‘Oh, dear,’ I sighed.
‘I can’t live under a rock, Aunt Pol,’ he said plaintively. ‘The town of Muros has been good to me. I should do something to pay them back.’
‘Build them a public park or open a hospital for the poor. Don’t get involved in their politics.’
He sighed. ‘Whatever you say, Aunt Pol,’ he surrendered.
Despite my intervention that kept him out of office, Geran was becoming much too prominent in Muros for my comfort. I began to get an uneasy feeling that sooner or later one of Ctuchik’s agents might just decide to have a look into the background of this ‘first citizen’, and so I began making some plans.
As it turned out, that wasn’t premature. It was, in fact, just a little late.
Young Alten continued to grow, and by the time he was twelve, he was almost as tall as his father. Every so often, one of the heirs I’ve nurtured reverts to type, perhaps to remind me that the blood of Bear-shoulders still runs in their veins. Alten was going through one of those gangly stages all adolescent males have to endure. Sometimes it almost seemed that I could see him grow. He was about fourteen, I think, when he came home one afternoon with a puzzled look on his face. ‘Are we important people, Aunt Pol?’ he asked me.
‘Your grandfather seemed to think so a few years back,’ I replied. ‘He wanted to stand for election to the town council.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I talked him out of it. Why this sudden interest in fame, Alten? You’re an apprentice cobbler. You’ll become famous if you make good shoes.’
‘The cobbler I’m apprenticed to broke his favorite needle this morning,’ he explained. ‘He sent me out to buy him a new one. I was in the central market and there was this foreigner there asking questions about us.’
‘What kind of foreigner?’ I asked quickly. I was suddenly very alert.
‘I’m not really sure, Aunt Pol. He wasn’t a Tolnedran or a Drasnian. I’m sure of that.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘He was a big man with swarthy skin – darker than a Tolnedran or an Arend – and he had funny-shaped eyes.’
‘Scars on his cheeks?’ I pressed, my heart sinking.
‘Now that you mention it, I think he did. He was wearing a black robe that looked sort of rusty. Anyway, he was really curious about us. He wanted to know when grandfather came here to Muros, and he really wanted to know about you. He described you very well, and I can’t imagine when it was he ever saw you, since you almost never go out of the house.’
‘Someone told him about me, Alten. Go back to the tannery and get your father and then go find your grandfather. He may be out in the cattle pens somewhere. Tell them both that this is very urgent. We all have to get together and talk. Oh, one other thing. Stay away from the foreigner with the scarred face.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, already moving toward the door.
I knew that there were going to be objections – rather violent ones – so I did something I hadn’t really been obliged to do for quite a long time. I didn’t try to reason with my growing family; I issued commands. ‘There’s a Murgo in town,’ I told them when they’d all assembled. ‘He’s been asking questions about us. We’ll have to leave town immediately.’
‘This is a bad time, Aunt Pol,’ Davon objected. ‘My foreman at the shoe shop just quit his job. I’ve got to find a replacement for him before I can go anywhere.’
‘Leave that to the new owner.’
‘What new owner?’
‘The fellow who buys your shop.’
‘I’m not selling my shop!’
‘Burn it down, then.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about keeping this family alive, Davon. When Murgos start asking questions about us, we pack up and leave.’
‘I’ve invested my whole life in that shop! It’s very important to me!’
‘Important enough to die for? Important enough to kill Alnana and Alten for?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Tell him about what happened on the beach at Riva in 4002, Geran.’
‘She’s right, Davon,’ Geran told his son. ‘When Ctuchik’s people start getting close to us, we run – or die. The whole of Cthol Murgos wants to kill us.’
‘But our lives are here!’ Alnana objected, right on the verge of tears.
‘And so are our graves – if we stay,’ Geran said bluntly. ‘If we don’t move – and right now – none of us will be alive next week.’ He stared at the ceiling. ‘Oldrik, the Earl of Muros, is my friend. We’ll turn the family business over to him. He’ll sell it for us and send the money to the royal treasury in Sendar.’
‘Surely you’re not going to just give our life’s work to the king, father!’ Davon exploded.
‘No, I’m not. I’m not that patriotic. Aunt Pol’s got a fortune that the king takes care of. We’ll just add our money to hers for now – until we find a new place to hide.’
‘Why not just kill the Murgo?’ Alten demanded.
‘Interesting idea, Alten,’ I said coolly. ‘Are you any good at murdering people? Have you had lots of practice?’
‘Well–’ he faltered.
‘I didn’t think so. All right then, Geran. Go talk to Oldrik.’
‘First thing in the morning, Aunt Pol.’
‘No, Geran. Do it right now. I’ll write a short note to the king with that password so he’ll know what to do with your money. By tomorrow morning, we’ll be miles away from Muros. Davon, you and Alten go back to the shoeshop. Tell your cobblers that something’s come up. Call it a family emergency, and don’t get too specific. Tell them that we have to go to Camaar.’
‘Are we going to Camaar, Aunt Pol?’
‘Of course not, but I want that Murgo to think that’s where we’re going. Oh, by the way, Geran, have Oldrik sell this house, too. We won’t need it any more.’
‘Where are we going, Aunt Pol?’ Alten asked me.
‘To a place where there are roses,’ I said, smiling.
Geran sighed.
‘Look on the bright side, Geran,’ I said. ‘This time, you’ll have help when you start cleaning the house.’
And that’s exactly what we did. We left Muros about two hours before dawn, traveling westward on the imperial highway that led to Camaar, and when we were about three leagues out of town, we took the secondary road that branched off toward the western end of Lake Camaar. We reached the lake about noon, and then we doubled back along the north shore and took a back road toward Medalia.