‘Your name?’
‘Murillio.’
She nodded as if she’d already guessed. ‘And you’re here because you want to teach. If you’d taken up teaching when Carpala was still alive-’
‘He would have hunted me down and killed me, yes. He despised schools, in fact, he despised duelling. He once said teaching the rapier was like putting a poisonous snake into a child’s hand. He drew no pleasure from instruction and was not at all surprised when very nearly every one of his prize students either got themselves killed or wasted away as drunkards or worse.’
‘You did neither.’
‘No, that’s true. I chased women.’
‘Only now they’re too fast for you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I am Stonny Menackis. This school exists to make me rich, and yes, it’s work” ing. Tell me, will you be sharing your old master’s hatred of teaching?’
‘Not as vehemently, I imagine. I don’t expect to take any pleasure in it, but I will do what’s needed.’
‘Footwork.’
He nodded. ‘Footwork. The art of running away. And forms, the defensive cage, since that will keep them alive. Stop-hits to the wrist, knee, foot.’
‘Non-lethal’
‘Yes.’
She sighed and straightened. ‘All right. Assuming I can afford you.’
‘I’m sure you can.’
She shot him a quizzical glance, and then added, ‘Don’t think about chasing me, by the way.’
‘I am finished with all that, or, rather, it’s finished with me.’
‘Good-’
br />
‘Your name?’
‘Murillio.’
She nodded as if she’d already guessed. ‘And you’re here because you want to teach. If you’d taken up teaching when Carpala was still alive-’
‘He would have hunted me down and killed me, yes. He despised schools, in fact, he despised duelling. He once said teaching the rapier was like putting a poisonous snake into a child’s hand. He drew no pleasure from instruction and was not at all surprised when very nearly every one of his prize students either got themselves killed or wasted away as drunkards or worse.’
‘You did neither.’
‘No, that’s true. I chased women.’
‘Only now they’re too fast for you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I am Stonny Menackis. This school exists to make me rich, and yes, it’s work” ing. Tell me, will you be sharing your old master’s hatred of teaching?’
‘Not as vehemently, I imagine. I don’t expect to take any pleasure in it, but I will do what’s needed.’
‘Footwork.’
He nodded. ‘Footwork. The art of running away. And forms, the defensive cage, since that will keep them alive. Stop-hits to the wrist, knee, foot.’
‘Non-lethal’
‘Yes.’
She sighed and straightened. ‘All right. Assuming I can afford you.’
‘I’m sure you can.’
She shot him a quizzical glance, and then added, ‘Don’t think about chasing me, by the way.’
‘I am finished with all that, or, rather, it’s finished with me.’
‘Good-’
At this moment they both noticed that an old woman had come up to them. Stonny’s voice was suddenly… different, as she said, ‘Myrla. What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been looking for Gruntle-’
‘That fool went off with the Trygalle-I warned him and now he’s going to get himself killed for no good reason!’
‘Oh. It’s Harllo, you see…’
‘What about him?’ The old woman was flinching at everything Stormy said and Murillio suspected he would have done the same in the face of such a tone. ‘He’s gone missing.’
‘What? For how long?’
‘Snell Naid he saw him, two days back. Down at the docks. He’s never not come home at day’s end-he’s only five-’
’Two days!’
Murillio saw that Stonny’s face had gone white as death and a sudden terror was growing in her eyes. Two days!’
‘Sncll says-’
‘You stupid woman-Snell is a liar! A damned thief!’
Myrla stepped back under the onslaught. ‘He gave us the coin you brought-’
‘After I nearly had to strangle him, yes! What’s Snell done to Harllo? What’s he done!’
Myrla was weeping now, wringing her arthritic hands. ‘Said he done nothing, Stonny-’
‘A moment,’ cut in Murillio, physically stepping between the two women as he saw Stonny about to move forward, gloved hand lifting. ‘A child’s gone missing? I can put out the word-I know all sorts of people. Please, we can do this logically-down at the docks, you said? We’ll need to find out which ships left harbour in the last two days-the trading season’s only just starting, so there shouldn’t be many. His name is Harllo, and he’s five years old-’ Gods below, you send him out into the streets and he’s only five! ‘Can you give me a description? Hair, eyes, the like.’
Myrla was nodding, even as tears streamed down her lined cheeks and her entire body trembled. She nodded and kept on nodding.
Stonny spun round and rushed away, boots echoing harshly down the corridor.
Murillio stared after her in astonishment. ‘Where-what?’
‘It’s her son, you see,’ said Myrla between sobs. ‘Her only son, only she don’t want him and so he’s with us but Snell he has bad thoughts and does bad things sometimes only not this, never this bad, he wouldn’t do anything this bad to Harllo, he wouldn’t!’
‘We’ll find him,’ said Murillio. One way or the other, Lady’s pull bless us, and bless the lad. ‘Now, please, describe him and describe him well-what he normally does each day-I need to know that, too. Everything you can tell me, Myrla. Everything.’
Snell understood, in a dim but accurate way, how others, wishing only the best in him, could have their faith abused at will, and even should some truth be dragged into the light, well, it was then a matter of displaying crushed self-pity, and the great defender would take him into her arms-as mothers do.