Deoch snorted and gave me a disgusted look. “Come now lad, you’re smarter than that. You know what those places are like. And you know that a pretty girl with no family ends up being taken advantage of just as often as a whore, and paid less for her trouble.”
I flushed a bit at his rebuke, more than I would have normally, as I was feeling the wine. It was making my lips and the tips of my fingers a little numb.
Deoch filled our glasses again. “She’s not to be looked down on for moving where the wind blows her. She has to take her opportunities where she finds them. If she gets the chance to travel with some folk who like her singing, or with a merchant who hopes her pretty face will help him sell his wares, who’s to blame her for pulling up stakes and leaving town?
“And if she trades on her charm a bit, I’ll not look down on her because of it. Young gents court her, buy her presents, dresses, jewelry.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If she sells those things for money to live, there’s nothing wrong in that. They are gifts freely given, and hers to do with as she pleases.”
Deoch fixed me with a stare. “But what is she to do when some gent gets too familiar? Or gets angry at being denied what he considers bought and paid for? What recourse does she have? No family, no friends, no standing. No choice. None but to give herself over to him, all unwilling….” Deoch’s face was grim. “Or to leave. Leave quickly and find better weather. Is it any surprise then that she is harder to lay hands on than a windblown leaf?”
He shook his head, looking down at the table. “No, I do not envy her her life. Nor do I judge her.” His tirade seemed to have left him spent and slightly embarrassed. He didn’t look up at me as he spoke. “For all that, I would help her, if she would let me.” He glanced up at me and gave a chagrined smile. “But she’s not the sort to be beholden to anyone. Not one whit. Not a hairsbreadth.” He sighed and dribbled the last drops of the bottle evenly into our glasses.
“You’ve shown her to me in a new light,” I said honestly. “I’m ashamed I didn’t see it for myself.”
“Well, I’ve had a head start on you,” he said easily. “I’ve known her longer.”
“Nevertheless, I thank you,” I said holding up my glass.
He held up his own. “To Dyanae,” he said. “Most lovely.”
“To Denna, full of delight.”
“Young and unbending.”
“Bright and fair.”
“Ever sought, ever alone.”
“So wise and so foolish,” I said. “So merry and so sad.”
“Gods of my fathers,” Deoch said reverently. “Keep her always so: unchanging, past my understanding, and safe from harm.”
We both drank and set down our glasses.
“Let me buy the next bottle,” I said. It would tap out my slowly hoarded line of credit with the bar, but I found myself increasingly fond of Deoch and the thought of not standing my round with him was too galling to consider.
“Stream, stone, and sky,” he swore, rubbing at his face. “I dare not. Another bottle and we’d be slitting our wrists into the river before the sun goes down.”
I made a gesture to a serving girl. “Nonsense,” I said. “We’ll just change to something less maudlin than wine.”
I didn’t notice I was being followed when I returned to the University. Perhaps my head was so full of Denna that there was little room left for anything else. Perhaps I had been living civilized for so long that the hard-earned reflexes I’d picked up in Tarbean were starting to fade.
The blackberry brand probably had something to do with it as well. Deoch and I had talked for a long while, and between us drank half a bottle of the stuff. I had brought the remainder of the bottle back with me, as I knew Simmon had a taste for it.
Small matter why I didn’t notice them, I suppose. The result was the same. I was strolling down a poorly lit part of Newhall Lane when something blunt struck me on the back of the head and I was bundled off into a nearby alley, half-senseless.
I was only stunned for a moment, but by the time I had re-gathered my wits, I had a heavy hand clamped over my mouth.
“Alright, cully,” the huge man behind me spoke into my ear. “I’ve got a knife on you. You struggle, I stick you. That’s all there is to it.” I felt a gentle prod against my ribs under my left arm. “Check the finder,” he said to his companion.
A tall shape was all I could see in the dim light of the alley. He bowed his head, looking at his hand. “I can’t tell.”
“Light a match, then. We have to be sure.”
My anxiety began to blossom into full-blown panic. This wasn’t some simple back-alley coshing. They hadn’t even checked my pockets for money. This was something else.
“We know it’s him,” the tall one said impatiently. “Let’s just do this and have it over with. I’m cold.”
“Like hell. Check it now, while he’s close. We’ve lost him twice already. I’m not having another cock-up like in Anilin.”
“I hate this thing,” the tall man said as he went through his pockets, presumably looking for a match.
“You’re an idiot,” the one behind me said. “It’s cleaner this way. Simpler. No confusing descriptions. No names. No worrying about disguises. Follow the needle, find our man, and have done with it.”
The matter-of-fact tone of their voices terrified me. These men were professionals. I realized with sudden certainty that Ambrose had finally taken steps to ensure I would never bother him again.
My mind raced for a moment, and I did the only thing I could think of: I dropped the half-full bottle of brand. It shattered on the cobblestones and the night air was suddenly filled with the smell of blackberries.
“That’s great,” the tall man hissed. “How about you let him ring a bell while you’re at it?”
The man behind me tightened his grip on my neck and shook me hard, just once. The same way you would do to a naughty puppy. “None of that,” he said, irritated.
I went limp, hoping to lull him, then concentrated and muttered a binding against the man’s thick hand.
“Tough tits,” the man replied. “If you stepped in glass it’s your own damn faaaaaah!” He let out a startled shout as the pool of brand around our feet caught fire.
I took advantage of his momentary distraction and twisted away from him. But I wasn’t quite quick enough. His knife tore a bright line of pain across my ribs as I pulled away and began pelting down the alley.
But my flight was short-lived. The alley dead-ended against a sheer brick wall. There were no doors, no windows, nothing to hide behind or use to get a leg up on the wall. I was trapped.
I turned to see the two men blocking the mouth of the alley. The large one was stamping his leg furiously, trying to extinguish it.