a disaster in the making. The business of the paidika was becoming the performances of Diverus.
Thinking quickly, Bogrevil shouted up the steps, “It’s a condition of this establishment that if the boy can play your instrument, it remains with the establishment.” The line of turbaned, masked, cloaked men and women roared with indignation, but Bogrevil waved them silent. “Look here, nobody’s making you come down here like this—you have two choices. You either rent his time privately, in which case you can use him as you like, or you accept the challenge that he’ll play anything you hand him. The boy don’t come cheap, but that’s how it is. He’s blessed, and you pay for that.”
The line broke up. Only a few remained to accept the rules and challenge the boy with their obscure instruments. They all went home empty-handed, but in most cases not until Bogrevil had packed them off to one of the rooms in back. Even losing, they were transported by the music.
Disaster was averted, and money flowed copiously. Bogrevil thought that if he could sustain this level of income for even a few months, he would retire from the brothel with enough wealth to flee to some large isle—oh, there were some big enough, he’d heard it from travelers, five or six spans on—where he would live far away from the demons, the ocean, and the children for the rest of his life.
The pile of instruments surrounding Diverus grew steadily, a testament to his magical skill. He would pick up the simplest ocarina and then a small harp, without hesitating, without thinking, and play. Bogrevil luxuriated in the attention as if it were all about him.
Then one evening, moments after they had opened their doors for business, Mother Kestrel arrived. She had with her three youths, and they shoved aside the boy on the door and went down the stairs together in a cluster, a four-headed dreadnought. Above them the boy at the door stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled a signal to Kotul at the bottom. The group made it halfway down before he stepped into view like a barbican gate dropped in their path. Her boys drew up and eyed her nervously. One complained, “You didn’t tell us about him.”
“I couldn’t, now, could I, being as how I’ve never been down this far.”
Bogrevil, sent for the moment the alarm was sounded, appeared beside his behemoth. “Ah, Mother K, lovely to see you as always,” he said. “Of course, you’re not really supposed to be here during business hours, are you? I mean, there is a prohibitive policy regarding undisguised female clients. ’Course, maybe you’d be unaware of that, bein’ as how you’re no client.”
She slipped down a few more steps while her escort hung back. “I’m not makin’ a delivery this time.”
“Well, there’s a pity, because they look strapping strong, your youngsters. I can always use boys with good constitutions. They last so much longer.”
“I’m here to talk about the idiot.”
Bogrevil glanced around as if to identify the subject. “I’m afraid,” he said at last, “I’ve got no idiot here at this time. My boys are rather more than that.” A tune played on a lute floated up the stairwell, crisp as a chilled wine.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she said. “The stories come to me that our lad finally showed his gifts, what he got on the dragon beam.”
“Our lad? I wasn’t aware we’d ever coupled, you and I.”
One of the boys sniggered. Mother Kestrel came closer. “You know who I mean,” she accused. “Word is, you’re taking in a lot of coin on account of his gifts.”
“Well, some, certainly. But you know, we struck a bargain, you and I, when I took him in—that all his gifts and the proceeds from those gifts were to be mine alone—”
“I spoke in haste.”
“No doubt you did. You were aggrieved to have looked after him and took my recompense for your trouble. I recall that you were paid agreeably and that you discarded him with a great expression of relief.”
She stood a moment longer. “So you won’t cut me a share in him now that he’s valuable.”
“No,” he replied. “I don’t think I will. We concluded our bargain where he is concerned. Now, should you care to fob off another one so blessed by the gods, I’m sure I could be persuaded to pay less up front in exchange for what might manifest through divine intervention later on. It is a risk, isn’t