Free The Lady by K. V. Johansen Page B

goddess of the town, too, of course.” Babbling. He should shut up now.
    Talfan blinked. “In my kitchen?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œPlaying with my girls?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo Holla-Sayan . . . but he’s from the Western Grass.”
    â€œWell, yes. And he’s the Blackdog regardless. I did tell you he was a bit mad,” he added defensively.
    â€œAll caravaneers are a bit mad,” she said. “You as much as any. Sweet Ilbialla, Varro! You brought the Blackdog to my house, a creature like that, in this city. The Red Masks can smell magic and you didn’t think to tell me—”
    â€œI didn’t know! I didn’t know, then, not till last summer. And he’s not a wizard, he’s—”
    â€œWe need to find him,” said Tulip. “We need to find him now.”
    â€œAnd contact whoever’s in charge of the uprising in the suburb,” Talfan said.
    â€œI doubt anybody is. It’s just a mob, mad for revenge. Once they cool, maybe they’ll hear sense.” But Tulip sounded doubtful. “Maybe. Maybe we can find someone they’ll listen to. Jugurthos thinks so.” She eyed Varro, seemed to dismiss him. “Someone they respect. And the city’s going to be in the same state, unless someone takes charge quickly.”
    â€œIn that case we’d better make damned sure it’s Hadidu,” said Talfan.
    â€œHadidu?” Varro’s involuntary protest meant no insult to the man, but Hadidu? Priest, all right, he could accept that, but . . . Hadidu ran a coffeehouse. He baked pastries. He didn’t lead men.
    â€œWe need someone all the city can put their trust in,” said Talfan. “Otherwise we’re doomed. We’ll die arguing, fighting, city against suburb, Family against Family, till the temple gets its nerve back and we’re all in the cages, dying in the sun.”
    Maybe Varro had nodded a bit too vigorous agreement with the last. Talfan scowled at him.
    â€œYou’re right in one thing, Talfan,” Hadidu said. “We can’t afford to have suburb set against city or caravaneers against Marakanders. Varro?” His voice dropped, becoming even quieter. “Can you find your friend?”
    â€œThe Blackdog’s hard to miss,” said Varro. “And Mikki—you did say a bear—he’s, um, well, demon, yes. Half-demon. He’s a half-blooded verrbjarn , and it’ll be night by the time we can get out there. You just need to look for a seven-foot-tall, yellow-haired Northron. That’ll be him. With a spooky sort of silver-blonde woman with eyes like ice and steel beside him, glowering at you. Find her , and that’ll be the end of your Lady, I imagine.” Though not the end of devils in their city. What did Vartu Kingsbane want , anyway?
    He wasn’t half so optimistic as he tried to sound. Holla was going to—Gaguush was going to kill him, getting Holla-Sayan into this.
    On the other hand, Holla seemed to have managed most of it himself.
    â€œLet’s go, then,” Hadidu said. “Talfan, get Shemal ready to travel. Send him to—to someone. I don’t want to know who. Send your daughters. Get them all away again, over the wall to some manor on the southern road where we have friends, up to the mining towns, anywhere out of here, and don’t tell me . Do it now, start now. We can’t fight this war with hostages against us so readily to hand. And if the temple takes me, and you somehow survive—don’t bring my son up to this. If the temple takes me, let it be over.”
    Her lips thinned, but she nodded. “Auntie can take them, like last time. I won’t know where. The baby stays with me.”
    Hadidu didn’t suggest Talfan go too. Varro didn’t suggest that it was maybe his job to order his children’s comings and goings and take thought for their protection. He just nodded, obedient as the