Free Fairs' Point by Melissa Scott Page A

business.”
    “ That would be Idomey,” LaSier said. “The one in the green cap.”
    Rathe nodded. Idomey Quentier wasn’t tall, but she carried he rself like a much bigger woman, and the other women with her clearly deferred to her. And there were nearly a dozen of them: almost as many as were there to support Estel, and Rathe glanced again at LaSier. “She thinks she’s going to win.”
    LaSier shrugged. “Tievet was fool enough to marry the man. We’re definitely obligated to support him—and Tyrseis knows we’ve done our duty. But the damned Malfiliatre business has upended everything.”
    “ Can’t he find other work?” Rathe knew the answer as soon as the words were spoken, and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”
    “ Not with plenty of hale men willing to do the job for the same wage,” LaSier said. “Surely this will run its course soon enough. The entire city can’t have loaned him money.”
    “ You’d be surprised,” Rathe said, thinking of Eslingen, and LaSier managed a sour smile.
    “ Ah. There’s Nelis. I’d best fetch Besetje. Can she stand with you?”
    “ Of course,” Rathe answered. He remembered that from when Besetje was a child, how much the press of bodies in a crowd had distressed her, one more reason she’d never make a pickpocket. Not that the fairgrounds were uncrowded during the races, but a trainer stood on the other side of the ropes, in open ground.
    LaSier returned a moment later, Besetje’s hand firmly held in hers, and planted her in front of one of the pillars that held the roo ftree. “Stay there,” she said, and looked at Rathe. “She mustn’t leave.”
    Besetje said, “I know.”
    Rathe nodded, and took a step back so that he would be in pos ition to grab the younger woman’s sleeve if she lost her composure. She looked calm enough, though—aggressively neat and tidy, her hair scraped back into a tight braid, what must be her best skirt and bodice still smelling of the moth-repelling herbs, but relatively calm. She put her thumb to her mouth, worrying at the nail, then realized what she was doing and tucked her hand into her skirts.
    “ I don’t like it,” she said. “It’s not fair.”
    She hadn’t bothered to lower her voice, and several of the other women shot her disapproving looks.
    “Well, it’s not—”
    Estel handed the baby to one of her friends, and did up her bo dice, looking out over the crowd. “Right, then,” she said, and the room came instantly to order. “Bertal, state your business.”
    Faar sat up straighter in his chair, his hands closing tight over the arms. “Thank you for hearing me, Estel,” he said, “especially since I know this matter’s been settled once already. But things have changed. I’ve lost my job, and been told not to expect it back once things improve again. There’s not much else I can do but watch the door at a shop or a tenantry, and I’ve not found another place that would take me. I give you my word I’ve looked.”
    “ I don’t doubt it,” Estel said.
    Faar nodded. “Thank you for that, too. But the fact is, I’m behind on my rent, and I owe the owner of the low-flyer I paid me to get to work each day. I need more help, and I’m coming to you to ask for it.”
    “ It’s your right,” Estel said. “You’re Tievet’s husband and the father of her daughter. Besetje, what do you have to say for yourself?”
    “ She’s asked me to represent her, Estel,” LaSier said.
    Estel nodded, but Idomey lifted her head. “Let the girl speak for herself. What’s she afraid of?”
    “ I’m not afraid,” Besetje said. “And I want Aunt Cassia to speak for me.”
    “ And she’s brought the points,” Idomey said. “Estel, this is getting out of hand.”
    “ Rathe’s here because I asked him,” Besetje said. “And because he knows what happened before. And I still want Aunt Cassia to speak for me.”
    “ Either she can speak for herself, or she’s not competent,” Idomey