helplessly.
“First we have to rebuild the house. Then you’ll start a new carpet.”
Borlon raised his hands and looked at his fingertips, grooved from years of work with the knotting needle. “What did I do to bring this on me? I’m not young enough to finish a carpet of regulation size. I have two wives with the most wondrous hair ever seen in the Emperor’s realm, and—instead of tying a carpet—I will only be able to complete a narrow, little rug—”
“Borlon, please stop complaining. You could have died in the flames, then you couldn’t have accomplished anything in your life.” Now she was really annoyed. That’s probably why she added, “Besides, you still don’t have an heir, so the size of the carpet isn’t very important.”
Yes, Borlon thought bitterly. I haven’t managed to do that either. A man with two wives, who still had no children, had nobody to blame but himself.
* * *
Borlon thought he could see a hint of disapproval, even disgust, in the eyes of his mother-in-law when the little old woman let in the guildmaster of the carpet maker’s guild.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Borlon,” said the guildmaster. “I was deeply shocked when your wife reported to me.… Such a misfortune hasn’t occurred for as long as anyone can remember!”
Was he trying to humiliate him? To rub his nose into it, to show him what a failure he, Borlon, was? He scrutinized the tall, gaunt figure of the guildmaster; the old carpet maker’s gray-flecked hair was more disheveled than Borlon had ever seen it.
It sounded honest. The old man, otherwise always businesslike and serious, was really deeply moved and filled with empathy.
“When did it happen? Last night?” he asked as he sat down. “No one has heard about it in the city—”
“I don’t want people to talk,” Borlon said with effort.
“But why not? You can use all the help you can get—”
“I don’t want it,” Borlon insisted.
The guildmaster observed him for a while and then nodded his understanding. “Well, yes. At least you’re informing me. And you’re asking for my advice.”
Borlon stared down at his hand lying large and heavy on the unfinished wood of the tabletop. The veins on the back of his hand pulsed almost unnoticeably, but continuously. When he began to speak, he had the feeling he was not speaking at all; he listened to himself and thought he could hear Karvita speaking in his voice. Hesitantly at first, then, after he got started, more and more fluently, he repeated what she had drilled into him.
“It’s about my house, Guildmaster. It has to be rebuilt, I need a new knotting frame, new tools—I don’t have enough money for all that. My father got a very bad price for his carpet, back then.” My father was a failure, too, he thought. He tied a wonderful carpet and gave it away for a lousy starvation wage. But at least, he finished a carpet—the son of the failure, on the other hand …
“I know.”
“And?”
“You’re asking for a long-term loan.”
“Yes.”
The old carpet maker opened his hands slowly in a gesture of regret. “Borlon, please don’t put me in a bind. You know the guild regulations. If you don’t have a son, you can’t get credit.”
Borlon had to fight the feeling that he was sinking into a bottomless black hole. “I have no son. I have two wives and neither will bear me a son—”
“Then it probably isn’t the fault of the women.”
Oh yes. Of course not.
He stared at the guildmaster. There was something he was supposed to say now, but he had forgotten it. Or maybe there was nothing he could say.
“Look, Borlon, this sort of credit would have a term of a hundred twenty or a hundred sixty years. The children of your children would still have to pay on it. You can’t make such a decision lightly. And naturally, the guild treasury needs some sort of security. If it appears that you might have no heirs, we can’t give you long-term credit.
“First we have to rebuild the house. Then you’ll start a new carpet.”
Borlon raised his hands and looked at his fingertips, grooved from years of work with the knotting needle. “What did I do to bring this on me? I’m not young enough to finish a carpet of regulation size. I have two wives with the most wondrous hair ever seen in the Emperor’s realm, and—instead of tying a carpet—I will only be able to complete a narrow, little rug—”
“Borlon, please stop complaining. You could have died in the flames, then you couldn’t have accomplished anything in your life.” Now she was really annoyed. That’s probably why she added, “Besides, you still don’t have an heir, so the size of the carpet isn’t very important.”
Yes, Borlon thought bitterly. I haven’t managed to do that either. A man with two wives, who still had no children, had nobody to blame but himself.
* * *
Borlon thought he could see a hint of disapproval, even disgust, in the eyes of his mother-in-law when the little old woman let in the guildmaster of the carpet maker’s guild.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Borlon,” said the guildmaster. “I was deeply shocked when your wife reported to me.… Such a misfortune hasn’t occurred for as long as anyone can remember!”
Was he trying to humiliate him? To rub his nose into it, to show him what a failure he, Borlon, was? He scrutinized the tall, gaunt figure of the guildmaster; the old carpet maker’s gray-flecked hair was more disheveled than Borlon had ever seen it.
It sounded honest. The old man, otherwise always businesslike and serious, was really deeply moved and filled with empathy.
“When did it happen? Last night?” he asked as he sat down. “No one has heard about it in the city—”
“I don’t want people to talk,” Borlon said with effort.
“But why not? You can use all the help you can get—”
“I don’t want it,” Borlon insisted.
The guildmaster observed him for a while and then nodded his understanding. “Well, yes. At least you’re informing me. And you’re asking for my advice.”
Borlon stared down at his hand lying large and heavy on the unfinished wood of the tabletop. The veins on the back of his hand pulsed almost unnoticeably, but continuously. When he began to speak, he had the feeling he was not speaking at all; he listened to himself and thought he could hear Karvita speaking in his voice. Hesitantly at first, then, after he got started, more and more fluently, he repeated what she had drilled into him.
“It’s about my house, Guildmaster. It has to be rebuilt, I need a new knotting frame, new tools—I don’t have enough money for all that. My father got a very bad price for his carpet, back then.” My father was a failure, too, he thought. He tied a wonderful carpet and gave it away for a lousy starvation wage. But at least, he finished a carpet—the son of the failure, on the other hand …
“I know.”
“And?”
“You’re asking for a long-term loan.”
“Yes.”
The old carpet maker opened his hands slowly in a gesture of regret. “Borlon, please don’t put me in a bind. You know the guild regulations. If you don’t have a son, you can’t get credit.”
Borlon had to fight the feeling that he was sinking into a bottomless black hole. “I have no son. I have two wives and neither will bear me a son—”
“Then it probably isn’t the fault of the women.”
Oh yes. Of course not.
He stared at the guildmaster. There was something he was supposed to say now, but he had forgotten it. Or maybe there was nothing he could say.
“Look, Borlon, this sort of credit would have a term of a hundred twenty or a hundred sixty years. The children of your children would still have to pay on it. You can’t make such a decision lightly. And naturally, the guild treasury needs some sort of security. If it appears that you might have no heirs, we can’t give you long-term credit.
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