“And so?” Parno asked when the wife fell silent.
“And so,” Grenwen Finder said, “the child choked on a bit of fruit she’d had in her pocket, and by the time they came to me to Find her she was long dead. The Fishers didn’t blame me-at least not then. How could they? I knew nothing of it ’fore they sent for me.” The Finder pressed his lips together before continuing. “I Found the body.”
“They didn’t blame us then, as you say,” Mirandeth said. “But it wasn’t more than two moons later that Mistress Fisher didn’t return my greeting in the market, and the stall holder told me that the Fishers were saying Grenwen hadn’t really tried to Find the poor child until it was too late.”
“Grief does strange things to people,” Dhulyn said. The daughter came out of the kitchen area carrying a round wooden tray with two glasses and two clay mugs. The way she handed the tray to the Mercenaries made it clear they were meant to take the more expensive glasses. Dhulyn breathed in the rich scent of ganje. She could use a stimulant, she thought, and so could the Finders. “They’ll blame themselves most of all, you see,” she told them. “It’s a hard day when an act of sensible discipline has the bad luck to result in such a tragedy, but they’d go mad if they blame themselves. Easier to blame you.”
“But to set fire to my home?”
“The Fishers didn’t fire the house, and you know it.” Mirandeth put her mug down on the table. “At least not by themselves.”
“Who then?” Parno said. “The Watch will want to know.”
“The Watch? What point in telling the Watch? Where was the Watch when my own neighbors…” Mirandeth took a deep, steadying breath before going on. “You hear things, and you think ‘well, away in Imrion, anything can happen.’ But when my own friends and neighbors set fire to my house with my children inside. No,” she turned to her husband, “you know who put the idea into Mistress Fisher’s head that you were to blame for poor little Jolda, and who made sure the Watch knew nothing about the fire.”
“Tell us, then, and we’ll all know,” said Dhulyn.
The husband and wife exchanged a look that was equal parts fear and determination. Finally, the Finder nodded.
“This has all been since the New Believers came out of Imrion last year, spreading their teachings. Did anyone see? Was there a Jaldean in the crowd?” he said.
Dhulyn was sure only she noticed the muscles in Parno’s forearms twitch. His lips parted, but he closed them without saying a word.
“There was,” Dhulyn said when it was clear Parno would not speak. “But what do the priests of the Sleeping God have to do with this?”
“Everything,” Mirandeth said, nodding. “The New Believers have been preaching against the Marked for months now, and after the earthquake last summer, and the bad harvest…
Dhulyn nodded, considering. The Marked had always made certain people nervous-those who were afraid of what they didn’t understand and couldn’t do themselves. In bad times, foolish talk in taverns wasn’t unusual. But since when would sober, reasonable, law-abiding citizens turn against someone who could Heal or Find or Mend?
“What’s different now?” she asked. “We’ve heard nothing of this, we’ve been away in the west, beyond Semlor, training with the armies of the Great King. The world’s a different place out there.”
“The world’s a different place right here, Dhulyn Wolfshead, let me tell you.” Mirandeth pressed her lips together and turned her head to the side, blinking.
“It seems it started,” the Finder took up the tale, patting his wife on her hand, “when the Jaldeans found a new artifact of the Sleeping God. I don’t know that anyone thought much of it. I certainly did not. They’ve found these things in the past, and for a while it makes people think a bit, reminds them the old gods are still with us, don’t you know, for all that many are heeding the teachings coming from the west.” The man swung his head from side to side. “When I first heard, I thought it a way to help the Jaldeans recruit more monks, to be honest. No harm in it.”
“Then they started calling themselves the New Believers,” Mirandeth said. “Started preaching on street corners instead of keeping to themselves in their hermitages and shrines in the old way. They came predicting danger and giving warning.”
Dhulyn raised her eyebrows. There was a way to catch the attention, no doubt about it. But Mirandeth hadn’t finished.
“They say the Marked are trying to awaken the Sleeping God before his time, and he’ll destroy the world.”
Parno fell back into his chair, his movement causing the ganje in his glass to slop out onto his knee. He didn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t understand,” Dhulyn said. “Wouldn’t the Marked be destroying themselves then?” None of the religions of townsfolk made any sense to her. There were three or four different sects that, as far as she could tell, called the same gods by different names-and she had respect for them all as often providing excellent reasons for war.
This time it was Parno who answered her. “The Marked have always been thought to have a special connection with the Sleeping God, maybe that’s supposed to save them.” He shook his head, “But-the Sleeping God’s supposed to awaken, and come to our aid if he’s needed. As indeed he’s done in the past, according to the Jaldeans themselves.”
“According to the Old Believers, yes,” Grenwen Finder said.“But now that’s all accounted heresy, and it’s more than your life is worth to say so in public, whatever you might think to yourself in the safety of your own home.”
The silence that fell lasted so long the Finders’ daughter came to the door of the back room where she’d been distracting her brothers. Dhulyn knew what they were all thinking. The Finders’ home had not turned out to be so very safe.
“Even so easily can people be turned against each other,” she said.
“But they aren’t…” Parno’s voice trailed away, whatever argument he was marshaling collapsing unspoken.
“People believe what bad harvests and earthquakes tell them to believe,” Dhulyn pointed out.
“They’ll allow as how we might be innocent enough by intent,” Grenwen said. “At least some will. But that changes nothing. Somehow we’ve perverted the gifts the god gave us, and our actions are awakening him.”
“So why did that man say you should go to the shrine?” Dhulyn asked.
“We’re supposed to go and be blessed by the Jaldeans, any of us who wish to keep our homes and livelihoods.”
“Willam Healer went, and no one’s seen him since,” Mirandeth said. “His family have sold off everything and disappeared, though I heard they have kin in Voyagin.”
Grenwen’s nod was slow and heavy. “I often helped him with his cases, Finding bad growths and infections for him, but now… I think Willam was one of the lucky ones. Of the few who’ve returned to their families, they’re no longer…” the man swallowed, “they aren’t Marked any longer.”
Dhulyn thought of the blank faces she’d seen in the square.
“That’s why the Watch didn’t come,” she said.
The Finder nodded. “I’ll lodge a complaint, of course. And they’ll listen to me, for now, even if they do nothing. There’s still plenty that don’t hold by the new beliefs. But many of them are starting to look the other way. It’s only a matter of time, until they’ll do more than that.” He blinked slowly, his brow furrowed as if an idea had just come to him. “I was contracted to Find a new salt deposit before winter set in, and the project was postponed. It’s past the time I should have heard, but surely they wouldn’t-” he looked up at the Mercenaries. “The good of the town…”
Dhulyn glanced at Parno and looked away. Surely they would, and both she and her Partner knew it. Common sense and the good of the town flew out the window when what a god wanted came in the door.
“And Zendra Mender’s gone-took ship for Berdana last week before the port closed to us-so you won’t be inspecting the aqueduct together as you always did. It wasn’t so bad before the Marked started coming here from Imrion, drawing attention to us-and I can’t believe I just said that.” Mirandeth covered her eyes with her hands. “We’re all Marked, there’s no Imrion and no Navra in this.” She let her hands fall to her lap. “But it does mean the Prince has closed the port to us, as a favor to Imrion. The last of many favors.” Her hand went up to touch her dark green headdress.