"But think a bit further down the road. In a year's time, or two, or thereabouts, the next of my lot to have any argument with me would get to thinking, 'Wotheng waited for no sure proof of crime before he turned on Yotha's priests, so what will he do to us?' Soon enough they'd find reason to grieve for Yotha's lot, and more reason to fear me. One makes secret enemies that way, my boy, great numbers of 'em. That I can't afford. No, I need proof clear and bald for all folk to see before I send swords against Yotha—or anyone. Do y'see that?"
"I . . . see." Zeren chewed his lip a little. "However, if someone else were to make an end of Yotha's priesthood . . ."
"Then I'd have to sit in judgment on the case. Be careful, lad."
"Understood." Zeren sighed. "I'm a soldier, as you said, and no ruler. These games are a bit beyond me."
"Well, let me suggest—seeing as someone has, most definitely, tried to harm your folk—that you borrow a few of my guardsmen to watch your house and walls and workmen's camp for you. I'll hire them out cheap; all I ask is that you teach them some of the tricks you've learned in your soldiering. Like you the deal?"
"Yes." Zeren grinned. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, m'lord."
"Aye, that's what the wife says." Wotheng spurred his horse forward a few paces to hear the conversation going on in the front of the wagon.
Doshi was cursing bitterly over the whole visit. "Snake-tongued, wily monster, turning our own words back on us. Carelessness! Oh, bull's balls! He sat there and accused us of dangerous magic, that—that—"
"Clever old bastard," Sulun supplied. "At least he won't be setting fires so freely again."
"But what else will he do? He has so damned much power! You know that Bassip was his hireling, and could still run around poisoning people. Do we have to watch every drop of water, every crumb of food, for the rest of our lives? What if—"
"I doubt Bassip the Wagoner will do any more poisoning," said Sulun. "To keep protesting his innocence, Folweel will have to punish the man—and none too lightly. In fact . . . seeing that Bassip's clearly guilty, no longer useful, and has some damaging tales to tell about who hired him, I suspect that the poisoner hasn't many days left to live."
"Oh." Doshi thought that over, and was silent.
"I see you understand me," Wotheng put in, startling them both. "So we're all rid of a poisoner, and Folweel won't be so free with his fires hereafter, and I rather think that this fellow Twoz won't be showing his nose in Ashkell again."
"I understand, Lord Wotheng, and I thank you," Sulun concurred. "I only worry about Folweel's next move against us."
"He might have the sense to make none." Wotheng sighed. "Well, if not, then I suspect he'll not move soon or anywhere near so boldly. I'm lending you some of my guards until next harvest comes in. No, don't thank me yet; you'll have only that long to outguess the next move from Yotha House. I trust your own house will be secure by then."
"As much as we can make it, m'lord."
"Yotha will have his own harvest to get in," Eloti recalled. "And if his donations have fallen slack of late, his priests will have to concern themselves heavily with their farming if they want to be warm and well fed this winter."
"Let's hope so," Sulun muttered.
"And if they have time left over for mischief," Wotheng added, "let's hope 'tis not much."
"Perhaps they'll have other concerns as well." Eloti smiled wickedly. "In case of any complaint, Lord Wotheng, remember that one of Yotha's admitted household did do a bit of ill-wishing on a bit of our property first."
"Oho?" Wotheng raised a shaggy eyebrow. "And could anyone do a little bit of ill-wishing right back? Even through Yotha House's famous magical defenses?"
"Certainly. One might cast a small curse upon a small part of Yotha House from the inside—especially while the high priest was too busy in a duel of wits to notice." Eloti smiled, smiled, like a cat with a whole bowl of cream.
"What sort of 'small' curse?" Wotheng asked quietly.
"Harmless but nagging irritations: scrolls that roll off desks and hide under heavy cabinets, inkpots that overturn, quill points that break, errors that tend to creep into the household accounts—that sort of thing."
Wotheng snorted, then whuffled, then laughed until he rocked in the saddle. "Small annoyances! Little irritations!" he whooped. "Oh, I have to tell the wife that one! A small curse . . . Aye, Vona, the slippery wizard deserves it."
Sulun chewed that over a while, giving Eloti a long look. "Falling inkpots," he murmured. "I remember that. So it was you, behind the wall of Entori's study?"
"Oh yes." Eloti smiled distantly into the wind. "My brother was a fool in so many ways. I had to keep track of his doings, or the house would have been ruined long ago."
"Lady Eloti, I'm most grateful you chose to come with us!"
"I'm grateful you gave me the opportunity."
Getting over the wall was the easy part. Yotha House stood amid an overgrown former orchard which hid both the approach and part of the side walls. There were fallen tree limbs aplenty, and the stone itself was weathered full of finger- and toeholds, and Arizun had his rope and grapnel in case those failed. Clearly the wizard-priests of Yotha never considered that any thief would dare try to climb into the god's house, or else they actually wanted hidden entrances for themselves.
Ziya and Arizun lay on top of the weathered wall, studied the hated house, and planned strategy.
"We could set it on fire," said Ziya. "Serve 'em right."
Arizun winced. "Not that easy," he argued. "Besides, they play with fire themselves. Don't you think they'd have precautions against it turning on them?"
"It'd be so right." Ziya hated to let the idea go.
"Maybe we could poison them right back," Arizun offered, looking half-heartedly about for the house's water supply. He cast a glance back into the orchard, where their horse was safely tied and presumably too busy eating to make any noise.
"We didn't bring any poison with us," Ziya grumbled. "We should've thought of that."
"I don't think Deese House has got any, and there wasn't time to look; not if we wanted to sneak out quick." Arizun's eye fell on something odd, something wrong-shaped, hanging in one of the trees. He looked more carefully, recognized it, and smiled to his ears. "Heyyy, I've got a better idea. Have we got a big bag?"
"The sack we brought lunch in." Ziya squirmed around to see what Arizun was looking at. "What is it?"
"Look there, that tree where I'm pointing, about halfway up. You see that thing?"
Ziya did. Her eye grew big and round, and she smothered a whoop of laughter. "Oooh, how'll we get it?"
"Some smoke, and then the bag." Arizun squirmed back down off the wall. "Come on. This'll take time and we've got to hurry."
Ziya wriggled after him, and they ran back through the old orchard stifling giggles.
Arizun proved to be right; it took a good half-hour's careful work to build a smoky fire of just the right size, keep it from being seen while they steered the smoke upward, and then shinny up the tree with the hastily emptied bag. Arizun did most of the latter work while Ziya kept lookout, and none of it was easy. Still, he came down grinning, mussed but unscathed, holding the reloaded bag at arm's length with the neck tied tight.
"Ick! Keep it away from me!" Ziya wrinkled her nose as she scattered and killed the fire.