Harry Turtledove - Jaws of Darkness

Ealstan added up a long column of figures. The young bookkeeper let out a sigh of relief when the answer turned out to be what hed expected. Bearing the ledger into his employers private office, he told Pybba, Those Algarvians are going to make us rich.

Good, the pottery magnate rumbled. Well give em some of their silver back, too, and not the way they expect. Pybba wasnt only the biggest pottery maker in Eoforwic-and, for that matter, in all of Forthweg. He was also one of the leaders in the underground struggle against the Algarvian invaders who occupied his kingdom.

Whatdo you suppose they want with fifty thousand Style Seventeen sugar bowls? Ealstan asked. The question had bothered him ever since an Algarvian colonel marched in to place the order.

Pybbas broad shoulders went up and down in a shrug. Powers below eat the redheads, whatever it is. His eyes flicked down to the bottom of the column. He nodded. Thats not a bad pile of change, eh? Why dont you go on home now? Your wifell be waiting for you, I expect.

Aye, she will. Thanks. Ealstan was glad to have leave to head for his flat.

Pybba showed no sign of going anywhere. His bushy beard was shot with gray, but he went home later and came to work earlier than anybody he employed. Go on, he growled now. Get out of here, before I change my mind.

Odds were, he wasnt joking. Ealstan set the ledger on his own slanted worktable, then got out while the getting was good. Twilight spread gloom across Eoforwic, though the occupied capital of the Kingdom of Forthweg seemed sad and gray and gloomy enough even at midday.

A couple of tall, lean Algarvian constables swaggered past Ealstan. Their arrogant stride made them stand out as much as their coppery hair and their short tunics and pleated kilts. Forthwegian men wore knee-length tunics like Ealstans; Forthwegian women wore loose tunics that reached their ankles. Men and women alike were stocky and swarthy, with dark hair and eyes and strong noses.

Some of the people on the street were almost certainly of Kaunian blood, too. But most of the Kaunians left alive in Eoforwic these days were sorcer-ously disguised to look like their Forthwegian neighbors. The Algarvians hated Kaunians as ancient enemies, and sacrificed them in droves to use their life energy to fuel potent sorceries in their war against Unkerlant to the west. Few Forthwegians cared what happened to their blond neighbors.

Ealstan was one of those few. Vanai, his wife, was a Kaunian. She was also the one whod devised the sorcery that let her folk masquerade as Forthwegians. These days, she went by Thelberge, a Forthwegian name. Her own would have been plenty to betray her.

Not so long after winter yielded to spring, she would have their first child. Ealstan frowned a little as he walked along, wondering if the baby would need a spell cast over it every few hours for years to come. He hoped not. Some half-breed children looked altogether Forthwegian.

After a few paces, his frown deepened. Since shed got pregnant, Vanais protective spell hadnt been holding as long as it did before she found herself with child. If it happened to wear off while she was away from the flat

His fingers writhed in an apotropaic sign. Powers above, prevent it, he said softly. They had so far. He had to hope they would keep on doing it. Vanai was careful. She knew the risk, too, of course. But she couldnt see the illusion that fooled everyone else. The greatest danger lay there. She couldnt see it stop fooling people, either.

Such worries dogged Ealstan about every other night on the way home. They made him walk faster, a lump of dread in his throat, as if an Algarvian constable were about to lay hold ofhim for being a Kaunian. His laugh held no mirth. He wasnt a Kaunian. To the Algarvians, he was that even more suspicious creature, a Kaunian-lover. But being a Kaunian-lover didnt show.

Here was his own street. Here was his own block. Here was his block of flats, a dingy building in a bad part of town. He and Vanai had stayed here ever since coming to Eoforwic from Gromheort and her village of Oyngestun in the east.

He went up the stairs into the cramped, dark lobby. He paused there, at the brass bank of post boxes, to see if anyone had sent him a letter. His family back in Gromheort knew where he lived. He didnt think Vanai had any living family, not any more.

She has me, he thought, and hurried up the stairs to his flat. The narrow stairway had a familiar reek: stale cabbage and stale piss. Sometimes it disgusted him. But hed lived here long enough that sometimes, as tonight, it just felt homey.

Back when he and Vanai first moved in, before shed crafted the spell that let her look like a Forthwegian, shed stayed holed up in the flat all the time, like a trapped animal. Theyd worked out a coded knock, to let her know it was safe to unbar the door and let him in. He still used it, more from habit than from any other reason.

He knocked and waited. When Vanai didnt come to the door, he knocked again, louder this time. She fell asleep a lot more easily than she had before she got pregnant.

When she still didnt come, he knocked once more, louder still. He frowned and took from his belt pouch the long brass key that could work the latch from the outside. If the door was barred, of course, working the latch wouldnt matter one way or the other. He turned the key and pushed at the door, not expecting to be able to get in. But it swung open.

Van-? he began, but checked himself. He tried again, calling, Thelberge? Are you there, sweetheart?

No answer. The flat was quiet and dark, no lamps lit, as if nobodyd been inside since well before the sun went down. Fighting back alarm, Ealstan hurried into the bedchamber. Vanai wasnt lying there sound asleep. She wasnt sitting on the pot, which she also needed to do more than she had before quickening.

Hed already seen she wasnt in the front room or the kitchen. He went back there anyway. Thelberge? Fear made his voice quaver.

Only silence answered. Little by little, Ealstan realized he hadnt known what fear meant. Now he did.

My neighbors, he thought wildly. Maybe my neighbors know something. Trouble was, he hardly knew his neighbors. For one thing, they kept coming and going-this block of flats wasnt the sort of place where people settled down to live out the rest of their lives. And, for another, because of who and what Vanai was, she and Ealstan hadnt gone out of their way to make friends. If anything, theyd gone out of their way to keep to themselves.

But he had to try. Thinking about the alternative Ealstan didnt want to, he wouldnt, think about the alternative. Imagining Vanai in Algarvian hands He shook his head. Hewouldn t think about that.

He knocked on the door to the next-door flat closer to the stairs. Silence. He knocked again. Go away, someone inside said-a womans voice.

Im your neighbor, Ealstan began, and Id like to ask you-

Go away, she said again, or else I start screaming.

Powers below eat you, he muttered under his breath, but he went away, to the flat on the other side of his. Wondering what would go wrong now, he knocked on the door there.

This time, at least, it opened. A gray-bearded man stood in the doorway. His narrow eyes had all the warmth of chips of ice. What do you want, kid? he demanded. Whatever it is, make it snappy.

I dont mean to bother you, Ealstan said, but have you seen my wife today? She was supposed to be home when I got back, and shes not. Shes expecting a baby, so Im worried.

Havent seen her. His neighbor shook his head. Sorry. He didnt sound sorry. He sounded as if he never wanted to see Ealstan again. And when he slammed the door, Ealstan had to jump back in a hurry to keep from getting his nose flattened.