him?’
‘What’s your
interest, Thirl?’
He shrugged.
‘Harin needs capital.’
The
conversation seemed to be slipping out of her grasp. ‘Capital for
what?’
He gave an
uneasy look towards Sheyli. ‘You may as well know. We are going to
turn this place into a wayside tavern for pilgrims.’
Keris stared,
slack-minded, unable even to consider the ramifications of what he
said.
Sheyli
struggled to raise herself, saying in pained protest, ‘But you’re a
mapmaker, Thirl.’
‘No, I’m not.
I hate maps. And I hate spending time in the Unstable. I’m not Dad.
I’d be dead in my first three months out there. I’m going to be an
innkeeper. And where better than this? A day’s ride from Hopen Grat
and the kinesis chain. I told Harin years ago that this would be a
tavern if anything ever happened to Dad.’
‘You are going
to change your father’s shop into a pilgrim’s hostel?’ his mother
asked, incredulous.
‘Not exactly.
Into a tavern that also has rooms to rent. In partnership with
Harin. Because he knows the business.’
Sheyli was
appalled. ‘A public house ? You would try to seduce pilgrims
away from the holy nature of their journey and into the
licentiousness of a tavern?’
Keris added
her own touch of acid bitterness. ‘And my dowry is supposed to
supply the capital for their seduction, it seems.’
Sheyli shook
her head. ‘It’s just not possible. You are Piers’ only son: you
have to continue his trade. That’s the Rule. There has been a
mapmaker’s shop on this site since—since—well, probably since the
Rending. Chantry will never countenance such a change.’
Thirl smiled
thinly. ‘Mother, Mother, do you think that everyone follows the
Rule to the letter? Nothing would ever get done! Anyway, this is
one change Chantry will countenance because they don’t like
Unstablers and I’m offering to become a good solid citizen instead
of a mapmaker who spends half the year in the Unstable. I spoke to
a chantor at the Rule Office of Order in Upper Kibble only today.
And he is willing to grant me a dispensation for a, er,
consideration.’
Sheyli almost
choked. ‘You bribed him?’
‘I will, yes.
Don’t worry, Mother, everybody does it.’
‘I don’t,’ she
said, with dignity. ‘And your father didn’t either. Creation above
all, Thirl! Order must be maintained, and if some people pay others
to thwart the Rule, then Order crumbles, and with it our
safety.’
‘My not being
a mapmaker is hardly going to disintegrate Order, Mother, any more
than your frill flowers do, planted where there should be
cabbages.’ He smiled at her. A smile of rueful charm. Keris didn’t
wait for the rest. She turned and walked out of the room, clenching
her hands in an effort to suppress her anger.
It wasn’t
fair! Anger tumbled towards tears. It just wasn’t fair. She
would have given anything to be a mapmaker. Anything.
She went to
the stable, as she had always done when she was unhappy. There was
something calming about the presence of the animals: the two
crossings-horses standing sleepily in their stalls, the chickens
scratching in the straw, the half-wild stable cat blinking as it
woke briefly to contemplate if flight was necessary, then settling
its nose back down into its fur. It was difficult to maintain a hot
rage when Ygraine and her stable mate, the pack horse named
Tousson, vied with one another for her attention, each hoping for
some titbit from her pocket.
This time,
however, she was not given the time to cool down. No sooner had she
walked over to Ygraine than the sunlight through the door was
blocked by Thirl appearing in the open doorway behind her. He must
have followed her out of the house almost immediately.
She turned on
him, all her tearful rage bubbling out. ‘How could you do that to
Mother? You didn’t need to—not then, not now, not when she’s so
sick and not so soon after Dad’s—’ The stable cat, reacting to the
anger in her voice, scuttled away
‘What’s your
interest, Thirl?’
He shrugged.
‘Harin needs capital.’
The
conversation seemed to be slipping out of her grasp. ‘Capital for
what?’
He gave an
uneasy look towards Sheyli. ‘You may as well know. We are going to
turn this place into a wayside tavern for pilgrims.’
Keris stared,
slack-minded, unable even to consider the ramifications of what he
said.
Sheyli
struggled to raise herself, saying in pained protest, ‘But you’re a
mapmaker, Thirl.’
‘No, I’m not.
I hate maps. And I hate spending time in the Unstable. I’m not Dad.
I’d be dead in my first three months out there. I’m going to be an
innkeeper. And where better than this? A day’s ride from Hopen Grat
and the kinesis chain. I told Harin years ago that this would be a
tavern if anything ever happened to Dad.’
‘You are going
to change your father’s shop into a pilgrim’s hostel?’ his mother
asked, incredulous.
‘Not exactly.
Into a tavern that also has rooms to rent. In partnership with
Harin. Because he knows the business.’
Sheyli was
appalled. ‘A public house ? You would try to seduce pilgrims
away from the holy nature of their journey and into the
licentiousness of a tavern?’
Keris added
her own touch of acid bitterness. ‘And my dowry is supposed to
supply the capital for their seduction, it seems.’
Sheyli shook
her head. ‘It’s just not possible. You are Piers’ only son: you
have to continue his trade. That’s the Rule. There has been a
mapmaker’s shop on this site since—since—well, probably since the
Rending. Chantry will never countenance such a change.’
Thirl smiled
thinly. ‘Mother, Mother, do you think that everyone follows the
Rule to the letter? Nothing would ever get done! Anyway, this is
one change Chantry will countenance because they don’t like
Unstablers and I’m offering to become a good solid citizen instead
of a mapmaker who spends half the year in the Unstable. I spoke to
a chantor at the Rule Office of Order in Upper Kibble only today.
And he is willing to grant me a dispensation for a, er,
consideration.’
Sheyli almost
choked. ‘You bribed him?’
‘I will, yes.
Don’t worry, Mother, everybody does it.’
‘I don’t,’ she
said, with dignity. ‘And your father didn’t either. Creation above
all, Thirl! Order must be maintained, and if some people pay others
to thwart the Rule, then Order crumbles, and with it our
safety.’
‘My not being
a mapmaker is hardly going to disintegrate Order, Mother, any more
than your frill flowers do, planted where there should be
cabbages.’ He smiled at her. A smile of rueful charm. Keris didn’t
wait for the rest. She turned and walked out of the room, clenching
her hands in an effort to suppress her anger.
It wasn’t
fair! Anger tumbled towards tears. It just wasn’t fair. She
would have given anything to be a mapmaker. Anything.
She went to
the stable, as she had always done when she was unhappy. There was
something calming about the presence of the animals: the two
crossings-horses standing sleepily in their stalls, the chickens
scratching in the straw, the half-wild stable cat blinking as it
woke briefly to contemplate if flight was necessary, then settling
its nose back down into its fur. It was difficult to maintain a hot
rage when Ygraine and her stable mate, the pack horse named
Tousson, vied with one another for her attention, each hoping for
some titbit from her pocket.
This time,
however, she was not given the time to cool down. No sooner had she
walked over to Ygraine than the sunlight through the door was
blocked by Thirl appearing in the open doorway behind her. He must
have followed her out of the house almost immediately.
She turned on
him, all her tearful rage bubbling out. ‘How could you do that to
Mother? You didn’t need to—not then, not now, not when she’s so
sick and not so soon after Dad’s—’ The stable cat, reacting to the
anger in her voice, scuttled away
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