Читаем Nightside the Long Sun полностью

“Well, I’m not the richest,” Blood declared, “and I’m not the crookedest either. There are richer men than I am, and crookeder men than I am, lots of them. And, Patera, most of them aren’t anywhere near as close to the Ayuntamiento as I am. That’s something to keep in mind, whether you think so or not.”

Silk did not reply, or even indicate by any alteration of his expression that he had heard.

“So if you want your manteion back, why shouldn’t you get it from them? The price is twenty-six thousand, like I told you. That’s all it means to me, so they’ve got it just as much as I have, and they’ll be easier, most of them. Are you listening to me, Patera?”

Reluctantly, Silk nodded.

Musk opened the door as he had before and preceded the footman into the room. This time there were two tumblers on the footman’s tray.

Blood accepted one, and the footman bowed to Silk. “Patera Silk?”

Everyone in the household must know of his capture by now, Silk reflected; apparently everyone knew who he was as well. “Yes,” he said; it would be pointless to deny it.

With something in his expression Silk could not fathom, the footman bowed deeply and held out his tray. “I took the liberty, Patera. Musk said I might. If you would accept it as a favor to me…?”

Silk took the drink, smiled, and said, “Thank you, my son. That was extremely kind of you.” For an instant the footman looked radiant.

“If you’re grabbed,” Blood continued when the footman had gone, “I don’t know you. I’ve never laid eyes on you, and I’d never suggest anything like this to anybody. That’s the way it’s got to be.”

“Of course. But now, tonight, you’re suggesting that I steal enough money to buy my manteion from you. That I, an augur, enter these other men’s houses to steal, as I entered yours.”

Blood sipped his drink. “I’m saying that if you want your manteion back, I’ll sell it to you, and that’s all I’m saying. How you get the money is up to you. You think the city asked where I got the price?”

“It is a workable solution,” Silk admitted, “and it’s the only one that has been proposed so far.”

Musk grinned at him.

“Your resident physician tells me that my right ankle is broken,” Silk continued. “It will be quite some time, I’m afraid, before it heals.”

Blood looked up from his drink. “I can’t allow you a whole lot of time, Patera. A little time, enough for a few jobs. But that’s all.”

“I see.” Silk stroked his cheek. “But you’ll allow me some—you’ll have to. During the time you will allow, what will become of my manteion?”

“It’s my manteion, Patera. You run it just like you did before, how’s that? Only you tell anybody that wants to know that I own the property. It’s mine, and you tell them so.”

“I could say you’ve paid our taxes,” Silk suggested, “as you have. And that you’re letting us continue to serve the gods as an act of piety.” It was a lie he hoped might eventually become the truth.

“That’s good. But anything you take in over expenses is mine, and anytime I want to see the books, you’ve got to bring them out here. Otherwise it’s no deal. How much time do you want?”

Silk considered, uncertain that he could bring himself to conduct the robberies Blood was demanding. “A year,” he ventured. A great deal could happen in a year.

“Very funny. I bet they roar when you’ve got a ram for Scylsday. Three weeks—oh, shag, make it a month. That’s the top, though. Will your ankle be all right in a month?”

“I don’t know.” Silk tried to move his foot and found as he had before that the cast immobilized it. “I wouldn’t think it very likely.”

Blood snorted. “Musk, get Crane in here.”

As the door closed behind Musk, Silk inquired, “Do you always have a physician on the premises?”

“I try to.” Blood set aside his tumbler. “I had a man for a year who didn’t work out, then a brain surgeon who only stayed a couple of months. After that I had to look around quite a while before I found Crane. He’s been with me…” Blood paused, calculating, “pretty close to four years now. He looks after my people here, naturally, and goes into the city three times a week to see about the girls there. It’s handier, and saves a little money.”

Silk said, “I’m surprised that a skillful physician—”

“Would work for me, taking care of my whores?” Blood yawned. “Suppose you’d seen a doctor in the city for that ankle, Patera. Would you have paid him?”

“As soon as I could, yes.”

“Which would have been never, most likely. Working for me, he gets a regular salary. He doesn’t have to take charity cases, and sometimes the girls’ll tip him if they’re flush.”

The fussy little man arrived a moment later, ushered in by Musk. Silk had seen a picture of a bird of the crane kind not long before, and though he could not recall where it had been, he remembered it now, and with it Crane’s self-mockery. The diminutive doctor no more resembled the tall bird than he himself did the shimmering fabric from which his mother had taken his name.

Blood gestured toward Silk. “You fixed him up. How long before he’s well?”