"A bunny in the lions' lair! Never!"
"What about to bed? Are you ever going to take me to bed?"
He repeated his previous utterance.
No, Strick was told, Avenestra was not in the Golden Lizard. No, she had not drunk anything and she had not stayed the second night. But she had been in four times, asking after him. She had bidden the proprietor mention... Uncle Ahdio?
Strick smiled, paid for two more days/nights and made his thoughtful way back to the Golden 0. There he was confronted by a certain caravan guard. Solemnly Fulcris turned up the sword-arm sleeve of his tunic.
"The wound is fine," he said. "And by the very beard of Yaguixana, I'd wager there will be no scar, either!"
"Told you, Fulcris. I know a good wound when I see one. What are your plans for "
"It's not going to be that easy, my friend. What did you do? What have you done?"
"In addition to which," a new voice asked, "what are you, Strick?"
Strick looked at him, eyes large. "Hello, Ahdio."
"You might as well call me Uncle Ahdio. Avenestra does. And now I have a non drinker cluttering up my place!"
Strick didn't laugh. "You know what I am, Ahdio. Just understand this: It is what Sanctuary needs most. It's all white."
"All, Strick? Always?"
Strick met his eyes and put force into his gaze. "All, Ahdio, always. It's a vow-and don't question me that way again."
Ahdio returned the gaze, his head moving almost imperceptibly in the mere hint of a nod. "I believe you. I even apologize."
Strick smiled and squeezed his arm, while their exchanged look lengthened.
"Do... do I dare ask?" Fulcris asked nervously.
"Fulcris my friend, I will tell you. Not just now. I repeat, though: what are you going to do? Stay? Go? Find work here, or on the next caravan out?"
"I will tell you," Fulcris said with dignity, "but not just now." And he turned and walked away.
"That's interesting," Ahdio said. When Strick said nothing but only gave him a questioning look, he said, "He's the fifth man. The one I told Cusharlain I couldn't be sure about because he isn't a Sanctuarite and I don't know enough about him."
Strick smiled and looked at the door that had closed on Fulcris. "I do," he said, so quietly. "Proud fellow, isn't he!"
"Um. That's three of us. Strick-you said 'you know' when I asked what you are..."
Strick looked at him again, into the other big man's eyes. "Aye. Three spells in your place, none dark-though I can't be sure about the cat I've never seen. I doubted coincidence."
"You can ... see spells?!"
Strick nodded. "Usually. Often, anyhow. Not always. It's an ability."
"God-it's a talent! A marvelous talent!"
"No, Ahdio. An ability. I paid. I paid for all of it."
Ahdio met the gaze of those large blue eyes for quite some time before he said, "I won't ask, Strick."
"Good. I won't either. Tell Avenestra she has a room at the Lizard tonight and tomorrow night."
"I'll tell her. And I won't ask, Strick."
The man named Frax arrived clean and military-looking for his interview. He had been a palace guard. Then the Bey sins came. Now Beysibs guarded the palace. Frax had yet to find employment. Strick sat thinking about that for a while, chewing the inside of his lip. Suddenly he stared past Frax, his eyes going wide. He had not finished his "Look out!" when Frax had spun to face the door, crouching, poised. Each fist had grown a dagger. He saw nothing; no one and no menace.
"You're hired," Strick said, and Frax turned to find him still seated comfortably. "A partition will divide the room downstairs: an entry hall and your room. Your bed will be in it, and your belongings. You'll consider yourself on duty at all times, starting on the morrow. What payment did you receive, as palace guardsman?"
Still in partial shock, Frax told him.
"Hmp! The Prince is no less important than I am-yet. Same wage, Frax."
"You-that was a trick! You tested-"
Frax blinked down at the swordpoint at his chest. His new employer had stood and drawn and set it there as fast and smoothly as any man Frax had ever seen.
"You had to be almost as good as I am, Frax," he said in that equable way, eyes large and serene. "I won't be wearing a sword." And Strick swung the sword up and back, touched his shoulder with it, and sheathed without glancing down. "Do you know anything about a sort of over-age street urchin named Wintsenay?"
"Not much, Swordmaster. He's a-"
"You definitely are not to call me that, Frax! We'll-" He paused, listening, and smiled. "I have a guest, Frax. If I'm lucky, two guests. In the morning, Frax?"
Frax was nodding, working at finding a respectful title for his astonishing employer, when Esaria bubbled into the room.
"I eluded my 'escort' for once! Hurry, Strick," she said, and, triumphantly: "Mothahhh awaits your pleasure in the Golden O!"
Strick smiled. "Good. My guardian Frax will accompany you." He unbuckled his weapons belt and passed it to the other man. "Hand me one of your daggers, Frax; there's a good one in that sheath. Frax will escort you. Noble Shafra-laina, and will escort your mother back. This is my place of business."
"I will do anything for you. Lord Strick!"
"Do not call me lord and do not be silly, Avenestra. Your infatuation with Ahdio is ended and so is your nightly drunk-enness, that's all. You are right back where you were. An orphan of fifteen who hangs about a low tavern every night and survives by selling her body-for what little poor men can afford to pay! It's a rotten life and will only rot you. Besides, there is the trade, or reverse effect. The Price. What effect is your new craving for sweets going to have on the body you peddle?"
Avenestra looked at the floor and began leaking tears. "What-what else can I d do-o?"
"What would you like to do? Think, girl! For once, think!"
"B-b-be you-you-ourss!"
Strick slapped the desk cover, a huge piece of deep blue velvet trailing gold tassels on her side. "My dotter, you mean."
"Daughter? Uh-"
"Look at me and consider my age and forget the other, Avneh!"
She did look at him, from unkohled eyes all soft and misted with tears that traced glistening tracks down her gaunt cheeks. She bit her lip. She nodded.
"What-what does your daught-your dotter do?"
"Strangely enough, she is called niece rather than dotter, calls me Uncle Strick, and lives in the room across the corridor. I am helping to relocate the present tenant. My niece learns decent behavior and decent things to do, wears decent clothing, and will I hope become aide and receptionist."
"I-I-I don't even know what that means..."
"In the meanwhile, she markets for me and cooks for me."
"Oh, oh M-Mother Shipri-yes, yes, I will cook for you!"
Strick smiled. "My niece also stops watering this nice carpet with so many tears."
She smiled. "Oh my lor-Uncle Strick! How did you come by your ability?"
"The power of the Ring of Foogalooganooga, far west of Firaqa, Avenestra. Wints!"
The door opened and a thin man appeared. He was freshly barbered and shaven, wearing a nice new tunic of Croyite blue. "Sir?"
"Take my niece around to a few places and introduce her, Wints. You and she will be buying some food. At Kalen's, tell him she is to have a tunic from the same bolt as yours. White broidery at the neck and-umm. Length just above the knees. Avneh: it is not to be tight!"