"Wait. Moved here? From where?"
"I'm not sure exactly. Back East somewhere."
"All right."
"He moved because there was the river right here, and the forest."
"Yes. Though I'm surprised the forest is still left."
"Old Saekeresh was something of a witch, and, as I understand it, very concerned about preserving nature. He made sure new trees were planted as he cut the old ones down."
"I see. How noble of him."
He shrugged. "So he came here, and, well, made his preparations, then in the course of a week he had slaughtered Baron Neeyali and all of his people."
"All of them?"
"Nearly."
I said, "A few witches who were loyal to the old Baron escaped."
He nodded.
"Most of the survivors left," I said. "Why not the others?"
"Your family."
"Yes."
"I don't know exactly. I know old Saabo was—"
"Saabo?"
"That was what the family was called, then. I know he had a small piece of land that he wanted to keep. I think he looked at it as one, ah, one . . ."
"Bastard?"
Nodded. "...had replaced another, and so three of his sons went to work in the mill. The oldest agreed with him enough to change his name. I guess he was thinking to leave the past behind."
"So, the old Baron, as you call him, was no one especially deserving of loyalty?"
He spread his hands. "I've heard nothing about him to say he was better or worse than any others of his kind."
I nodded. "What of the other sons? Are there more Saabos in the area?"
"There is one family, yes."
"And I imagine they'd just as soon I stayed far away from them."
He looked down. "I don't think they are aware of you, Lord Merss. It has been several generations. They know they are related in some way to the family who was, that is, to those who were, ah—"
"Slaughtered," I said.
"Yes. Miki mentioned it to me. He said, 'Father, did you know we were related to the Merss family? A terrible thing, that was.'" He spread his hands. It seemed to be a favorite gesture. "They do not understand."
"And you didn't enlighten them, of course."
"No. They are simple people."
"Yes. Like Meehayi."
He nodded. I guess he wasn't good with irony.
"So then," I said, "it was less a war than, what was the word you used? A slaughter."
He cleared his throat. "You must understand, I have the journals of my predecessor, and his, and his, as my successor will have mine. I read them because I wished to understand how this town—"
"Speaking of, when was the name of the town changed? It has to have been after the mill opened."
"Yes. The son of old Saekeresh changed the name when he inherited the property. He inherited it, changed the name, and moved back East. That was a hard time for people here. There was no law, there was no—"
"The Guild," I said. "That's when the Guild began to run things, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Someone had to."
"Speaking of running things, what of the King?"
"Excuse me?"
"Back in the day of the great slaughter. The King did nothing?"
"No. I don't know why. I've heard it said that the King was weak then, and old, and concerned with his own troubles."
I nodded. There have been Emperors like that too, I've been told.
"And all of this talk about witches of the dark and the light, that's just—what?"
"Nonsense, really."
"Yeah, I knew that much. But where did it come from?"
"I'm not sure. There were some witches who were killed by old Saekeresh. I guess, in part, there had to be a story about it, and in part it just grew on its own."
I shook my head. "There's more to it than that," I said.
"You mean the Guild?"
"Yes."
"I don't think they invented it; I doubt they even deliberately encourage it."
"But?"
"It suits their purposes to have the foolish and ignorant believe such things."
His talk about the foolish and ignorant was beginning to annoy me. He was sounding like me, and only Loiosh gets to sound like me. No, it wasn't that—there was an air about him as if he and I were in some sort of elite club that was above the commoner. And he wasn't elite enough to be in my club.
"What purpose is that?"
"The Guild—the leaders of the Guild, I mean, Chayoor and his lieutenants—they like to keep things, I don't know, peaceful. They don't like to see conflict."
"What conflict in particular are they trying to avoid?"
"Well, with Count Saekeresh, of course."
"I'm missing something here," I said. "Why would there be conflict with Saekeresh?" He seemed a little uncomfortable with my referring to the Count without honorific. That pleased me and I resolved to do it more.
"The interests of the Guild and those of His Lordship don't always line up, you know. The Guild likes prices high, the Count likes them low. The Guild wants easy trade with the rest of the country; the Count wants things kept locally. It is in everyone's interest for the conflict to be contained. You see—" He paused a moment, looking for the right words, I guess. "We have a kind of balance here. There is the Guild and His Lordship, of course. And the mill workers and favagoti, and the peasants who work the land."
"Feeding the others."
"Exactly. And the others provide the peasants with a sort of income. But if one faction becomes restless, or discontent, it throws everything off, do you see?"
"Yes, I see. So, that's why the story?"
"What story?"
"The stuff about virgins and demons and—"
"That does happen, you know. There is evil—pure evil—in the world. And sick people, who may act evil."
"All right. But you didn't answer my question."
"I'm not—"
"Why make up all that nonsense?"
"It wasn't made up, exactly. And, to be sure, I didn't have any hand in it. I am a priest of Verra, not a storyteller. It's just that some parts of what happened have been emphasized over the years, deemphasizing others. The peasants themselves make up or add to the stories."
"And you do nothing to discourage them, or to set them straight."
He shrugged. "I suppose that's true."
"Why don't you?"
"You know peasants."
I remembered a Teckla I'd recently met and said, "Not as much as I'd thought. What about them?"
"You just don't want them knowing, understanding how things work. It doesn't make them any happier, you know."
"Um. Okay. Does that work? Making up wild yarns just to keep them confused?"
"For a while."
"And after that?"
"With any luck, it'll be after I'm gone."
"Um. So, why?"
"Mmm?"
"What do you get out of it?"
"It permits me to take care of my people, to see to their needs."
"Lying to them?"
"Sometimes, yes. If I didn't, I'd be gone, and there would be someone here who wouldn't care about them."
"All right."
"Do not presume to judge me, Merss Vladimir."
I let that go. It was pointless. Talking to him any more was pointless, for that matter; I had things to do that were more important, like eating watery broth. Although, as he was leaving, I couldn't resist asking if he had ever actually had contact with the Demon Goddess.
He hesitated, frowned, and said, "Not that I've ever been certain of."
"She's a bitch," I told him.
He hurried away and I thought over what I'd learned. Not about him—that wasn't worth considering. But about the background to this place, and how it fit into the things I knew and the things I still didn't. I realized that it had gotten late and told Loiosh he may as well give it up for the night. When he got back, I filled him in on my conversation with Father Noij. He had a few choice comments about the character of those who chose to serve my Demon Goddess. I could have pointed out that I was in no position to talk, but I agreed with him so I didn't.
"Does it give us anything, Boss?"
"Not instantly. Maybe after I've got the rest of the picture."