Point of Knives by Melissa Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

Denizard closing the door firmly behind her. Eslingen took a breath. “I have an explanation,” he said, “but I wouldn’t call it good.”
    “Go on.”
    “Old Steen’s dead,” Eslingen said bluntly. “And his aged father murdered, too.” He ran through the events of the previous night and their aftermath, finishing with Young Steen’s offer. Caiazzo stared at him for a long moment, and Eslingen fought back the temptation to elaborate. That was one of Caiazzo’s favorite tricks, luring you into saying more than you’d meant, and he refused to fall victim.
    “So you’ve been at Point of Hopes all this time,” Caiazzo said at last.
    “Yes.”
    “What does Rathe say about the woman?”
    “He doesn’t believe she’s his wife,” Eslingen answered. “I don’t think the Chief Point does, either, but the marriage lines look good.”
    “Oh, Bonfortune.” Caiazzo slanted a reproachful glance at the altar hanging on the side wall, where a bright bundle of autumn flowers lay beneath the feet of the merchant-venturers’ god, then slid from his stool. Standing, he was smaller than one might expect, a neat dark man, unobtrusively well dressed, with eyes that looked almost black in the morning light. Only the small scar at the corner of his mouth betrayed that he was more dangerous than he seemed. “Aice, I’ll want my advocates on this straightaway. Have Lunele place a claim against the estate, that should tie things up for a bit.”
    Denizard nodded. “Do we have a claim?”
    “Does it matter? She can find one, I’m sure.” Caiazzo didn’t wait for her answer, but reached for a pen and a clean sheet of paper. “As for you, Philip…. This is a note for the chief at Point of Hopes, what’s her name—”
    “Monteia,” Eslingen said.
    “Right, Monteia, stating that I’m making a claim, and that she’ll be in receipt of a proper writ within the day.” Caiazzo wrote busily for a few moments, the pen loud in the silence, then dusted the sheet with sand to dry the ink. “But your main business—I know you’re still friends with Nicolas Rathe, and I’m pleased that you’ve not made it an issue for me. And now I’m sending you to help him in any way you can. And make sure I get the gold I’ve contracted for.”
    Eslingen opened his mouth, and closed it again, knowing that protest was futile. He knew exactly what Caiazzo meant by “helping,” and he’d be damned before he’d cheat Rathe that way—but to say it outright was to lose his place, with winter coming on and no money saved to tide him over until he found other work. Not that there was much demand for soldiers in Astreiant in the first place, and that brought him back to the dilemma that had kept him here since midsummer.
    “Very well,” he said. “And what about my usual duties?”
    Caiazzo smiled. “I took care of myself long enough, Philip. And Aice can mind the rest.”
    The magist looked both fond and exasperated at that, but said nothing. Caiazzo folded the note and handed it to Eslingen. “I’m sure Rathe will be glad of your help,” he said, with a twist of a smile that wasn’t quite a smirk. “But mostly—get the gold.”
    “Yes, sir,” Eslingen said, and turned away.
     
    As Monteia had predicted, van Duiren returned within the hour to demand Old Steen’s effects. Rathe made himself scarce while the Chief Point handed them over, and Lennar, coming to say the coast was clear, reported that the woman had been in a rare temper, though at least she’d had the sense not to turn it on Monteia.
    “Because the Chief was a hair’s breadth from telling her to get a judge’s ruling on the matter,” Lennar said. “And that would have spoiled her game.”
    Rathe nodded, and checked as he saw the figure ahead of him in the station’s main room. For a craven instant, he thought about walking away before he got himself in any deeper, but Eslingen was already up to his neck in the matter. There would be no avoiding him, no