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was just thinking how pleased he’d be if he knew we were spending a whole afternoon just talking about him.”
    “I shan’t tell him.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “Should I go on?”
    “Let’s order some more tea first.”
    “Very well.”
    Chapter Three
    I looked at him after he’d finished speaking, struck by several things but not sure what to say or to ask. For one thing, I’d forgotten that when Vlad starts telling a story, you had best get yourself a tall glass of something and settle in for the duration. I thought this over, and all that he’d told me, and finally said, “Who did the boy kill?”
    “A fellow named Loraan.”
    I controlled my reaction, stared at Vlad, and waited. He said, “I take it you know who he was?”
    “Yes. I follow your career, you know. I’d thought he was pretty permanently dead.”
    Vlad shrugged. “Take it up with Morrolan. Or rather with Blackwand.”
    I nodded. “The boy saved your life?”
    “The simple answer is yes. The more complicated answer would take a week.”
    “But you owe him.”
    “Yes.”
    “I see. What happened while you were waiting for me?”
    “I learned everything about Fyres that was public knowledge, and a little that wasn’t.”
    “What did you learn?”
    “Not much. He liked being talked about, he liked owning things, he didn’t like anyone knowing what he was up to. The accountants are going to be hard at work to figure out exactly what he owed and what he was worth—I imagine his heirs are pretty nervous.”
    “It’ll be harder without those papers.”
    “Yeah. But I’ll probably return them when I’m done. I’m in more of a hurry than they are.”
    “What else has happened?”
    “Who do you mean?”
    “With the boy.”
    “Oh. Nothing. She’s still trying to figure it out. I guess it isn’t easy to know what’s going on in someone’s head.”
    That, of course, was the understatement of Vlad’s life.
    “What’s she done?”
    “Stared into his eyes a lot.”
    “Notice any sorcery?”
    “No.”
    I thought for a minute, then, “Take me to the cottage,” I said. “I want to see it, and I want to meet this woman, and we can go over the information there as well as anywhere else.”
    “We?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.”
    We struck out for the cottage, walking. I like walking; I don’t do enough of it. It was about four miles, deep in the woods, and the cottage really was painted bright blue so that it showed against the greens of the woods to a truly horrifying effect.
    As we approached, a reddish dog ran out the door and stood in front of us, wagging its tail and letting its tongue hang out. It sniffed me, backed away with its head cocked, barked twice, and sniffed me again. After consulting with its canine sensibilities, it decided I was provisionally all right and asked us if we wanted to play. When we took too long to decide, it ran back toward the house. The door opened again, and a matron came out.
    Vlad said, “This is my friend, Kiera. I’m not going to try to pronounce your name.”
    She looked at me, then nodded. “Hwdf rjaanci,” she said.
    “Hwdf rjaanci,” I repeated.
    “Kiera,” she said. “You look like a Jhereg.”
    I could feel Vlad not looking at me and not grinning. I shrugged. She said, “Call me Mother; everyone around here does.”
    “All right, Mother.”
    She asked Vlad, “Did you learn anything?”
    “Not yet.” He held up the parcel I’d given him. “We’re just going to look things over now.”
    “Come in, then.”
    We did, the dog following behind. The inside was even worse than Vlad had described it. I didn’t comment. Savn was sitting on a stool with his back to the fire, staring straight ahead. It was creepy. It was sad. “Battle shock,” I murmured under my breath.
    “What?” said the old woman.
    I shook my head. Savn wasn’t a bad-looking young man, for a Teckla—thin, maybe a bit wan, but good bones. Hwdf rjaanci was sitting next to him, stroking the back