“No, you fool, I’m not going to bash you in the head. Your wealth and success has come from understanding the motives of others, determining how they will react, and then betting on it accordingly. Rather than taking moments to see if you are right, your decisions may take months. A fire burning in the road. Caravans delayed in passing through. People losing money because cargo has spoiled. Those things may take time to play out, but they will play out. Others observe the loss of spoiled fruit. They can sell the next shipment for double. The faster they react, the more profits they make. It is the nature of Havenrook to use the Uddhava. And it is no coincidence that a Vaettir named Kiranrao is behind it.”
Annon thought about what he had been told. What a perplexing way to look at the world. However, it did explain how attentive Paedrin was to their surroundings. It was as if he were constantly assessing dangers and forming plans. Like on the road to Havenrook, he had noticed the Preachán crouching amidst the wagons and suggested attacking them before being attacked. Having a Bhikhu as a companion was an advantage to anyone.
Annon prodded the fire with a stick. “Is that why the Bhikhu patrol the streets of Kenatos?”
Paedrin gave him a steady look and nodded. “Our presence alone is often enough to prevent crime. Not to mention that we have a certain reputation for inflicting pain on others. Pain is a teacher, as I have told you before. Most people fear it. We do not. We would never stop a child from touching a burning piece of wood. We would warn, but never prevent. Wisdom comes through listening to those with more experience. Only fools blunder through unnecessary pain.”
“How is your shoulder feeling?” Hettie asked wryly.
He gave her a smirk. “It hurts. How is your skull? Thank the stars it was thick enough.”
Erasmus whistled softly. “I am beginning to appreciate Tyrus’s craftiness. I do not think he intended me to go back to Havenrook after guiding you to Drosta’s lair. Since Kiranrao knew what was hidden there, he will slit my belly open to learn where you are taking it. It would probably be in my best interest to stay with you a while longer.”
Paedrin crouched near the fire. Annon was amazed at his flexibility, how he could crouch so low while his heels were flat on the ground. His arm was tied to his body, but he still looked dangerous. He twirled the half-staff in his hand, slowly, thinking.
“Let us consider this together,” he said. “I only know your uncle by reputation as one of the wealthiest men in Kenatos. A Paracelsus. That means he is a maker. His kind made the blade. May I see it?”
Annon shook his head. “No, it is a dangerous thing. It has great power over the mind.”
Paedrin gave him a long look. “I am not a fool, Annon. Let me examine it. I was cut by a blade recently, if you remember. I appreciate the danger.”
Annon withdrew it from his robe and felt the compulsion growing again. The blade did not want to be shown around. He felt a dark menace from it. Annon’s fingers twitched. The surge of emotions was stifling, and he felt sweat pop out on his forehead. Hettie shrank from him, her eyes widening with fear. Erasmus squinted, his face suddenly ashen.
“Put it away,” Paedrin whispered. His eyes were serious. “I could not control my thoughts looking at it, let alone risk handling it. Truly, it is an evil weapon. Put it away.”
Annon obliged, hiding it in his belt, beneath his cloak. The blade went still again.
Paedrin cocked his head, scratching his forehead. “Why would your uncle send you for it? The pretext was buying your freedom.” He nodded to Hettie. Her eyes were haunted. “What was his real motive?”
“Impossible to deduce,” Erasmus said. “He reveals nothing of his plans. He is very guarded.”
Paedrin frowned and shook his head. “The specific reason, perhaps. But we should not relax our thoughts because the riddle is difficult. First thought that comes to me. Did he expect we would be successful? Was it to test our craftiness or persistence? To see if we would quit?”
Annon thought a moment. “He gave us pieces of the riddle, but not the whole. He told us about Erasmus, who could lead us there. He gave me the words that would open the stone. So yes, I think he did want us to succeed.”
“I hate being manipulated,” Hettie said with an icy voice. “Why not tell us it was a blade and not a cask of ducats?”
“Another thought,” Annon said, touching his lip. “Let us suppose that Kiranrao was not lying. That he truly is looking for Tyrus now. Maybe there was an explosion in the tower, that Tyrus is a hunted man. Perhaps he knew the danger was coming and wanted to send us far away?”
Annon thought about what he had been told. What a perplexing way to look at the world. However, it did explain how attentive Paedrin was to their surroundings. It was as if he were constantly assessing dangers and forming plans. Like on the road to Havenrook, he had noticed the Preachán crouching amidst the wagons and suggested attacking them before being attacked. Having a Bhikhu as a companion was an advantage to anyone.
Annon prodded the fire with a stick. “Is that why the Bhikhu patrol the streets of Kenatos?”
Paedrin gave him a steady look and nodded. “Our presence alone is often enough to prevent crime. Not to mention that we have a certain reputation for inflicting pain on others. Pain is a teacher, as I have told you before. Most people fear it. We do not. We would never stop a child from touching a burning piece of wood. We would warn, but never prevent. Wisdom comes through listening to those with more experience. Only fools blunder through unnecessary pain.”
“How is your shoulder feeling?” Hettie asked wryly.
He gave her a smirk. “It hurts. How is your skull? Thank the stars it was thick enough.”
Erasmus whistled softly. “I am beginning to appreciate Tyrus’s craftiness. I do not think he intended me to go back to Havenrook after guiding you to Drosta’s lair. Since Kiranrao knew what was hidden there, he will slit my belly open to learn where you are taking it. It would probably be in my best interest to stay with you a while longer.”
Paedrin crouched near the fire. Annon was amazed at his flexibility, how he could crouch so low while his heels were flat on the ground. His arm was tied to his body, but he still looked dangerous. He twirled the half-staff in his hand, slowly, thinking.
“Let us consider this together,” he said. “I only know your uncle by reputation as one of the wealthiest men in Kenatos. A Paracelsus. That means he is a maker. His kind made the blade. May I see it?”
Annon shook his head. “No, it is a dangerous thing. It has great power over the mind.”
Paedrin gave him a long look. “I am not a fool, Annon. Let me examine it. I was cut by a blade recently, if you remember. I appreciate the danger.”
Annon withdrew it from his robe and felt the compulsion growing again. The blade did not want to be shown around. He felt a dark menace from it. Annon’s fingers twitched. The surge of emotions was stifling, and he felt sweat pop out on his forehead. Hettie shrank from him, her eyes widening with fear. Erasmus squinted, his face suddenly ashen.
“Put it away,” Paedrin whispered. His eyes were serious. “I could not control my thoughts looking at it, let alone risk handling it. Truly, it is an evil weapon. Put it away.”
Annon obliged, hiding it in his belt, beneath his cloak. The blade went still again.
Paedrin cocked his head, scratching his forehead. “Why would your uncle send you for it? The pretext was buying your freedom.” He nodded to Hettie. Her eyes were haunted. “What was his real motive?”
“Impossible to deduce,” Erasmus said. “He reveals nothing of his plans. He is very guarded.”
Paedrin frowned and shook his head. “The specific reason, perhaps. But we should not relax our thoughts because the riddle is difficult. First thought that comes to me. Did he expect we would be successful? Was it to test our craftiness or persistence? To see if we would quit?”
Annon thought a moment. “He gave us pieces of the riddle, but not the whole. He told us about Erasmus, who could lead us there. He gave me the words that would open the stone. So yes, I think he did want us to succeed.”
“I hate being manipulated,” Hettie said with an icy voice. “Why not tell us it was a blade and not a cask of ducats?”
“Another thought,” Annon said, touching his lip. “Let us suppose that Kiranrao was not lying. That he truly is looking for Tyrus now. Maybe there was an explosion in the tower, that Tyrus is a hunted man. Perhaps he knew the danger was coming and wanted to send us far away?”
