He’d waited on the dock for at least two hours. At first he caught brisk orders filtering through the walls from the inside, then magic had brushed against him. Now all was quiet. He couldn’t tell if the gray man had survived. William hoped he had. The gray man had children, and children had to have fathers.
He had no father. He’d never find him, even if he wanted to look for him, which he didn’t. At Hawk’s some changelings had talked about finding their parents. William saw no point in it. Why? When he was twelve, he’d broken into the archive at the academy and read the records. His father hadn’t stuck around to see him born. His mother gave him up as soon as she was strong enough to walk after giving birth. That was the Adrianglian No Questions policy. If a woman had a changeling child, she could give her baby up, no questions asked. The state would assume responsibility for the kid. They would stick him into Hawk’s and grow him into a monster.
He’d been whipped for breaking in. It was worth it. Before he’d wondered if he had a family. Afterward he knew. Nobody wanted him. Nobody was waiting for him. He was alone.
Steps approached. William straightened. The door swung open, and Urow’s wife came out and leaned on the rail next to him.
Up close she wasn’t as pretty as the picture made her out to be. Her skin stretched too tightly over her sharp features and bony face. She reminded him of a haggard fox, driven crazy by her pups.
Cerise was much prettier.
“I was short with you back there,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be.”
“Will your husband make it?”
“The worst has passed. He is sleeping now. The swelling has dropped and we took the tube out.”
“That’s good,” William said to say something.
Urow’s wife swallowed. “Cerise said you saved my husband. Our family owes you a debt.”
What was she going on about . . . The rope, William remembered. “I shot at the rope and happened to hit it. No debt.”
The woman straightened. A spark of pride flared in her eyes. “Yes, we do. And we always pay our debts. You’re called William?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Clara. I’m going to return the favor, William. In the morning, we’ll get our fastest rolpie and our best boat, and my sons will take you back to town.”
“I can’t do that.”
She nodded. “Yes, Cerise said you’re invited to the main house. Don’t go.”
Now that was interesting. “Why not?”
Clara sighed. “Cerise is a beautiful girl. Woman, I should say, she is twenty-four now. Striking. But you have to understand something about Cerise: she is a Mar. Mars are loyal to the family first.”
“You’re a Mar.”
She nodded. “Yes. And I’m loyal to the family. They treat my husband as if he’s one of them. It’s not every clan that will take in a half-thoas bastard. They treat my children well, too.”
Her gaze flicked to the base of the tree, where one of her sons climbed out of the water to sit on the roots. “My problems with the Mars are complicated. You don’t need to know them. If you go to the Rathole, there will be no turning back, William. We have our own law here in the Mire. We do a lousy job of enforcing it, but we manage better than other places in the Edge, from what I’ve heard. You aren’t one of us. Your clothes are good, and you hold yourself like you aren’t from around here. The Mire law won’t shield you. You go to the Rathole, and if you step an inch out of line, Cerise or one of her cousins will cut your throat with a pretty knife and bury you in the mud. They won’t lose any sleep over it. You seem like a decent man. Walk away. It’s about to get real bloody down there between the Mars and the Sheeriles, and it’s not your fight.”
She was wrong. It was his fight. Until William figured out how Cerise’s parents were connected to the Hand, he had to stick to her like glue. He wouldn’t leave her now anyway. Not after he’d seen the way she fought. But he wasn’t about to explain that to anyone.
“Thanks for the warning,” he told her.
She shook her head. “You’re a fool. Cerise will never fall for an outsider.”
“I don’t expect her to fall,” he said.
Clara slumped over the rail. “Well, I’ve tried.”
“Why are you with Urow?” William asked.
She looked up and he saw warmth in her eyes. “You could get shot for a question like that.”
With what? “I don’t see any rifles.”
“You’re an odd man, William.”
She didn’t know the half of it.
“Why do you want to know?” Clara asked.
He saw no point in lying. “Because he has someone and I don’t.”
Another of Urow’s kids dropped from the branches, swam across the pond, and sat next to his brother. That, plus the youngest one inside, made three. They’d all gathered around him to protect him. His own pack.
Clara sighed. “I’ve had men before him. Some were nice, some were bastards. But when I’m with him, he treats me like I’m his world. I know that no matter what happens, he will do all he can to keep me and the kids safe. His all might not be enough, but no matter how bad it gets, he will never run off and leave me to pick up the pieces. He will never hurt me.”
There had to be more to it than that. “And is that enough?”
She smiled. “That’s more than most people have. They’re alone in the world, but I’m not. When I lay in his arms at night, there is no safer place. Besides, what would that big lug do without me? I let him go away for four days by himself, and he gets himself shot.”
The smile drained from her face.
She’d thought of something bad. William focused on her face. “What is it?”
“If you’re bound and determined to go down to the Rathole, you need to know this: thoas aren’t common to the Mire. Someone told those men my husband was meeting Cerise down by Sicktree. Someone who knew what copper does to a thoas.”
A traitor, William realized. She was trying to tell him there was a traitor in Cerise’s family.
“She will go down there and start a witch hunt. Don’t let yourself get caught up in it. Don’t let yourself be used. Let my kids take you back to town. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose.”
Cerise walked out on the dock.
Clara’s face shut down. “Are you leaving?”