horses and a well of our own.” She took a big draught of beer, and her face went pale. “Might have been the promise of a well that pushed me over the edge. All those years of hauling buckets.” She shook. “And then one night he came around drunk. He wasn’t talking flowers and log houses. He…He…”
“I reckon we knows that part,” said Mama. “So you kilt him. And rightly so. Harald Suthom was a mean drunk, quick to rape, and from what I hears quick to kill. Ain’t nobody cryin’ no tears for his worthless ass, child.”
I’m not sure Gertriss heard. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide. She was looking at me but not seeing me at all.
“I tried to just get out of the house,” she said. “All I wanted to do was get away from him. Come to Rannit. Get away from him. But he wouldn’t let me go, Mama. He hit me, knocked me down. I kicked him but he was too drunk to even feel it. He pushed me down on my bed, and I always sleep with a knife under my pillow. A good plain sharp knife, that’s what Daddy always taught us girls. A good sharp knife, put where you can reach it when you need it most.”
She blinked and was back with us.
“Daddy would have been proud. A good sharp knife, where I could reach it. Harald didn’t even know I’d cut him at first. He was laughing when he died. Laughing and cussing. Then he just fell on me. Dead. Stinking. Dead.”
Mama rose and went to Gertriss and hugged her and whispered for a long time. I sat there awkwardly and drank beer.
When Mama let Gertriss go, they were both crying, both trying hard to hide it.
I rose. “We all need another beer.” I left and took my time.
When I came back, beers in hand, Three-leg Cat was perched on Mama’s lap, purring and preening as she scratched him behind his one intact ear. Gertriss was fussing with her makeup, squinting into one of the new tiny glass mirrors ladies have begun to carry in their purses this season.
I distributed beers. Mama’s first bottle was empty. Gertriss had hardly touched hers. I hate to see good beer get warm, so I took it.
I gathered the emotional storm was over. But there were still things I needed to know. “So the Sprangs came here looking for money.”
“Mostly.” Mama took a draught and belched, loud as any man, and Gertriss laughed. “Vengeance, too, after they heard Gertriss had took up with a man. They can’t take no vengeance on women. But they’ve got their eyes set on you, boy, thanks to me.”
I shrugged. “How much money are we talking here?”
“Mama’s eyes went hard. “You ain’t thinking about paying them road apples, ’ere you?”
“Why not? If the price is right, it seems like a good way to get rid of them for good. How much?”
“Eight crowns,” said Gertriss softly. “In Old Kingdom coin. They won’t take Regency paper, or anything but gold.”
I snorted. “Hell. Eight crowns. Fine. I can afford that. I’ll pay them, when they get out of the Old Ruth. By then they’ll be so ready to get the Hell out of Rannit they probably won’t stop running long enough to count it.”
“I can’t let you do that, Mr. Markhat.”
“What is it with Hog women? I said I’d pay them. It’s not a fortune. If you want, call it a loan. Even on what your cheapskate boss pays you, eight crowns won’t take that long.” I frowned. From their expressions, I was missing something fundamental to the situation. “This is some Old Law country thing, isn’t it? Do I also have to give them an ear? Agree to consort with their oldest, ugliest daughter? Spill it. I’m a city man, remember?”
Mama sighed. “Tell him the rest, child. I’m liable to tell it wrong.”
I put my beer down a little too hard.
“Wrong or right, ladies, somebody better start telling me something right now.”
Gertriss cleared her throat. “I didn’t know this, until today. I swear I didn’t, Mr. Markhat. Mama just told me.”
“Keep talking.”
“Harald. Harald—he had a
“I reckon we knows that part,” said Mama. “So you kilt him. And rightly so. Harald Suthom was a mean drunk, quick to rape, and from what I hears quick to kill. Ain’t nobody cryin’ no tears for his worthless ass, child.”
I’m not sure Gertriss heard. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide. She was looking at me but not seeing me at all.
“I tried to just get out of the house,” she said. “All I wanted to do was get away from him. Come to Rannit. Get away from him. But he wouldn’t let me go, Mama. He hit me, knocked me down. I kicked him but he was too drunk to even feel it. He pushed me down on my bed, and I always sleep with a knife under my pillow. A good plain sharp knife, that’s what Daddy always taught us girls. A good sharp knife, put where you can reach it when you need it most.”
She blinked and was back with us.
“Daddy would have been proud. A good sharp knife, where I could reach it. Harald didn’t even know I’d cut him at first. He was laughing when he died. Laughing and cussing. Then he just fell on me. Dead. Stinking. Dead.”
Mama rose and went to Gertriss and hugged her and whispered for a long time. I sat there awkwardly and drank beer.
When Mama let Gertriss go, they were both crying, both trying hard to hide it.
I rose. “We all need another beer.” I left and took my time.
When I came back, beers in hand, Three-leg Cat was perched on Mama’s lap, purring and preening as she scratched him behind his one intact ear. Gertriss was fussing with her makeup, squinting into one of the new tiny glass mirrors ladies have begun to carry in their purses this season.
I distributed beers. Mama’s first bottle was empty. Gertriss had hardly touched hers. I hate to see good beer get warm, so I took it.
I gathered the emotional storm was over. But there were still things I needed to know. “So the Sprangs came here looking for money.”
“Mostly.” Mama took a draught and belched, loud as any man, and Gertriss laughed. “Vengeance, too, after they heard Gertriss had took up with a man. They can’t take no vengeance on women. But they’ve got their eyes set on you, boy, thanks to me.”
I shrugged. “How much money are we talking here?”
“Mama’s eyes went hard. “You ain’t thinking about paying them road apples, ’ere you?”
“Why not? If the price is right, it seems like a good way to get rid of them for good. How much?”
“Eight crowns,” said Gertriss softly. “In Old Kingdom coin. They won’t take Regency paper, or anything but gold.”
I snorted. “Hell. Eight crowns. Fine. I can afford that. I’ll pay them, when they get out of the Old Ruth. By then they’ll be so ready to get the Hell out of Rannit they probably won’t stop running long enough to count it.”
“I can’t let you do that, Mr. Markhat.”
“What is it with Hog women? I said I’d pay them. It’s not a fortune. If you want, call it a loan. Even on what your cheapskate boss pays you, eight crowns won’t take that long.” I frowned. From their expressions, I was missing something fundamental to the situation. “This is some Old Law country thing, isn’t it? Do I also have to give them an ear? Agree to consort with their oldest, ugliest daughter? Spill it. I’m a city man, remember?”
Mama sighed. “Tell him the rest, child. I’m liable to tell it wrong.”
I put my beer down a little too hard.
“Wrong or right, ladies, somebody better start telling me something right now.”
Gertriss cleared her throat. “I didn’t know this, until today. I swear I didn’t, Mr. Markhat. Mama just told me.”
“Keep talking.”
“Harald. Harald—he had a
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