"You think she can stir Duran's neighbors up to a point where they'll act? And keep it going? Responsibly?"
"Aye. They're already riled up. Considerably. It won't take much to convince them they'd be better off without Duran around."
Ladirno slowly shook his head, a look of sadness in his eyes. "I was hoping I'd never see such a day," he said, his voice weary. "Duran's always been . . . a little strange. Every one of his colleagues has noticed this. Some of us have even spoken to him about it."
"Hladyr will bless your intent."
"We so hoped he would listen to us, to the Duke, to the Duke's advisors. What we didn't count on was the man's flare for words, and the Duke's leniency." Ladirno smiled crookedly. "But then it's that bond between Ancar. Perhaps that's why Duran wasn't punished as he should have been."
"Perhaps. I pray so."
"If it has to be, it has to be. Duran can't go on working against—honest folk. That's for sure."
"Then you think what I'm planning is right? That it can work?"
"Aye. You have all the arguments on your side, Father. After all, you're the priest . . . you're the one to counsel these people—to counsel all of us. And I think it can work, if you're very careful. My advice still stands: use this seamstress. Only agitate Duran's neighbors as well—be sure to involve as many of his true friends as you can gain—that way there'll be no question of sincere purpose in this—"
A warm feeling filled Vadami's heart. He was finally taking some action. He was given a chance to save an entire section of town from practitioners of the dark arts, a chance to redeem Old Town from heresies and to preserve the Scriptures against attack—surely Hladyr had to bless that—in many ways.
That was why the god had left him in this dismal post—for Hladyr's greater glory, for his ultimate good.
"Hladyr bless, Sor Ladirno," Vadami said, signing him. "And prosper you and yours. Hladyr has used you to advise me—though you're Duran's friend—and friendship is nothing to be scoffed at—you know what is right and just; and Hladyr will reward you."
"In my own humble way, I try," Ladirno replied.
Now that he had an active plan at hand, one that the alchemist agreed was viable, Vadami could hardly sit still. He gathered up his cloak, slipped it over his shoulders, and stood.
"A thousand thanks, Sor Ladirno," he said, bowing slightly. "You'll be in my prayers. I'll always remember your advice, your patience, and your intelligent suggestions."
Ladirno looked up, his face very serious. "Father, I'm sure you're doing what's right. You're being far more gentle in your solution than any other law might be. Only be careful. Guard yourself."
Full shelves—and hundreds of empty clay pots—kept the shop looking normal. Duran stood, hands on hips, and surveyed what was left downstairs, what he could not take with him. He had delivered nearly all of his drugs, herbs, and medicines to the alley window, only leaving behind enough to do the absolutely necessary routine business from his shop.
But few customers had stopped by. With the continuing rain and wind, his lack of business was not surprising. And since Tutadar had told the neighbors the Sabirn boy was going to be gone for a few days, it should seem natural that deliveries and solicitations should stop, and that the shop would settle to a quieter routine.
One hoped—that that was the perception on the street, at least.
But, thank the gods, the last of his belongings would be smuggled out tonight, storm or no storm. When he had gone to the "Cat" for his midday meal, the looks he had received from his neighbors were not—neighborly.
That was certainly part of the strange sense of urgency that filled his mind. And part of it, he was sure, was a desire to be done with this: now that he had decided to leave Targheiden, he wanted nothing more than to do it quickly—like any parting: the longer it drew on, the more painful it began to be; and the more a man tried to settle his mind—the more the old place began to seem irrelevant and strangely disturbing to him.
Dog, too, seemed keenly aware something strange was in the wind. As Duran's books, papers, medicines, and alchemist's tools had disappeared into the baskets, Dog had walked from place to place, sniffing the emptiness left behind. More than once he had turned his head, looked at Duran in canine puzzlement, and whined softly.
He was taking Dog with him—damned sure. Dog was going to be of great comfort on the road and—wherever else . . . the only living contact Duran would have of what his neighborhood had once been like. But he could not tell Dog that; and perhaps Dog—having experienced loneliness before—could not trust in things.
Duran sighed, scanned the shelves again for forgotten details, things overlooked, things that he might still regret. There was nothing. The shelves with their false, empty containers, stood as a reminder to him of how empty his life had become.
The past was dead, the present was dying.
Only the future seemed of import.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Can you believe it?" Wellhyrn fairly shouted, pacing Ladirno's rug, "That damned man has got to have more than one wizard backing him! There's no other way to explain it!"
Ladirno leaned back in his chair, watching Wellhyrn sputter. His young colleague had burst in not long after he had gotten home, his handsome face red with rage and his hands clenched as if he were prepared to strike out at anyone who got in his way.
"Calm, calm," Ladirno said. "Be patient."
"Patient!" Wellhyrn cried, facing him. "We're near the end of our resources. Two, two wizards, who don't come cheap! And from what Mandani's spy tells him—nothing's working!"
"He has his eye on Duran, then."
"Evidently he's been to that inn for his midday meal. The spy says that it was the same as yesterday. Duran seemed quiet, but not moody—showing no signs of bespelling, nothing in the world wrong! What in Dandro's hells are we going to do? We can't afford to put another wizard on him!"
"We may not have to do anything at all," Ladirno said, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. "I think the little priest might have solved our problems."
"Vadami?" Wellhyrn was incredulous. "That priest?"
"Aye. I just happened into the 'Shoe.' Ran into Vadami. He's utterly convinced Duran's damned, that he's lost his soul to darkness by dealing with the Sabirn."
"So? We tried that argument in court, and it didn't get us anywhere."
"This isn't the Duke we're dealing with, Hyrn. This is a young, ambitious priest, who's very pious, and very interested in doing something that will draw that piety to the attention of his superiors."
"What has that to do with our situation?"
"He still thinks I'm Duran's friend," Ladirno said, "and I'm not going to dissuade him of that fantasy. He told me today that he's reached the end of his patience, that Duran's beginning to corrupt the minds of Old Town." Ladirno leaned closer and lowered his voice. "He plans to run Duran out of town."
Few things ever caught Wellhyrn at a loss for words, but this did. Ladirno found satisfaction at his colleague's stunned expression.
"He's what?"
"Planning on running Duran out of town," Ladirno repeated.
"Are you certain?"