Jaws of Darkness by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online Page B

take a bribe every now and then, but only every now and then. More often, he preferred making people he nabbed suffer, whether by beating them or just by letting the law take its course instead of giving them the chance to get out of their trouble.
    Since Bembo couldn’t very well take a bribe if Oraste wouldn’t, he grabbed Hestan by the arm and said, “Come along, you.” He’d intended to sound fierce. He suspected he sounded petulant instead.
    Hestan said, “I never thought I would wish anything ill on my brother, in spite of what his son did to my family. But now…” He shook his head. “Powers below eat him, and may they crunch his bones doing it.”
    “Aye, he’s a piece of work, all right,” Oraste agreed. “Somebody ought to give him a good kick in the bollocks.”
    The Forthwegian gave him a curious look. “You’re arresting me, but you sound like you hate him.”
    “Don’t let it worry you,” Bembo said. “Oraste hates everybody.” Oraste scowled but didn’t deny it; it was as near true as made no difference. Bembo felt that way himself a good deal of the time. It was an easy attitude for a constable to take. Constables saw the worst of people—when people were at their best, they didn’t need constables. And Algarvian constables in Gromheort not only saw the worst of people, they saw the worst of people who hated them as occupiers.
    “I haven’t really done anything, you know.” Hestan, somehow, still managed to sound mild and thoughtful. “Even if your superiors decide that everything my dear brother says is true—which it isn’t—I haven’t done anything much.”
    Bembo thought him likely to be right. But he said, “That’s for them to decide, not for us.”
    “Well, I can’t tell you what to do, that’s certain,” the Forthwegian said. “But wouldn’t you rather have the silver I end up paying stick in your belt pouches? Otherwise, it will just end up with people who have too much already.”
    That sort of argument made perfect sense to Bembo. He sent Oraste a look of appeal. Oraste said, “If Bembo here and me take you into that alley and beat you to death, you don’t pay anybody anything.”
    Hestan licked his lips. Some constables made threats like that to run up the price. Oraste meant his. Hestan had the sense to realize as much. He spoke carefully: “I’ve never harmed Algarve. The most I’ve tried to do is keep my family safe.” His laugh was bitter. “Look how well that worked out. One son dead, one vanished off the face of the earth.”
    “One son who’s a Kaunian-lover,” Oraste said. Odds were, he reckoned murder a lesser crime.
    But Bembo said, “Come here.” He drew Oraste aside, all the while eyeing Hestan to make sure he didn’t take off. He spoke in a low but urgent voice: “We can’t just kill this fellow. He’s a big blaze. There’d be riots, maybe. Our heads could roll. And he’s got the loot to pay his way free once we hand him over. Don’t you want some?”
    He didn’t usually have the nerve to argue with Oraste like that. Because he argued this time, his partner seemed more than usually impressed. “Oh, all right,” Oraste said gruffly. “But we’ll squeeze him till his eyes pop.”
    “Well, of course,” Bembo said. After that, it was just a matter of haggling over the price.
     
     

Two

     
     
    E very day the sun rose on Vanai, she thanked the powers above for one more day of life. After two Algarvian constables in Eoforwic seized her when the spell that let her look like a Forthwegian wore off before she could get back to her flat, she’d expected to be shipped west and slaughtered right away. The redheads saw the Kaunians of Forthweg as no more than a convenient source of life energy to fuel the sorceries they used to fight their evermore-desperate war against King Swemmel of Unkerlant.
    But all they’d done so far was throw her into the Kaunian quarter in Eoforwic. It was as if they were saying, We don’t need you in