what happens," he said, meaning that's just what I'd been doing.
"You're pretty funny," I said, meaning he wasn't.
He was right, though. Stumbling around to stir things up can be effective, up to a point. It can work; you might learn things that way. But sometimes when you do that people get killed, and sometimes it's the wrong people.
Loiosh nuzzled the side of my neck.
"Yeah, I know," I told him.
I got bread and cheese from Inchay and made myself eat some, and fed some to Loiosh and Rocza. The cheese was salty. I don't like salty cheese. I got some more summer ale to wash it down, which was probably why he sold salty cheese. Bastard.
"Tell me something," I said as I picked up the ale. "What sort of witchcraft do they practice around here?"
"Eh." He fixed me with a hard stare. "The clean, decent kind, so far as I know. But I don't practice myself. Ask someone who does."
"Who would that be?"
"Hmmm?"
"Who practices the Art? Point someone out."
"In here?"
"Sure."
There were four people in the place, all by themselves, drinking quietly. Two of them were watching us, the other two were drunk.
"I don't keep track," he said. "And if I did, I wouldn't tell a stranger. All right?"
I shrugged. "Then let me ask you something else."
His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "What?"
"Do you sell salty cheese on purpose, just to get people to buy more ale?"
After a second, he chuckled, then moved down to the other end of the bar. I went back to my table.
"Well, how about that. You try the direct approach, and it works. I'll have to remember that."
"What do you mean worked, Boss?"
"You weren't watching his eyes."
"He gestured at someone?"
"Not on purpose."
"Who?"
"Middle of the room, long gray coat, curly hair, looks like he's about to pass out."
"Should I follow him when he leaves?"
"Might be a tad obvious for me to follow him out, and then come back in shy one jhereg."
"Window to the roof, and I'll watch the door from there."
"Yeah, sounds good."
I took another swallow of the beer, set the mug down, and went up to my room. I opened the shutters, and Loiosh flew out the window and up. I settled back to wait.
About twenty minutes, that's what it took. He flew back in the window like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Got it, Boss. He was just down the street. I'd have been back sooner if he hadn't fallen on his face a couple of times on the way home."
"Hmm. So, by now, he's probably asleep."
"I thought it was called passed out."
"So if . . . yes. Okay, show me this place."
"You're the boss."
So, down the stairs, and then once more out into the dark and the stench. And if you're getting tired of hearing how much it stank, imagine how tired I was getting of walking through it. Phew.
Loiosh, who has better night vision than I do—which is to say, he has at least some night vision—flew just a bit in front of me, and guided me down the middle of another of the surprisingly wide roads of the town. I quickly had no idea which way we were going, or where we were in relation to the inn, but quite soon Loiosh said, "This is it."
"All right."
I listened and heard snores. I tried the door and found it unlocked; it didn't make too much noise when it opened, and then I was inside.
"One step forward, Boss. Another. Hold out your hand. Right. A little more. There. That's a candle."
There seemed to be a wall between me and the snoring. "Anyone in this room?"
"No."
It amazing how bright a single candle can be, and how much it hurts your eyes. There was a simple enchantment to adjust one's eyes to the dark or to the light; but of course I wasn't about to remove my amulet to cast it, so I waited.
The snores stopped, and a drunken voice went, "Huh, what?"
I strained, and there was whispering, followed by the drunk again: "Lemme sleep."
The whisper again, and this time I could make out words: "Lahchi, someone's in the house!"
I considered calling back, "No there isn't," but it didn't seem like that good an idea. I set the candle down.
My eyes had adjusted enough that I was able to position myself next to the door. I turned to the side and pulled up the collar of my cloak. I could hear him fumbling around in the room, and when the door opened I got enough of a glimpse of the bedroom to note the position of people and objects.
I reminded myself that with humans, the throat is more intimidating than the back of the neck; I'm not sure exactly why that is, but it's the sort of thing worth knowing.
This was going to have to be fast. The dagger I carried at my I belt had the heaviest pommel, so I picked that; as he walked by me, I gave him a sharp one to the back of the head; I had no idea if he'd lose consciousness, but in his present state it ought to be enough to complete his disorientation. Before he hit the floor I was next to the bed pressing the back of the dagger against the woman's throat. Cold steel against your throat in the dark is going to get your attention, and by using the dull side I could press hard without getting blood everywhere. I spoke in a normal tone of voice.
"Not a sound, not a motion, not a whisper, or you're both dead."
The moment when she might have screamed came and went. I heard him moaning a little.
"Got an eye on him, Loiosh?"
"Got it, Boss.”
I said, "I have no intention of killing, hurting, or even stealing from you. Don't do anything to change my mind. I have questions. You'll answer them, then I'll leave. Nod your head."
She nodded once. Her eyes were very wide.
"Your husband is a witch. Are you as well?"
Her eyes widened. I repeated the question.
She nodded again. Good, that saved some trouble.
"Are you a member of the Coven?"
Hesitation, then a nod.
"Who runs it?"
"I, we, I don't know."
"You don't know."
"The heads of the Coven, they appoint each other, secretly. They wear hoods at gatherings. When they invite you, they're all hooded and you never know who they are."
Well, okay; Noish-pa had mentioned that it worked that way sometimes. At least I had confirmed that there was a Coven; that was progress.
"I need to know about the two sorts of witchcraft in this town. You'll explain it to me."
From ambient light from the candle in the next room, I could see her just well enough to observe that she looked puzzled. I pulled the knife from her throat, but kept it in my hand. I said, "Take a moment to think. It is important to me to understand, and no one will answer my questions. You will answer my questions. Yes?"
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You don't need to understand, you just need to tell me what I want to know."
"Who are you?"
"The one with the knife. Someone said something about witches who follow the light, and those who follow the dark. What does that mean?"
I had a certain amount of sympathy for the woman. You wake up in the middle of the night, your husband is dead drunk and then he gets slugged by a stranger who's invaded your home, and the stranger wants to ask you esoteric questions about the nature of the arcane arts. It can't be easy to wrap your head around that well enough to give a coherent answer, no matter how much you want to, so when her mouth had opened and closed a few times, and I saw panic building in her eyes, I said, "All right, let me try something easier. Why did most of the Merss family leave town?"