"Good girl!"

"I agree. Beroep, could that have been the voice you heard? Could it have been my bird-or another, similar, bird? Think carefully before you reply."

He stared at me for a moment before patting his forehead with his handkerchief again. "Possible it is, mysire. Not so I will not say."

"That's interesting. My bird is a night chough; and the species is sacred to the god who governs the boundless abyss between the whorls, just as owls are to Tartaros. We have an indication of Molpe in your wife's dream, and an indication of the Outsider in yours." There was a knock at the door, and I called, "What is it, Vadsig?"

"Merfrow Cijfer here is. Through our kitchen she comes, in our front room she sits. With Mistress to speak she wants."

Aanvagen sought my permission with a glance, received it, and hurried out. "A moment only, mysire. Beroep."

"A good woman she is," Aanvagen's husband told me as the door closed, "but no more brain than her cat she has. Better we without her talk. To the court you have thought given? To Judge Hamer? Not friendless you are, I say."

I said that I had tried, but that I knew little of the politics of Dorp-only that I had done no wrong. "Speaking thus from ignorance, it would seem to me that my best chance is to get Nat to drop his charges. If I had the jewelry from my luggage-"

Beroep shook his head regretfully. "This I cannot do, mysire. The inventory Judge Hamer has, by me signed. Fifty cards pay, this to me he would tell."

"Most unfortunate."

Again the gloomy nod. "Why you here are, mysire. This do not you wonder? Why your jailer I am?"

I confessed that I had thought very little about it.

"You will escape, this they hope. A hundred cards paying I am. Ruined I am."

"Poor man!"

Aanvagen's husband patted the bed on which he sat. "Many blankets you have. A fire you have. Good food you get."

"So you won't be ruined. I understand. This is certainly very unfortunate. I take it that it would be useless for you to plead with Nat to drop the charges."

"Me he hates." Beroep wiped sweat-beaded face again. "Bribe him I might. I will, this I think. A greedy thief he is. Friends might help."

"Good. Who did you say is holding my son Hide?"

"Strik he is. An honest trader like me he is."

"Might he not assist you, too?"

"This I will discover, mysire. It may be."

"My son Hide is young and athletic. Headstrong, as all such young men are. He's far more likely to escape, I would say, than I am."

"No go!"

I looked up at Oreb on his perch near the chimney. "All right, I won't. Beroep, you need not worry about my escaping. That won't happen; I give you my word. I can't speak for my son, however, since I can't communicate with him. You might want to tell your friend Strik so."

"To him as you say I will speak, mysire. He may us help. It may be."

"What about the man holding Jahlee, my daughter?"

"Wijzer at sea is." Beroep pointed toward the floor. "That Cijfer, his wife is. But no money she gives unless Wijzer says."

"Do you know when he might return to Dorp?"

Aanvagen's husband shook his head, and I heard her voice from the stairs. "Beroep! A bus! A hus at our door was!"

He rolled his eyes upward. "A shadow it is, mysire. Of this assured be."

My door opened, revealing Aanvagen and a slightly slimmer, slightly younger woman with the same blue eyes, fair hair, and high complexion. "A hus at our door it is. Cijfer to our door it will not allow."

When Aanvagen's husband spoke, it was with a world of skepticism in his voice. "A hus it is?"

"Yes!" Cijfer's hands indicated a beast the size of a dray horse.

I went to the door and called for Vadsig, then turned back to Aanvagen and her husband. "Those are steep stairs. I hope you won't mind if I ask your servant to help me instead of troubling you."

He said, "You my guest are, mysire."

Vadsig's voice floated up the stairwell. "What it is, mysire?"

"Open the front door, please, and leave it open. Your master agrees that you are to do as I say. It's important."

There was a lengthy pause, then the sound of Vadsig's hurrying feet.

"Beroep, am I correct in thinking that if a hus-a wild hus-has come into Dorp, someone will shoot it?"

He shook his head, and both women protested, horrified.

"They won't?"

"Bad luck it is!" This from the women in chorus.

"Superstition it is," Aanvagen's husband explained, in the tone of one who tolerates the irrational beliefs of the ignorant. "If a beast into the town it comes, misfortune it brings. Back to the woodlands we must it drive. If killed it is, the misfortune in our town remains."

I had been listening for the clatter of Babbie's hoofs on Aanvagen's wooden floors, and had not heard it. I called, "Vadsig, did you open that door as I asked you?"

She replied, but I could not understand what she said. "Tell her to come up here," Aanvagen's husband advised.

As loudly as I could, I shouted, "Come here, please, Vadsig!" and fell to coughing.

Aanvagen said, "Tea with brandy in it you need, mysire. Get it you shall. See to it I will."

"Alone we should talk," her husband muttered. "That better would be. This hus in my house you wish."

I nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Not a wild hus it is. Not a shadow either it is. A tame hus? Yours, mysire?"

I nodded again.

"Like your bird it is."

Oreb bobbed agreement. "Good bird!"

"Somewhat like him at least. My hus-his name is Babbie-does not speak, of course. But he's a clean, gentle animal. We were separated, and he seems to have gone back to the woman who gave him to me. Some time ago, she learned where I was and promised to return him."

Vadsig bustled through the doorway. "Yes, Mysire Horn?"

I said, "I simply wanted to know whether you opened the front door as I asked, Vadsig."

"Oh, yes, mysire."

"You a big animal seeing are?" Aanvagen put in.

"Yes, mistress."

"What sort of animal, Vadsig?"

"Mules, mysire. Pulling carts they are."

"A hus you seeing are?" Cijfer inquired urgently.

"A hus? Oh, no, Merfrow Cijfer."

"Did you leave the door open, Vadsig, when you came up?"

"No, mysire. Cold in the street it is."

"How long did you leave it open?"

"Till you up to come telling me are, mysire."

Oreb dropped to my shoulder, giving me a quizzical look to indicate that he would go outside and look for the hus if asked. I shook my head-unobtrusively, I hope.

Aanvagen's husband asked, "No hus you seeing are, Vadsig?"

"No, Master."

He turned to Cijfer. "A hus at my door you seeing are?"

"Yes, Beroep. Never a hus so big I see. Tusks as long as my hand they are."

"This your Babbie is?" he asked me.

"Yes, I'm quite sure it is."

"Your Babbie Vadsig hurting is?"

"I certainly don't think so."

He made a gesture of dismissal. "Vadsig, to the door again go. If a hus you see, the door open leave and us you tell. If no hus you see, the door you close and your work you do."

She ducked in a sketchy curtsy and hurried away.

Cijfer offered him the letter I had penned a few hours before, her hand shaking sufficiently to rattle the paper. "Finding this in the sleeping girl's room I am, Beroep. It reading you are? Aanvagen, too?"

They bent their heads over it.

"Your daughter she is, mysire?" Her voice trembled.

I nodded.

"Sleeping all day she is. Sleeping all night she is not. Walking she is, talking is." She turned to Aanvagen, her voice trembling. "My pictures from the walls breaking!"

Downstairs, something fell with a crash. Vadsig screamed.