you could arrange for us to go
there. The Vadani aren’t allowing any of us across the border, they’re afraid it’ll make the Mezentines more determined to
carry on with the war. If you could get Duke Orsea to persuade the Vadani, we’d be safe. Juifrez would see the sense in that.
Well?”
Miel shook his head, though of course she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t quite sure when or why, but the balance between
them had changed. “Orsea doesn’t like me much anymore,” he said. “And I don’t know Duke Valens, there’s no reason why he’d
put himself out for me.”
“Don’t you care?” She sounded angry, almost. “You sound like you aren’t really interested.”
“I’m not,” he heard himself say. He’d pinpointed the shift; it had been the moment when he’d remembered her husband’s name.
“At least …” He sighed. “The best thing would be if your husband didn’t see me,” he said. “But I can’t ask you to lie to him,
or anything like that.”
“No, you can’t.” Snapped back at him, as if she was afraid of the very thought. “I’ve never lied to Juifrez.”
No, he thought; but you probably would, if I worked on you a little. But I’m not going to do that. I’m in enough trouble already
on account of another man’s wife. “Good,” he said. “Look, if you think it’s worth trying to get help from the Vadani, I’m
hardly going to argue. I’m just not sure it’ll come to anything, that’s all.”
“You sound like you want us to sell you to the Mezentines.”
“No, not really.”
The air felt brittle; he felt as though he could ball his fist and smash it, and the inside of the barn would split into hundreds
of facets, like a splintered mirror. Just the effect he had on people, he assumed. “I’m not in any position to tell you what
to do, am I?” he said, and it came out sounding peevish and bitter, which wasn’t what he’d intended. “I’m sorry,” he added
quickly, but she didn’t seem to have heard. “If it wasn’t for your people, I’d probably have died on the battlefield, or been
picked up by the enemy, which amounts to the same thing.”
She sighed. “You’re the Ducas,” she said. “You can’t help being valuable, to someone or other. Finding you was like finding
someone else’s purse in the street. We aren’t thieves, but we do need the money.” She turned, finally, and looked at him.
Exasperation? Maybe. “It’d be easier if you weren’t so damned accommodating. Aristocratic good manners, I suppose.” She shrugged.
“And for pity’s sake stop fiddling with that stuff. You’re no good at it, and the Ducas isn’t supposed to be able to work
for his living. Leave it. One of the men can do it tonight, when they get back.”
She walked away and left him; nothing decided, and he wasn’t even allowed to try and make himself useful. He thought: she
doesn’t love her husband, or not particularly, but that’s not an important issue in her life. It’s probably a good thing to
be beyond the reach of love. And then he thought of Ziani Vaatzes, and the things he’d done for love, and the things he’d
done with love, and with lovers. Ziani Vaatzes could mend chainmail, and nobody would think twice about it; he could probably
sew, too. He could certainly bring down cities, and ruin the lives of other people; and all for love, and with it, using it
as a tool, as was fitting for a skilled artisan.
Use or be used, he thought. These people can use me, as Ziani used me; it’s the Ducas’ function in society to be useful. (He
wondered: if Vaatzes were standing in front of me right now, would I try to kill him? Answer, yes; instinctively, without
thinking, like a dog with a bird.)
Nobody likes being bored, especially when their life is also hanging in the balance. But the Ducas learns boredom, just as
he learns the rapier, the lute and the management of horse, hound and falcon. Miel leaned
there. The Vadani aren’t allowing any of us across the border, they’re afraid it’ll make the Mezentines more determined to
carry on with the war. If you could get Duke Orsea to persuade the Vadani, we’d be safe. Juifrez would see the sense in that.
Well?”
Miel shook his head, though of course she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t quite sure when or why, but the balance between
them had changed. “Orsea doesn’t like me much anymore,” he said. “And I don’t know Duke Valens, there’s no reason why he’d
put himself out for me.”
“Don’t you care?” She sounded angry, almost. “You sound like you aren’t really interested.”
“I’m not,” he heard himself say. He’d pinpointed the shift; it had been the moment when he’d remembered her husband’s name.
“At least …” He sighed. “The best thing would be if your husband didn’t see me,” he said. “But I can’t ask you to lie to him,
or anything like that.”
“No, you can’t.” Snapped back at him, as if she was afraid of the very thought. “I’ve never lied to Juifrez.”
No, he thought; but you probably would, if I worked on you a little. But I’m not going to do that. I’m in enough trouble already
on account of another man’s wife. “Good,” he said. “Look, if you think it’s worth trying to get help from the Vadani, I’m
hardly going to argue. I’m just not sure it’ll come to anything, that’s all.”
“You sound like you want us to sell you to the Mezentines.”
“No, not really.”
The air felt brittle; he felt as though he could ball his fist and smash it, and the inside of the barn would split into hundreds
of facets, like a splintered mirror. Just the effect he had on people, he assumed. “I’m not in any position to tell you what
to do, am I?” he said, and it came out sounding peevish and bitter, which wasn’t what he’d intended. “I’m sorry,” he added
quickly, but she didn’t seem to have heard. “If it wasn’t for your people, I’d probably have died on the battlefield, or been
picked up by the enemy, which amounts to the same thing.”
She sighed. “You’re the Ducas,” she said. “You can’t help being valuable, to someone or other. Finding you was like finding
someone else’s purse in the street. We aren’t thieves, but we do need the money.” She turned, finally, and looked at him.
Exasperation? Maybe. “It’d be easier if you weren’t so damned accommodating. Aristocratic good manners, I suppose.” She shrugged.
“And for pity’s sake stop fiddling with that stuff. You’re no good at it, and the Ducas isn’t supposed to be able to work
for his living. Leave it. One of the men can do it tonight, when they get back.”
She walked away and left him; nothing decided, and he wasn’t even allowed to try and make himself useful. He thought: she
doesn’t love her husband, or not particularly, but that’s not an important issue in her life. It’s probably a good thing to
be beyond the reach of love. And then he thought of Ziani Vaatzes, and the things he’d done for love, and the things he’d
done with love, and with lovers. Ziani Vaatzes could mend chainmail, and nobody would think twice about it; he could probably
sew, too. He could certainly bring down cities, and ruin the lives of other people; and all for love, and with it, using it
as a tool, as was fitting for a skilled artisan.
Use or be used, he thought. These people can use me, as Ziani used me; it’s the Ducas’ function in society to be useful. (He
wondered: if Vaatzes were standing in front of me right now, would I try to kill him? Answer, yes; instinctively, without
thinking, like a dog with a bird.)
Nobody likes being bored, especially when their life is also hanging in the balance. But the Ducas learns boredom, just as
he learns the rapier, the lute and the management of horse, hound and falcon. Miel leaned
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