The Bloodbaths | Page 9

where you find it. Do fishermen buy many
books?"
She sighed. "No, nor do they order forms or proclamations. But
sometimes father prints holy books, land records, important council
documents. Those I don't mind printing, since they contribute to the
glory of Rond, somehow. Alas," she said and smiled ruefully, hefting
her wine, "most of my day is spent on nonsense."
"It will get better. With the new road, the demand for books will
increase. New libraries to be stocked, new book buyers coming through
town."
"And even more paperwork to print up." The wine glass tilted back and
forth, almost spilling. "Forms, forms, forms."
"We have an entire department of scholars at the Guild who sit in a
windowless room all day, tracking accounts."
Her eyes crossed. "They must be blind."
"Or consumptive from inhaling nothing but lamp oil smoke."
Crixus fed her a berry. Her lips curved in delight around his fingers.
"Good?"
"Hmm hmmm," she said around the blackberry. "Is that what it's like to
be rich? Fed by slaves?"
"I'm hardly your slave," he said with mock outrage.
Kharrina leaned forward until her breath brushed his face. "You say
that now
* * *
A sliver of moon slashed through the clouds, illuminating their faces
enough to see each other's satisfied smile. Kharrina pressed against
Crixus as they walked through the streets to his inn. The route she

chose was lined with apartments and houses, but most townsfolk were
inside, asleep or gathered around the hearth. Street cleaners pushed
sewage into drainage trenches with ragged brooms.
"It's so peaceful," he said, his voice hushed. "At this hour, my
neighborhood would still be a madhouse with drunkards and bawds.
And muggers."
"Don't bring that to our little Restia." Kharrina watched the clouds pass
over the moon. "The reason it's quiet here is because we love our town.
A brawl on Friday is the talk of the town on Saturday. Even the sailors
know to behave." She chuckled. "Sometimes."
"Are you an authority?" He laughed at her as she slapped his stomach.
Kharrina said nothing at the jibe, but her eyes and her sly smile
answered his question.
Crixus bought a flagon of wine and two goblets from the innkeeper.
The main room flickered in torch light and tobacco smoke. The tables
had filled with revelers joking and shouting or gambling with tense
faces. Waitresses weaved between the tables with jugs of ale in their
muscular arms.
They mounted the back stairs to the second floor, divided into six
rooms of which he, Stamm, and Gavri rented three. Stamm was either
exploring the other pubs of Restia or drinking alone. Gavri retired early
as a rule. Careful scouting had established that this inn had the softest,
cleanest beds, free of insect life. Kharrina flopped on it and rolled
around.
"I want one of these," she said. "Father still thinks straw mattresses
befit sturdy tradesmen."
Crixus filled the goblets to the brim and handed one to her. "What
should we toast?"
She lay on her stomach, legs bent, looking years younger. "Soft beds."

They drank to soft beds. Kharrina gulped down half the glass.
"Darling!" Crixus said in mock alarm. "I have to take you back to your
father tonight. Let's not give him more reasons to hate me."
"Other than the fact that you have ravished his daughter, and you're
going to steal her away from his dirty, smelly, sweaty shop forever?"
He knelt in front of her, face to face. "Ravishing, yes, I am guilty. But I
haven't stolen you yet."
Kharrina kissed his forehead. "Promise you'll try."
Cupping her chin, he gave her a kiss. "But if you ask me to steal you, is
it still a crime?"
"To father it is," she said, giggling.
"Now, wait." He stood and began to pace the room. "Let's be serious
for a moment. Your father resents me."
"He doesn't." Kharrina removed her sandals.
"Alman hasn't exactly warmed up to me."
"He has in his own way. I've had suitors before, you know. Some he
chased away with a rod. That you've gotten this far is a sign that his
resistance is weakening."
Crixus became quiet. Kharrina held out her hands until he relented and
climbed onto the bed. She embraced him. "Don't sulk. You know you're
not my first lover. Would you want a child bride, who you have to raise
like a daughter before you can make her a woman?"
He set the goblet on the flat bed post. "I suppose not. I prefer not to
think of the men who came before me."
"You were pleased enough to steal me away from that boy the first time
we met."

He remembered their meeting in the field at dawn, where he had been
scouting for