Black Rose

(This episode is short on action, and long on talk.

But talk can make a difference.

So far, this saga has been, mostly, a fairly tight tale about personal injury and resentments, and people being mostly bastards to one another, and occasionally kind.

But it's not really about that.

It's time to open things up a bit.)

***

CRV Baccara: ek

CRV Baccara: eac eac eac baccara

CRV Baccara: eac eac eac baccara

CRV Baccara: eac eac eac baccara

CRV Baccara: eac eac eac baccara

CRV Perennial Blue: baccara state your condition

CRV Baccara: eac eac eac baccara

CRV Baccara: perennial blue yf yf yf

***

Chapter 7

Sperno

Memika

Present day

Inside the door of the woman's house was a stair, which went up the middle of the house, lit by an overhead skylight of many small panels of thick glass. On each landing were doors, with a name carved into each one.

Oh, right, Five thought. A house full of houses.

The woman's door had about four locks, all of which she had to unlock before letting them in.

'Please excuse the mess,' she said, holding the door open.

The room was littered with books and other things. Metal tubes with glass in the ends. Jars containing dead animals submerged in liquid. Odd clumps of blackened matter, musical instruments, unidentifiable tools cut to more precise points than Five had thought possible, magnifying glasses. The woman kicked some scattered bits of unidentifiable rubbish out of the way, and Freya and Five entered.

The woman pointed to a row of hooks on the wall, and they hung up their cloaks. A short black scabbard hung on the wall by the coathooks, bearing the name of the house its owner had belonged to:P.I.C.But it had a flap over the top, as if it were a knife with no blade. Five wondered what manner of weapon were inside.

The woman turned and sniffed, and looked at Five with disfavour.

'You're filthy,' she said.

'Somebody threw wash-water over me. I'll live.'

'Well, you're not making my chairs smell. Give me your clothes and I'll wash them.'

She clicked her fingers and held a hand out.

'I'm not taking my clothes off,' Five said.

'Then you can stand on the landing while I talk to your herdswoman,' the woman said.

Five looked to Freya for support, but Freya shook her head impatiently.

Great. Just great.

'You can undress in my room,' said the woman, indicating a door, 'and wash yourself too. I'll bring hot water.'

She went over to the fireplace, which was weakly glowing, and tossed some kindling on before adding a few more pieces of wood. There was already a pot of gently steaming water hanging over it.

Five trudged over to the door to the woman's room and went in.

Inside, it was a cosy little chamber with a single bed, a crock of water and a wardrobe. Five was glad to see that there was no mirror. Mirrors made more Fives. The world didn't need more Fives.

After a moment, the woman put her head around the door and held out a towel.

'Drop your wet clothes outside the door,' she said, 'and wrap yourself in this.'

She vanished again. Five undressed and bundled up the wet, smelly clothes, then dropped them outside the door. A hand touched his, and a handle of a jug was thrust into it.

Five pulled the jug of hot water into the room, padded over to the crock and set about washing.

*

The woman picked up the bundle of clothes and took them over to a pot on the floor, and dropped them in. Freya watched as she sliced a piece of soap off a bar and dropped it in with them, then stirred the result with a wooden paddle.

Then, she set out tea cups and a pot, and filled the kettle from a jug, and put the kettle on the fire to boil.

Finally, she turned to Freya and indicated a chair, and sat in the one opposite.

Freya sat down.

'I didn't recognise you in your cloaks,' the woman said. 'Yes, Freya Aelfrethe, I know you've seen me at the library, and I know you've been asking after me. I didn't want to make it easy for you. And then you put your damn cloaks on, and in this rain, I took you for a couple of layabouts. I don't see too well at the best of times.'

She shrugged.

'Anyway,' she said tersely. 'It was easy, in the end.'

Freya looked at her.

You wanted us to find you? Why?

'I need the library,' she said. The woman shook her head.

'Trust me, you don't. In any case, you won't get in. I can get in because I can get past them. I've been going to the library for years.'

'But,' Freya said, and coughed, 'the law.'

'War has a way of turning things upside-down,' the woman said. 'When the men of Memika were off fighting, someone had to teach the children. It fell to the women. The library was open to everyone. But now that we have peace, the gentlemen who run things around here want the women to put down their books, and go back into the kitchen. And so the library is closed once more.'

'Where we come from,' Five said, from the door to the woman's room, 'there'd be a bit of fuss about that.'

Five was looking cleaner, and had wrapped himself in a towel from under his armpits, covering his entire torso. Freya was bemused. The woman smiled.

'And that's why the army of Hargest is feared and respected,' the woman said, then paused, and, looking Five in the eye, she added, 'Five of Snorri Midlafsson.'

'How do you know who I am,' Five said.

'If you don't want people to know who you are,' the woman said, 'you should cover up your tattoos.'

'You can read them?'

'Well, yes.'

'How come?'

'I like knowing things.'

The woman paused, then seemed to think better of saying whatever it was she had been about to say. She closed her mouth and turned to Freya.

'Would you care for some lunch?' the woman said. 'I happen to have made some soup, and there's far too much of it for me.'

Five looked at Freya. Freya shook her head.

'Pity,' the woman said. 'If there's one thing I hate to see, it's things wasted.'

'What do they call you?' Five said.

'Good question,' the woman said. 'My namewasMoyra McCartach. They call me Moyra Sperno.'

Freya and Five knew enough of clerkstongue to understand the nickname: The Rejected, the Exile.

'What'd you do?' said Five.

'Put it this way, Snorri's Five,' she said, 'do you find me annoying?'

'As a matter of fact,' Five said, 'yes.'

'Well,' Moyra said, 'you're not the first.'

The kettle was singing. She got up and went over to it, and poured tea, then brought the tea over to where they sat by the fire. She then went back to the fire, took the kettle off the hook and hung a saucepan in its place. She waved Five over to a smaller chair next to Freya's.

*

Five walked over, feeling exposed in just a towel, although it was a big towel and an old one, and clearly a family heirloom. Freya was staring at Five, clearly fighting back amusement that Five hadn't wrapped the towel around his waist like a normal person.

Well, I don't show meself off to just anyone, Five thought.

Moyra was leaning over her saucepan and stirring the contents.

'In all honesty,' she said, 'you don't need to have the soup. It's a little... undisciplined.'

The soup smelled good and Five was hungry, but couldn't help recalling a gobbet of army wisdom that Erik had seen fit to toss his way.

Always carry spare britches, young one. Always fold on a nine or lower. And never accept soup from anyone that don't make it for a living.

'I'm all right, thanks,' Five said, glancing at Freya, who was looking around the room as if there were something wrong with it.

'You're wise, in your early youth,' Moyra said, glancing at him. 'I'm going to have some, but I won't be offended if you don't.'

The soup smelled warm and rich, but also spicy and herbal. Moyra ladled some into a bowl and then came over and joined them. She sat on the other chair and began to eat.

Five looked at the hunks of pale meat lurking in the dark red liquid.

'What's it made of?' Five said.

'This and that,' Moyra said. 'Chiefly pig. I think.'

'You don't know?'

'I can't be certain. I bought the meat at the docks.'

'Is that where the market is?'

'No,' Moyra said, 'but it's where the barbars are.'

'You bought meat from abarbar?' Five said, aghast. 'You know they eat their own kind?'

'That's what they say,' Moyra said. She dipped the spoon into the soup and let it half fill with broth, then she tasted it and nodded with approval.

'You could be eating manflesh!' Five said.

'I could,' Moyra agreed, and she got up, went over to the fire, took a dark bottle from a shelf, returned to her soup, shook a few drops into it, and the sharp tang of vinegar rose up. She tasted it again and nodded more firmly.

'Tastes like pig, though,' she said.

'Hm,' Five said, relieved. 'What's manflesh taste like?'

'I wouldn't know. I've never had it.'

'Oh,' said Five.

'However,' Moyra said, 'they do say that it tastes like pig.'

Definitely not hungry now, Five thought.

After a moment, Moyra looked up at Freya.

'There are some things I know,' she said, 'which I wish were not the case. How do you do, Freya Aelfrethe.'

It wasn't a polite hello. It was a request for information, and an expression of sympathy.

Five looked at Freya, and saw her looking at the woman with a complicated look on her face; distrust mingled with agitation.

'You don't know me,' said the woman quietly, 'and you don't trust me, and I don't blame you. I wouldn't, in your place. But I think I know what happened in the mountains. I think the hostel was a good place to stay, for the moment.'

'Wait a minute,' Five said, 'what the hell's this? How d'you know we went there?'

'I have means of knowing,' the woman said, slowly. 'I can see far distances, beyond the eye of man. I can hear talk in distant rooms. I can interpret the tongues of bird and beast. I have Knowledge.'

She paused and looked at them steadily.

'Really?' Five said.

'No, not really,' said the woman with a disarming smile. 'I saw you arrive, and I followed you. But even if I'd only guessed, you've now confirmed it for me.'

Five silently cursed himself for being thick.

'If you were hoping to find information in the library,' Moyra said to Freya, 'it's as well you couldn't get in. They have nothing to tell you.

'You,' she said, turning to Five. 'You're the real enigma. Why did they leave you there? Who did they expect to cook their meals?'

'How do you know...' Five said.

'Cuts and burns on your hands,' Moyra said, 'and when you gave me your clothes, they were stiff with grease. Not exactly a conundrum. Also, cooks are usually fatter, but I see walking has been good for you there.'

Five opened his mouth again.

'The condition of your boots,' Moyra said. 'You must have walked here from Casman. But never mind that.'

She looked at them both.

'If you're here,' she said to Freya, 'it's because of you,' she finished, looking at Five. 'But why you were left there, that I do not know.'

'There is one other mystery,' Five said. Moyra raised her eyebrows. Five leaned forward.

'How did you know who she is,' he said, eager to hear how she'd figured it out.

'Ah. I've seen her before,' said Moyra.

'Oh,' Five said, disappointed.

'Yes. At Hargest, years ago, when I was younger, and your lady was a girl. I have a fairly good memory for faces, and hers is not exactly forgettable.'

No, Five thought, it isn't.

Freya leaned over, stuck a finger in Moyra's soup bowl, ran it around the inside, lifted it to her mouth, and sucked the soup off it. She savoured it for a moment.

'I thought you didn't want any,' Moyra said.

'I want information,' Freya whispered.

'And if I don't want to give you any?'

'Then we let everyone round here know you're a Dominie,' Five said.

'Everyone around here already knows I'm a Dominie, Snorri's Five,' Moyra said calmly. 'It's fine, as long as nobody knows.'

'What?'

'I am a good neighbour. I know things. I give good advice. I can mend things, and read tongues, and heal people and animals. I know the Book and the law, though I am not a Bookman. I can help people deal with the Council. I'm useful, and because this is Memika, and not some backwards shithole like Losso, nobody wants to know *how* I know these things. And so people around here are very good at looking after me.'

She paused to let them take this in.

'If you were to go all around Memika, talking about how a Dominie lives in their midst, the few nasty folk who still bear a grudge may take an interest in me, and want to flay my skin off, or do other uncomfortable things to me. And there are still other misguided souls who may want to rally behind me, and call me their leader, and have me raise an army, and bring back the Dominies, defeat the king, re-establish Dominion, blah blah blah.'

She eyed them, sharply.

'And, I'm not interested. Ilikethat Dominion is over. I am one of those who never wanted it in the first place.'

Five considered the slender, scholarly woman sitting sideways in her chair, one leg casually bent over the other one. She didn't look like a warlord.

'What about the guard at the Library,' Five said. 'How d'you get past him?'

'I am of a certain age,' Moyra said with a thin smile. 'The guard only notices women he wants to bed. I lower my voice, I keep my hood up, and it's fairly easy.'

She spooned some soup into her mouth and chewed it, regarding them.

Five knew that in thatfairlylay a whole host of Dominie tricks and wrinkles to do with bending men's minds. It was what they did, after all.

*

Freya eyed Moyra.

What do you want with us, Dominie.

Moyra finished chewing the piece of Barbarian Soup and swallowed it.

'How long did it take?' she said.

'How long did what take,' Five said.

'How long was that thing at your mistress,' Moyra said.

Freya glared at Moyra.

'How did you...' Five said.

'I can tell you how I worked it out,' Moyra said.

'I'd like to hear that,' Five said.

Moyra put her soup bowl down and leaned forward, elbows on knees, speaking to Freya.

'The rumour is that you were killed by a worm, in the mountains,' she said quietly. 'Since you are not dead and apparently unmutilated, that can't be what happened. But neither are you in Hargest, so you and your people have parted company. I tried hard to think of a reason why you, of all people, would abandon a Hargest army, and I couldn't think of one. I must suppose, then, that the party left you. But why would they leave you?'

Moyra sat back and squinted at them both.

'Perhaps they thought you dead,' she said, 'but in that case, why did they not take you with them? Hargest is the proudest of all armies, and it always buries its own dead. And you are its greatest flower. If there had been an anklebone of you left on the plain, they would have taken it back and nailed it to the wall and hung a flag over it.'

Freya felt her anger stirring at this flippancy. But Moyra picked up her teacup calmly, and had a sip.

'Hargest also likes to think of itself as the purest of all armies. The only reason I could think they would leave you there is if they didn't wish to touch you. And the only reason I could think they wouldn't wish to touch you, was they felt you'd been defiled. But what could have defiled you?'

She opened her pale eyes wide, and held out her hands, then shrugged.

'And so we come back to the thing that took your mistress,' she said.

Freya and Moyra stared at each other.

'I have studied these things,' Moyra said. 'I know what they are capable of. It would explain their story of you having been killed. It would explain why they wouldn't tell the truth.'

She paused.

'I imagine you were left for dead,' she said. 'I can only imagine the ordeal you must have had. From what I know of what worms can do...'

Moyra frowned suddenly, and grimaced, and stared hard into the fire for a moment.

'If my guess is correct, it would also explain why you are so famed as a great speaker, yet you have barely uttered a word since we met. And if I am right, then... indeed, my heart aches for you.'

She sat back, regarding Freya, who looked back at her for a long moment, and finally nodded once in agreement.

'I think I can tell you what it was,' Moyra said. 'Do you want to know?

Freya nodded.

Moyra got up from the table, went over to the bookshelves and pulled down a thick book which she brought to over to them. She sat down and opened it at the index, and looked up at Freya.

'I must ask you some questions,' she said.

Freya nodded, tight-lipped.

'I'll try and keep it to yes or no answers,' Moyra said, 'so that you do not need to speak. But it could be that you have to give more detail. Are you ready?'

Freya nodded.

'Was it small?'

Freya shook her head.

'Large, then? Larger than a cow?'

Freya nodded.

'Did it live in a cave?'

Freya nodded.

'Did it have wings?'

Freya frowned, and shook her head impatiently.

'Why do you frown?'

Freya was silent. Moyra stared at her intently.

'Tell me, Freya,' she said at last, 'did you...seeit?'

Freya took a deep breath and swallowed. She said nothing for a moment.

'What did you see,' said Moyra.

'It looked like...' Five began.

'Sssh,' Moyra said sharply. 'I'm talking to your mistress. I will come to you.'

Freya glanced at Five but gave no sign of wanting to hear what Five thought.

'It seemed like a man.'

Moyra sat back and let out her breath, as if she'd caught it sharply.

'Like a man did this to you.'

Freya nodded.

'But... did you think itwasa man?'

Freya shook her head.

'You knew it to be the image of a man?'

Freya nodded.

'Dressed all in green,' Moyra said.

Freya stared at her.

'His face hidden by a mask.'

Freya nodded slowly. Moyra nodded too.

She rubbed her eye with her long middle finger and blinked.

'I will ask Five some questions. Take a break.'

Freya stood up and walked off, jerking her head from side to side to free her stiff neck.

Five sat down, baffled by Freya's description of something that had not been there.

For the next while, Moyra plied Five with questions: What did you see? Where did it come from? What did it look like? How soon did you see to Freya? How long did you drag her? How far do you think you went? When you washed her, had the stuff on her dried up? Had it become a crust, or was it rubbery? Did it leave a mark on her? Did you save any of it?

Five answered each question. Freya had wandered over to the soup pot and helped herself to some, but as Five talked about the long, greyish-brown worm with the black cables about its mouth, Freya stopped eating and watched, frowning.

Moyra glanced up at her.

'This thing plays with our minds,' she said to Freya. 'You saw what you were supposed to see. Five saw its true form. Or, truer form, anyway.'

Freya looked at Five.

'You never asked,' Five said, feeling guilty.

'Is there some reason why you don't tell each other what you're thinking,' Moyra said.

Freya's frown deepened into a scowl.

'I would advise you to get over that,' Moyra said. 'The truth may hurt, but it's the best foundation to build on.'

She looked at the book, ran her finger down the index, turned to a page and then then turned it and showed it to Freya and Five.

'Was it one of these,' she said.

Five's heart skipped a beat, but was also shocked and looked up at Freya: she had grabbed Five's hand.

There were two pictures. Freya recognised the figure of the man, crudely drawn, the face more human-looking but still concealed by a mask that looked like a smile.

Five recognised the heavy girth and length of the thing that had engulfed Freya.