She gave a helpless laugh. ‘I don’t know, Tom Badgerlock. But telling Hap this is all your fault is certainly something you should not do.’ She lifted up the cat and set him back on the floor. ‘However, there is something I should do as well.’ She went into her bedroom. A few moments later, she came back with a purse. She held it out to me. When I didn’t move to take it, she shook it at me. Take it. This is the coin I haven’t spent on Hap’s keep. I’m giving it back to you. Tonight, when he comes back, I’m telling him I’m turning him out of my house, because I don’t want trouble to come calling at my door.’ She laughed at the look on my face. ‘It’s called a consequence. Tom. Hap should feel more of them. And when he comes moaning to you, I think you should let him deal with it on his own.
I thought of the last conversation we’d had. ‘I doubt that he’ll come moaning to me,’ I said sombrely.
‘All the better,’ she said tartly. ‘Let him handle it himself. He’s used to sleeping indoors. It won’t take him long to realize that he’d best settle himself in at the apprentices’ hall. And I think you might be wise enough to leave it up to him to have to ask Master Gindast to let him.’ The cat had reinstated himself on her lap. She shook out her knitting over him and tugged more yarn free. It slid through Fennel’s lazy clasp.
I winced at the thought of how much pride Hap was going to have to swallow. A moment later, I felt an odd sense of relief. Hap could do that for himself. I didn’t have to humble myself on his behalf. I think she saw it on my face.
‘Not every problem in the world belongs to you alone, Badgerlock. Let others have their share.’
I thought about it for a time longer. Then I said gratefully, ‘Jinna, you’re a true friend.’
She gave me a sideways look. ‘So. You’ve worked that out, have you?’
I winced at her tone, but nodded. ‘You’re a true friend. But you’re still angry at how I’ve behaved.’
She nodded as if to herself. ‘And some problems do belong to you, Tom Badgerlock. Entirely.’ She stared at me expectantly.
I took a breath and steeled myself to it. I’d lie as little as possible, I comforted myself. It was thin comfort.
‘That woman, in the Stuck Pig that night. Well, we aren’t… that is, she is just a friend. I don’t bed with her.’ The words clattered awkwardly out of me like dropped crockery, and lay between us, all sharp shards.
A long silence followed. Jinna looked at me, then into the fire, and then back at me, Tiny glints of anger and hurt still danced in her eyes, but a very tiny smile played around the corners of her lips as well. ‘I see. Well, that is good to know, I suppose. And now you have two friends that you don’t bed with.’
Her meaning was unmistakeable. That comfort would not be offered to me tonight, and perhaps never again. I will not pretend I didn’t feel disappointment. But there was relief as well. Had it been offered, I would have had to refuse it. I’d already been through the consequences of refusing a woman once tonight. I nodded slowly to her words.
‘The water in the kettle is hot,’ she pointed out. ‘If you wanted to stay, you could make tea for us.’ It was not forgiveness. It was a second chance to be friends. I was happy to accept it. I got up to find the pot and cups.
THIRTEEN
Challenges
Now this is the way it must be for the ones who construct the maps and charts. A map of land must be made from the hide of a land beast, and it should show no more than can be helped of the sea. A chart can only be drawn on a seacreature’s hide, and though land must be marked on it, it is sin to show the features of that land on a chart that is devoted to the sea. To do otherwise is to offend the god who made the world as it is.
Our islands are as the god made them. Thus he wrote on the seas of the world, long ago. They are his runes, and so when they are drawn within the chart of the great seas, they must be drawn in the blood of a land beast. And if you would make a mark for good harbour or plentiful fish or hidden shoals or another feature that belongs to the seas, these marks must be made with the blood of a sea creature. For this is how the god made the world, and who is a man to try to draw it otherwise?
Our islands are the runes of the god. Not all is made clear to us, for we are but men and it is not for us to know every rune the god can write, nor what it is he has spelled across the face of the sea. Some islands he cloaks in ice from us, and this we are to respect. Draw then the ice that cloaks the rune, and this must be drain in the blood of a creature of that ice, but not one that flies. The blood of a seal is good for this, but the blood of a white bear best of all.
If one wishes to draw the sky’s face, then is the time to use the blood of a bird for ink, and draw but lightly on the skin of a gull.
These are very old laws. Every woman with a good mother knows them already. I write them down only because our sons’ sons and their offspring are grown foolish and unwary of the god’s will. They will bring disaster on us all if we do not remind them that we have been taught better, and that these laws are from the god’s own lips.
— The Making of Guides — Chade Fallstar’s translation of an Out Island scroll
I was relieved to be on better terms with Jinna again. We spent no time in her bed that night, nor did I kiss her goodbye. But both those things were a relief to my mind if not to my clamouring body When I left her that night, I resolved to treat our patched friendship gently and to keep it within bounds I felt I could deal with. I think she still felt this was untrusting on my part, but, so I have ever been At least, so Chade has often told me.
There followed a trying three days for me. The rest of my life remained unsettled. I didn’t hear from Hap. I dreaded that my lad was sleeping out in the snow somewhere, even as I disgustedly told myself he was a sharper boy than that. The Queen and Chade were meeting daily with the leaders of the Six Duchies, in deep discussion about Bingtown’s offer of an alliance. They did not summon me to share their thoughts. The Bingtown delegation was very visible within Buckkeep Castle, assiduously courting the individual dukes and duchesses with gifts and attentions of every kind. On our part, the banquets and entertainment proceeded with an eye to soothing the ruffled feelings of the Outislanders and to being gracious to our Bingtown guests. The success of those evenings was mixed. Strangely enough, Arkon Bloodblade and his Out Island traders seemed fascinated with the Bingtown folk, and openly talked with them about expanding trade alliances based on the betrothal between Prince Dutiful and their Narcheska. Yet both Elliania and Peottre Blackwater were largely absent from the festivities. On the few occasions when Elliania did make an appearance, she was grave and quiet. Both the Narcheska and Peottre carefully avoided the Bingtown Traders in every way that they could. She exhibited a marked aversion to the scaled boy, Selden Vestrit of the Rain Wild Traders. Once I saw her physically recoil as he walked past her. But I was not certain that it was her choice, for afterwards she sat very stiff in her chair while the beads of sweat broke out on her brow. It was not long after that both she and Peottre excused themselves from attending a puppet play on the grounds that the Narcheska was weary and Peottre must attend to their packing. This was a scarcely-veiled reminder of the imminent departure of the Out Island contingent. The Bingtown Traders and their offer could hardly have arrived at a worse time for us.
‘A week later, and they would have been gone when the Bingtown town folk arrived. Yes, and I don’t doubt that we could have mended the Prince’s little stumble with the Narcheska, and sent them off happy. Now it appears that we stack our refusal to break off talk with Bingtown on top of the Prince’s slighting of the Narcheska. It throws everything into doubt.’