Sins of the Mother
CHAPTER ONE
HOMECOMING
Every morning before opening the tavern master inspected the place, starting with the common room and bar where most of their business was done. Becca, a bosomy woman with a tiny waist and boyish hips, standing just half past five feet tall, strictly maintained the high standards that were responsible for the Cock and Boar's growing reputation. A triangle of black silk scarf held her chestnut hair back. A narrow sleeved, wide-cuffed scarlet shirt covered her high ample breasts, tucked into the wide waistband of black trousers that fit tight in the seat and loose in the legs, ending in a pair of practical low-heeled black boots. Her hips swayed coquettishly when she moved, more out of habit than advertising though she had done a fair bit of that in less prosperous times, turning tricks to make ends meet. Until late last summer she had worn dresses like the rest of the women in Vorgensburg, but after getting into an "anything you can do, I can do better" match with one of the two female owners of the Cock and Boar, which involved unloading a wagon load of supplies, she had been forced to admit the practicality of pants, bought her first pair and discovered she liked them. Now there were no dresses in her entire wardrobe. Giving away her dresses, many of them beautiful and expensive — purchased since the upturn in her fortunes — had brought an odd pleasure: For much of her life she had been the recipient of hand-me-downs, now, for the first time in her life, Becca had done the handing, taking them down to the poor quarter and it felt good. She would have given them to the household servants, but the majority of them had followed her into pants as a way of setting themselves apart as members of Aejys Rowan's household.
Zacham, the scullery boy, his wealth of shiny black hair tousled and mixed with straw from sleeping in the stable loft, shoved a push-broom with a handle that was longer than he was tall through the common room past Becca. The tables and chairs stood stacked in the corners to allow this daily cleaning. One of the adults would come through later with a mop, which Zacham was not yet strong enough to manage. The Cock and Boar, the cleanest establishment near the wharves, attracted as many traders and mid-level merchants as they did sailors, which had not always been the case; it had only been since Aejys Rowan and Tagalong Smith purchased it that the Cock and Boar stopped being a cheap dive and became a first rate tavern. And, since last spring, when Aejys lured away the Duke of Beltria's best pastry chef, it had begun to get the occasional wealthy merchant and guild master with a sweet tooth.
Becca nodded at Zacham, appraising his efforts and finding them adequate. He flashed her a grin, then ducked his head in the self-conscious way some children had simply because he did not know what else to do. She had just started toward the kitchens, the Cock and Boar would be opening for breakfast soon and the regulars would be pounding on the doors if she did not get them open on time, when a flash of blue light erupted in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
"What in Nine Hells!" Her hand dropped to her pocket where the ends of a sling dangled above a handful of smooth stones. She wore a dagger at her waist and, although she had had some recent training, her instinctual reaction was still to reach for her sling. It was the only weapon she had known since childhood and felt entirely comfortable with. She always had a pocketful of her lucky river stones.
The blue light faded, leaving two people huddling in the middle of the floor in front of her: a mon cradling a bloody, grievously wounded nude mon in his arms. Becca was already moving before the mon's face registered in her mind and she recognized Josh's deeply seamed, weatherworn face and abraded complexion framed by a heavy, gray-streaked, brown beard. Becca went to her knees beside him, searching his face for clues to what had happened and who the mon was.
"Help her," Josh said, his voice strained with weeping. "Please, Becca."
"Of course." The tavern master brushed back the long tangle of sweat-drenched, blood-crusted hair from the mon's battered face and a scream rose in her throat before she could stop it. "Oh My Gods! Aejys!"
Zacham dropped the broom with a clatter, racing to her side. The scullery boy crouched at her elbow, staring through the crook of her arm. "Ohhhhh."
Becca glanced at Zacham and bent forward, trying to block his view of Aejys by covering their liege-lord with her body and elbowed the boy back. "Get away, Zacham. You don't need to see this."
The kitchen staff poured into the common room, clustering about them. An irritating cacophony of shocked questions rose around Becca. "Get out, all of you!" Becca shouted before she thought, then recovered enough to start issuing orders, "Zacham, Molly, wait. And Ash. The rest of you get back to work. Zacham, roust Omer and Raim. I'll need them to help get her upstairs. Ash get the healer fast. Molly, fetch a sheet and a blanket. We'll wrap her in the sheet first so no fibers from the blanket get in her wounds."
As she straightened, a soft sob just behind Becca's shoulder, caused the tavern master to swivel on her knees. A small girl of seven stood there — obviously frightened — worried tears running down her round cheeks.
"She'll be all right, Sami," Becca said, not really certain of anything. "Get hold of yourself. Go sit out front and tell the regulars we'll be opening a bit late, to be patient. But don't tell them why. This is very important. Don't tell them why. Just say 'opening late' nothing more. Can you do it?"
The little girl wiped her tears away with the back of a grubby hand, nodding.
"Good." Giving them things to do would keep down their talk and brooding on what they had just seen.
As they departed, Becca turned to Josh. "What happened? Where are the others?"
"Rowanslea," Josh said, adding quickly. "They're okay." The sot reeked of whiskey, a nasty sour smell: He had consumed so much that it was sweating through his pores.
"That's something," Becca muttered. "Who did this? How did it happen?"
"Margren."
"Her sister?"
Josh nodded. "Talk later, Becca. I don't feel so good." Strain from the incredible Jump and reaction had set in; he felt dizzy and sick.
Becca caught Josh as the sot collapsed, lowering him gently to the common room floor to lie beside Aejys. She checked him for wounds and, finding none, wrote his unconsciousness off to the alcohol. Molly reappeared and together they carefully wrapped Aejys in the sheet to protect her wounds and then the blanket to keep her warm.
Molly was a small middle-aged mon who wore her golden, curly hair caught at the back of her head with a bit of cheap red ribbon. She had warm brown eyes thickly lashed. Her small, delicate mouth was twisted tight with worry and concern. A soldier's widow, she had spent years following her husband on campaigns, serving as nurse, cook, and general forager for the company. When her husband died, the commander felt that it was improper for her to continue with them, took up a collection from the men, and sent her away. It was the blood, gore, and ugliness she had seen during those years of endless marching that caused her to say what Becca was afraid to, "She's been tortured. Get someone to build up the fire in her rooms. I'll need some warm water and soft cloths. The least we can do before the healer gets here is to start bathing some of the blood off so he can see what is hurt and what isn't."
Becca felt grateful to be able to put Molly in charge. Although the tavern-master had seen her share of brawls, she had never seen anything as ugly and upsetting as this.
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