Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,27

seemed determined to cleanse the earth of swine by devouring the beasts faster than they could breed.

“Vali. Now that you’ve learned to talk, why don’t you tell me all about Vali Dumaine? What’s the big mystery? What’s the big secret?”

The girl’s lips twitched and twisted. Habit died hard. But she had known this would come. “I made it up. All of it. I heard some Arnhander crusaders at the Ten Galleons talking to the Witchfinders. We didn’t know they were Witchfinders then.”

“Continue, please.” She seemed to think that she had explained.

“The crusaders had been told to go to the Holy Lands by the Arnhander king. The old one. The one that died. Anne of Menand got him to make them go. They belonged to a count she wanted revenge on. His wife was named Vali Dumaine. I liked its sound. So I made up the story that Lila told you that night in Sonsa.”

Hecht looked at Lila, who stared at the floor. “You believed Vali?”

“Not really. But I wanted to. So I pretended. I didn’t want her to do what I had to.”

Hecht guessed Lila to be fourteen. Even back then, she would have been an experienced prostitute, her virginity auctioned nightly by her mother.

“God will reward you, Lila. I’m sure of that. So. Vali. Who are you, really? The daughter of Bit’s relative from Artecipea? She told one story that ran that way. Another made it sound like you had been sold to the house.”

Lila said, “Mother never told the whole truth. She couldn’t. Not even to herself.”

Hecht thought a woman would have to be skilled at lying to herself to survive in such a hard trade.

“I don’t remember any more, Father. I was too young when I came to the Ten Galleons.”

Hecht did not pursue the matter. It was not crucial. Let the child be what she wanted. Anna would set her on the path of righteousness.

Hecht had another sausage. Vali watched, obviously anxious. He winked. She jumped. “Lila. How are you doing?”

The older girl was surprised to be asked. “Good. Considering. This is an interlude I’ll enjoy as much as I can.”

Hecht’s turn to be surprised. Not because Lila was insecure but because she had assumed a fatalistic outlook so early. Her life must have been harsh indeed. “You have a place here. As long as you like. You’re family, now.” Which could end with one slight political crosswind.

Hecht said, “Everyone listen. Life is unpredictable. Mine maybe more than most. Other people don’t have giant worms come out of the ground after them. If anything happens to me, ever, all of you get to Principaté Delari’s house the minute you hear about it.”

“Why?”

“Anna?”

“Why would we be safer there than here?”

“Because Muniero Delari is who he is.” And because Cloven Februaren made his home there, as well. The Ninth Unknown might be the most powerful sorcerer in the west, if not the world. Though he hid it well.

“I understand that. What eludes me is the Principaté’s motives for caring about me or the children.”

“Ah, I can’t really explain that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Fifty-fifty. I know some things. I suspect some things. And I know there’s more that I don’t know. One thing I do know is, the umbrella of the Principaté’s protection casts its shade on this family. Accept it. Enjoy it, the way you will the weather we’ll have today.”

Pella rose. He had not spoken for some time. Not even minimal table courtesies. “We can’t enjoy the weather. We aren’t allowed. Some people aren’t afraid of Principaté Delari.” He left the kitchen. A moment later Hecht heard the front door open. Pella would be staring out into the fine morning and, no doubt, would be incensed because he could not go run the streets.

Hecht murmured, “All life is compromise and trade-off. He can’t run the streets but he isn’t starving.” And he had learned to read. And he had begun to learn a trade.

“Trade-offs,” Anna agreed.

Hecht wondered how she meant that.

* * *

“Dad,” Pella called. “There’s soldiers coming. Patriarchal Guards.”

Anna said, “And there goes the one day we thought we had.”

Pella made a startled squeal. Hecht rushed to the front, armed with a kitchen knife.

Heris stood six feet from Pella, who was framed in the doorway. The boy was pale. The woman had her hands spread to indicate that she was not dangerous.

“She came out of nowhere, Dad! I was watching the guards. When I turned around, there she was. And I was in the doorway the whole time.”

Heris