[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Robin figured that they were due for another "demon possession" at the healing service probably
today and she was not disappointed. As they brought the man up to the front, spitting and sweating
and breathing fire, she nudged Kestrel in the ribs. "Wasn't he the one with Sister Krystal last night?" she
whispered.
Kestrel narrowed his eyes with concentration, and finally nodded. "I think so," he whispered back, "but
wait until I get a better look at his face."
It wasn't until "the demon had been cast out" that they both got a really clear look at the man, but the
smirk he wore as he was "helped" out of the Cathedral only made the identification surer. He had worn
that same smirk last night.
The chapel was empty of clients; a good time to consult the statuesque Sister Krystal. "The client last
night?" Sister Krystal wrinkled her aristocratic nose with distaste. "His name is Robere Patsono. Is he
one of Padrik's 'special helpers' you were looking for?" At Robin's nod, she grimaced. "I wouldn't be the
least surprised to find out he was involved with Padrik's 'miracles.' He's always hinting about how
important he is to the High Bishop, but he gets very coy about it when one of us tries to find out exactly
what it is he does."
"If his name is Patsono, then he is one of the ones setting up the miracles," Robin replied grimly.
Someone lit a sweet-scented candle, and the smell of roses filled the chapel. Krystal tossed her long,
ash-blond hair over one shoulder, and pursed her lips with speculation. "Do you think you might be able
to well put a spike in Padrik's wheels?" she asked, hopefully. "Things were better when the
Houses and the Guild were legal."
"Things?" Kestrel asked. He looked puzzled, although Robin had a notion what Krystal was talking
about.
Krystal's reply confirmed her guesses. She sighed, and closed her gray eyes for a moment. "Now
well, things can happen to a lady, and the only recourse we have is for Ardana to ban them from the
House. She can't always do that, even, because if the client is important enough, he could threaten to turn
us over to the Cathedral Constables."
"The Guards of Public Morality?" Robin said, with heavy irony. "Very nice. As if they weren't violating
the laws themselves. I've seen plenty ofthem in here too."
Krystal shook her head, and toyed with the silken folds of her robe. "Of course you have. But that
wouldn't stop them from arresting us if they were ordered to. They don't care; why should they? We
aren't important to them.They can always find another House."
"Wh-whereas you w-would w-wind up in g-gaol," Kestrel said for her.
"Or the work-house, where they make 'honest women' out of people like me." Krystal tossed her hair,
but this time angrily.
That was new. "What's a work-house?" Robin asked.
Sister Jasmine chimed in. "It's a place where they're putting women convicted of something called
'immoral idleness.' Basically, it's if they don't have a husband or father supporting them, or work at a
trade or a job. They do plain sewing and laundry for the Cathedral and the Abbey here."
"And get paid what?" Robin wanted to know.
"Nothing!" Jasmine said bitterly. "Their so-called wages' are confiscated to pay their fines and room and
board."
"I've heard other stories, too, about that so-called 'work-house.'" Krystal's eyes flashed with anger. "It
seems the Priests visit there. Very often. I've heard they have all of the advantages of a House, one
reserved for the privileged few, but they don't have to pay for any of them. And not only that, but the
laundry and sewing get done for nothing too!"
Th-that's s-slavery!" Kestrel said, after a moment of appalled silence.
Krystal shrugged, and her hair slipped coquettishly over one eye. "That's the privilege of power," she
replied. "And it's why so few of us have actually beencaught in a raid. We don't want to end up in the
workhouse, so we all have ways to escape. If we have to " she faltered, then continued. " well, one
way to make certain Padrik wouldn't want you is to make certain you aren't pretty anymore."
She might have said more, but Ardana appearedwith a client in tow, a rather ordinary and dumpy little
man, dressed like a middle-class merchant, with merry eyes. There was nothing about him to fire the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]