"They were already dead," he said quietly. "They died of the poppy-juice tincture, long before the flames reached them. They never felt an instant's pain; it was just like going to sleep."
Teigi sobbed louder. "It tasted nasty. I spat it out." She rubbed a grubby fist across her eyes. "She turned her back, and I spat it out."
"Good thing you did, or you would have died too."
"I should have!" Her sudden howl echoed off the walls. "I should have gone with them!"
The others looked up, startled.
"Whatever for?" Doshi asked. "What good would that have done?"
"Honor," Teigi hiccupped.
Arizun made a rude noise. "What sort of honor kills little children? Destroys whole families? Leaves the servants to run or be burned to death? Ha! Honor's a slaughterer, no different from the Armu barbarians—don't they do the same?"
Teigi only shook her head and cried.
"Now hush that silliness," Vari said, slathering on the burn ointment. "I'll tell you what your real honor is, child. You're the last of your family now, the last of Shibari's ancient and honorable blood. That's why the gods spared you, you understand?"
Gods nothing, Sulun grumbled to himself, I dragged you out of there—and only in hopes of keeping a patron. And, admit it, because I like the little girl. And because I wouldn't leave anyone to a death like that. Gods? Well, if the gods are no more than human greed and human pity, then I suppose Vari could be right.
Teigi was sobbing a little less, and listening closely.
"Now what you must do," Vari went on, artfully pouring out a spoonful of hemp-seed syrup from her supplies, "is hide your true name until, hmm, the omens are better. Then, when you're old enough to marry, you will refound the family of Shibari. You must live to have children of your own, do you see?"
Sulun raised an eyebrow at the elegance of that argument. Vari held out the spoon and neatly fed its contents to the girl.
Teigi swallowed, then protested, "Papa's creditors . . ."
"She has a nice grip on essentials," Yanados murmured.
"Don't worry, they won't find you." Vari put the spoon and bottle away. "We'll hide you among our own children. Hmmm, we'll have to give you a new name. . . ." She looked around for suggestions.
"Male or female?" asked Yanados. "If we're going to hide her from Shibari's creditors, best to disguise her sex as well."
"Good thought," Omis rumbled. "As a boy, she could pose as an apprentice. Hmm, but I don't suppose, child, you have the muscle to work as a blacksmith. . . ."
"Sulun." Teigi turned tear-wet and disconcertingly bright eyes to him. "I could be his apprentice."
"Wait a minute—" Sulun gulped.
"Of course she could." Vari clapped a firm hand to his shoulder, leaned close, and whispered fiercely in his ear. "Don't discourage her. The child needs some hope to live for, and my silly story won't support hope very long."
"Uh, yes—yes," Sulun stammered, feeling as if the floor were sliding out from under him. "I can always use another apprentice."
Yanados and Arizun smothered explosive snickers. Doshi only looked pained.
"It would look strange if a blacksmith's son were apprenticed to anyone but his father. Er, I'll say you're a cousin of mine." Sulun looked around wildly for inspiration. "What'll we call her—him? What's a good name?"
"Aziya," Teigi piped up. "I used to have a puppy named 'Ziya, but he ran away. . . ." The rest of her tale was smothered in a yawn.
"Hmm, Ziya it is then," Vari soothed. "Come lie down—Ziya."
"Now that we have that matter settled," said Arizun, handing the scant bread around, "what shall we do about making our living, now that our patron's gone?"
Instant silence fell.
Sulun heaved a sigh of fatigue and impatience. "Come, come. Someone must have some ideas. Suggestions?"
Omis shook his head. "Without my forge and anvil, I can't set up a free shop. I'll need to find some other blacksmith who needs a partner, if any such exist in the city."
"We're in much the same kettle," Yanados pointed out. "And I don't know of any natural philosophers who need partners."
"It is a rather specialized field of endeavor," Doshi said dourly.
"If we could get across the straits to Esha, we could set ourselves up a college of magicians," Arizun offered. "Outside the port city, it's a wonderfully backward place. We could dazzle the locals with our knowledge, perhaps even get a position in the king's court—"
"I thought you said you came from Mez," Yanados sneered. "The king of Esha is only a puppet of Sabis, and not a terribly wealthy one; he'd spend no money on luxuries such as us. Besides, with the little we've saved from the house, what do we have to impress a patron?"
"Besides that," Doshi added, "do we have enough money to buy passage for all of us across the straits? Or to feed us -afterward?"
For a moment everyone stopped and thought, for the first time that night, specifically about money. The adults promptly checked their belt purses. Arizun also peered into one of the bundles he'd salvaged from the house, and came up with a lame-looking smile.
"Among us all," Sulun concluded, "we have perhaps enough to feed us for a tenday. I think we must forget about crossing the straits."
"There's plenty of employment in the army," Yanados grinned, "Or among the pirates out to sea."
"I rather doubt they'd take a horde of children," Vari sniffed. "What would we do about the children?"
Sulun, who'd been briefly fancying himself as a pirate, came back to earth on that question. What about the children, indeed? For a moment he seriously considered sneaking out of the house before dawn, signing up in the army or going to the docks, leaving his apprentices and friends to manage for themselves. But without his cumbersome books and notes and tools and models, what could he do? He'd make a poor soldier, and a worse sailor, the sort that didn't survive for long. He'd do better begging in the streets of Sabis.
"There's no other way," he said with a sigh. "We simply have to find a new patron, and quickly. Any suggestions?"
There was a long moment's silence.
"Well," Vari finally offered, "Perhaps those very creditors who are hounding after us."
"What?" Omis squawked. "Those vultures picking the house bare already?"
"Think!" Vari insisted. "With the house burned, and the money and servants gone, how will the creditors regain their loans? They'll all come up short, and they'll all be greedy for more. Well now, we have skills to sell, don't we? That makes us objects of value that formerly belonged to Shibari, doesn't it?"
Everyone thought that over for a long moment. It was a grim suggestion, but nobody could find fault with it.
"It would have to be a rich creditor," Arizun said slowly, "One who could afford to take on all of us. Otherwise we'd be separated—and then, who knows when we'd get the Bombard Project done?"
Nobody could fault that either.
"How do we know who Shibari's wealthiest creditors were?" Doshi protested. "Only Shibari himself—and maybe his secretary knew. Shibari's dead, and the gods only know where the secretary is."
"Probably halfway across the straits by now." Arizun considered.
"How do we find out?" Yanados asked. "Perhaps the Hall of Records—"
"Any one of us who shows his nose there might be recognized and seized for Shibari's debts," Doshi warned. "Anyone seized would have to prove he wasn't one of the household slaves. How does a servant prove he's not a slave?"
Another long silence followed.
Omis shoved a set of tongs aimlessly back and forth, then smiled suddenly as inspiration came. "I know who could find out for us—walk right into the Hall of Records and ask to see anything, even bully the clerks around if they don't move fast enough."