frantic speed. Her clothing was in disarray and her headscarf was gone, her black hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
“Mistress Damla,” said Caina in a quiet voice, slipping her knife back into its sheath.
Damla hissed in alarm and looked up. She had been crying, though she did not look injured. She grabbed something from the bed, and Caina found herself looking at the end of a loaded crossbow.
“You,” whispered Damla. “Did you bring this upon us?”
Caina raised her hands, grateful she had put away the knife. “What happened?”
“Were you spying for him?” said Damla. “Master Marius…is that even your real name?”
“What happened?” said Caina again.
“So convenient,” said Damla. “You rented a room and talked with Anburj, and then you disappeared into the night. Then the soldiers came. Did you bring them here? Did you?”
“What soldiers?” said Caina, taking a step closer. “Tell me what happened, please.”
Damla pointed with the crossbow. “Don’t move! Get out of here!”
“I can’t do both,” said Caina.
“Where did you go last night?” said Damla. “Why didn’t you come back? Did you tell Anburj to bring his men here, that we would make an easy target?”
“I didn’t come back because I got drunk and slept in the gutter,” said Caina. That was mostly true. “I woke up, came here, and found the House smashed.”
“A likely story,” said Damla. She tried to sound threatening, but the crossbow trembled in her hands. “What happened to your hair?”
Caina ran a hand along her scalp, the bristles rasping against her palm. “I cut it off.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s too damned hot in Istarinmul,” said Caina, “and you have more important things to think about than my hair. Damla, please, tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”
“No!” said Damla. “It is just another lie! You are working with them! Get out of here, now, or I shall shoot you!”
“No,” said Caina, taking another step closer. “You won’t.”
Damla scowled. “Are you so sure of that? Would you trust to my mercy after what you did to my sons?”
“No,” said Caina, “but that crossbow isn’t loaded properly.”
Damla squeezed the trigger. The weapon made a sad little twanging noise, and the quarrel remained motionless.
For a moment they stared at the bow in silence.
“The string, said Caina at last. “It wasn’t wound…”
Damla threw it against the bed with a curse. “Useless thing. Useless, useless, useless damned thing! It was my husband’s. His weapons did not save him in Marsis, and neither will they save my sons now.”
“Who took your sons?” said Caina.
“Why?” said Damla. “Why are you trying to help me? Not that you can help me. But why would the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers care what happens to my sons?”
“They don’t,” said Caina. “But I do. And why?” She thought for a moment. “I don’t like slavers.” Damla flinched. “That was what happened, wasn’t it? The Brotherhood took your sons.”
“Yes,” hissed Damla. She closed her eyes. “My sons, my slaves, and even the freeborn servants I hired. The Brotherhood’s Collectors took them all.”
“Tell me why,” said Caina.
The words poured from Damla, as if it had taken all her strength to hold them back.
“It was the middle of the night,” said Damla. “We had already closed, and Sulaman and Mazyan had left. It had been a good night. We sold much coffee, for Sulaman is very popular. Then the soldiers kicked down the door, rounded up everyone, and made us stand in the common room.”
“Soldiers,” said Caina. “Were they Collectors?”
“Yes,” said Damla.
Caina said nothing, another wave of guilt rolling through her. If she had not buckled under the weight of her emotions, if she had not been drunk in the Sanctuary, then she would have been here. Perhaps she could have done something to stop it.
On the other hand, she might well be in
“Mistress Damla,” said Caina in a quiet voice, slipping her knife back into its sheath.
Damla hissed in alarm and looked up. She had been crying, though she did not look injured. She grabbed something from the bed, and Caina found herself looking at the end of a loaded crossbow.
“You,” whispered Damla. “Did you bring this upon us?”
Caina raised her hands, grateful she had put away the knife. “What happened?”
“Were you spying for him?” said Damla. “Master Marius…is that even your real name?”
“What happened?” said Caina again.
“So convenient,” said Damla. “You rented a room and talked with Anburj, and then you disappeared into the night. Then the soldiers came. Did you bring them here? Did you?”
“What soldiers?” said Caina, taking a step closer. “Tell me what happened, please.”
Damla pointed with the crossbow. “Don’t move! Get out of here!”
“I can’t do both,” said Caina.
“Where did you go last night?” said Damla. “Why didn’t you come back? Did you tell Anburj to bring his men here, that we would make an easy target?”
“I didn’t come back because I got drunk and slept in the gutter,” said Caina. That was mostly true. “I woke up, came here, and found the House smashed.”
“A likely story,” said Damla. She tried to sound threatening, but the crossbow trembled in her hands. “What happened to your hair?”
Caina ran a hand along her scalp, the bristles rasping against her palm. “I cut it off.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s too damned hot in Istarinmul,” said Caina, “and you have more important things to think about than my hair. Damla, please, tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”
“No!” said Damla. “It is just another lie! You are working with them! Get out of here, now, or I shall shoot you!”
“No,” said Caina, taking another step closer. “You won’t.”
Damla scowled. “Are you so sure of that? Would you trust to my mercy after what you did to my sons?”
“No,” said Caina, “but that crossbow isn’t loaded properly.”
Damla squeezed the trigger. The weapon made a sad little twanging noise, and the quarrel remained motionless.
For a moment they stared at the bow in silence.
“The string, said Caina at last. “It wasn’t wound…”
Damla threw it against the bed with a curse. “Useless thing. Useless, useless, useless damned thing! It was my husband’s. His weapons did not save him in Marsis, and neither will they save my sons now.”
“Who took your sons?” said Caina.
“Why?” said Damla. “Why are you trying to help me? Not that you can help me. But why would the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers care what happens to my sons?”
“They don’t,” said Caina. “But I do. And why?” She thought for a moment. “I don’t like slavers.” Damla flinched. “That was what happened, wasn’t it? The Brotherhood took your sons.”
“Yes,” hissed Damla. She closed her eyes. “My sons, my slaves, and even the freeborn servants I hired. The Brotherhood’s Collectors took them all.”
“Tell me why,” said Caina.
The words poured from Damla, as if it had taken all her strength to hold them back.
“It was the middle of the night,” said Damla. “We had already closed, and Sulaman and Mazyan had left. It had been a good night. We sold much coffee, for Sulaman is very popular. Then the soldiers kicked down the door, rounded up everyone, and made us stand in the common room.”
“Soldiers,” said Caina. “Were they Collectors?”
“Yes,” said Damla.
Caina said nothing, another wave of guilt rolling through her. If she had not buckled under the weight of her emotions, if she had not been drunk in the Sanctuary, then she would have been here. Perhaps she could have done something to stop it.
On the other hand, she might well be in
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