She knew the answer was a mistake before she had completed it. The hand
lifted,

     flicked,  dismissing  her like a gnat. With a mighty  jerk,  the guards
lifted her from her feet and whisked her from the important man's presence.
     "But  my husband is a good man! Please,  Protector Muksin!  Richard did
not cause any of the trouble! He was home!"
     Her  words were sincere, and much the same as those spoken by the women
before her.  She was furious that  she could not  convince him  that she was
different-that Richard  was  different.  The  others, she  knew now, had all
tried to do the same.
     Kamil ran behind as the guards carried her down a short, dark hall to a
side door out of the stone fortress. Evening light stole in when they opened
the door.  They shoved her. Nicci stumbled  down the steps. Kamil was shoved
out right behind  her. He fell facedown in the dirt. Nicci knelt to help him
up.
     From her  knees, she looked up to the doorway. "What about my husband?"
she pressed.
     "You  can come back another  day," one guard said. "When  he confesses,
the Protector can tell you the charges."
     Nicci knew he would never confess. He would die, first.
     That was not a problem, as far as these men were concerned.
     "Can I see him?" Nicci folded her hands prayerfully as she knelt beside
Kamil. "Please, can I at least see him?"
     One of the guards whispered to the other.
     "Have you any money?" he asked her.
     "No," she said in a mournful cry.
     They started to go back in.
     "Wait!" Kamil cried out.
     When  they paused,  he ran up  the steps. He  lifted his  pant leg  and
pulled  off  a  boot.  Upending it,  a  coin  fell  into  his palm.  Without
reservation, he handed the silver coin to the guard.
     The man made a sour face when he looked at the coin. "This isn't enough
for a visit."
     Kamil seized the big man's wrist as he started to turn. "I have another
at home. Please, let me go get it. I can run. I can be back in an hour."
     The man shook his head. "Not tonight. Visits for  those who can pay the
fee are the day after tomorrow, at sunset. But only one visitor is allowed."
     Kamil waved his hand at Nicci. "His wife. She will visit him."
     The guard swept  an  appraising  look over Nicci,  smirking,  as if  to
consider what more she might have to give to see her husband.
     "Just be sure to bring the fee."
     The door slammed shut.
     Kamil raced  down the steps  and  seized her arm, his big eyes brimming
with tears.  "What are we going to do? That's two more  days they will  have
him. Two more days!"
     He was starting to choke on his panic. He hadn't said it,  but she knew
what  he  meant. That was two more days to torture a confession out  of him.
Then they would bury Richard in the sky.
     Nicci took a firm grip on the boy's  arm  and walked him away.  "Kamil,
listen  to me. Richard is strong. He will be all right. He's  been through a
lot before. He's strong. You know he's strong?"
     Kamil was  nodding as he bit his lower lip and wept, reduced to a child
by his fear for his friend.

     --]----
     Nicci stared at the ceiling the entire night. The next day, she went to
stand in line  for bread. She realized,  as she stood  with the other women,
that she  must have  the same  hollow look  as they. She was in a  daze. She
didn't know what to do. Everything seemed to be disintegrating.
     That night, she slept only a few  hours. She was in a state of restless
anxiety, counting the minutes until the sun would come up. When it  did, she
sat at  the table, clutching  the loaf of  bread she would take  to Richard,
waiting the eternity it took for the day to drag by. The neighbor lady, Mrs.
Sha'Rim, brought Nicci a bowl of cabbage soup. She stood over Nicci, smiling
sympathetically,  while she  waited to make sure  Nicci  ate the soup. Nicci
thanked Mrs. Sha'Rim, and said the soup  was delicious. She had no idea what
the soup tasted like.
     In  the  early afternoon, Nicci decided  to  go wait  at the stronghold
until  she was allowed in. She didn't want to be late.  Kamil was sitting on
the steps, waiting for her. A small crowd of people milled about.
     Kamil shot to his feet. "I have the silver mark."
     Nicci wanted to tell him that he didn't have to pay it, that she would,
but she didn't have a silver mark. She had only a few silver pennies.
     "Thank you, Kamil. I will find the money to pay you back."
     "I don't want it back. It is for Richard. It is what I choose to do for
Richard. It is worth it to me."
     Nicci nodded. She knew she would rot before anyone came up with a penny
for her, yet she had devoted  her entire life  to helping others. Her mother
told her once that it was  wrong to  expect thanks,  that she  owed help  to
those people because she was able to give it.
     As Nicci walked down the steps, people came  up and offered  their best
wishes. They asked her to tell Richard  to be strong,  and not  to give  in.
They asked her to tell them if there  was anything they could do, or  if she
needed money.
     They'd had Richard  for  days. Nicci  didn't  even know if he was still
alive.  The silent  walk to the prison stronghold  was terror. She feared to
find he  had  been put to  death, or  to see him,  and know  he would  die a
lingering,  suffering  agony from his questioning. Nicci  knew very well how
the Order questioned people.
     At the  side door, a half-dozen  other women along with a few older men
stood in  the sweltering sun. All the women  had sacks of  food. None of the
people spoke. They were all bent under the weight of the same dread.
     Nicci stared at the door as the sun slowly sank. In the gathering dusk,
Kamil hung his waterskin on Nicci's shoulder.
     "Richard will probably  want  something  to  drink  with  his bread and
chicken."
     "Thank you," she whispered.
     The  ironbound  door  squeaked open.  Everyone  looked  up at the guard
standing in the door, signaling for everyone to approach. He glanced down at
a piece of paper. As the first woman raced up the stairs, he stopped her and
asked her name. When she told him, he checked it against his  list, then let
her pass. The  second woman  he  turned away. She  cried out, saying she had
paid for the visit. He told her  that her husband had confessed to crimes of
treason and was allowed no visitors.
     She wailed as she fell to the ground. Everyone  else watched in horror,
fearing the same fate. Another woman gave her name and  was sent in. Another
went in, then the next was told that her husband had died.

     Nicci, in a daze, started up the stairs. Kamil grabbed  her arm. He put
a coin in her hand.
     "Thank you, Karnil."
     He nodded. "Tell Richard I said . . . Just tell him to come home."
     "Richard Cypher," she answered the guard, her heart hammering.
     He looked at  the paper briefly, then waved her in. "That man will take
you to him.
     Relief flooded through her. He was still alive.
     Inside  the dark  hall,  another soldier waited. He tilted his head  in
command. "Follow me." He moved  into the darkness, a lamp swinging from each
hand.  She stayed close behind as  he  descended  two long flights of narrow
stairs into the damp dark underground.
     In a small  room with a hissing torch, People's Protector Muksin sat on
a bench, sweating, as he talked to two men-minor officials, judging by their
deferential treatment of the rotund Protector.
     The Protector stood after briefly inspecting the paper the guard handed
him. "You have the fee?"
     "Yes, Protector Muksin." Nicci handed over the coin.
     He  glanced  at  it  before  pocketing  the silver.  "Fines  for  civil
violations are steep,"  he said  cryptically  as  his  dark  eyes  halted to
measure her reaction.
     Nicci licked her lips, her hopes suddenly  buoyant. She had passed  the
first test by paying the fee. The greedy bastard was now demanding money for
Richard's life.
     Nicci spoke cautiously, fearing to make a mistake. "If I knew the fine,
Protector, I believe I could raise the money."
     The Protector peered at her with an intensity that made sweat break out
across her brow.  "A man needs  to prove his repentance. A fine that cuts to
the bone is a sure way to show remorse for a civil infraction. Less,  and we
will know the penance insincere. Day after tomorrow, at this time, those who
have confessed to such infractions and have someone who can pay the price of
the fine, are brought before me for disposition."
     He had named the price: everything. He had told her what Richard had to
do. She wanted to tear out the man's fat throat.
     "Thank  you   for  your  kind  understanding   of  my  husband's  civil
indiscretion.  If I could see him,  I will  see that he hurts to the bone in
remorse."
     He smiled a thin  sweaty smile. "See that you  do, young lady. Men left
too long down here with their guilt end  up confessing to  the most terrible
things."
     Nicci swallowed. "I understand, Protector Muksin."
     The torture would not stop until the man had the price.
     The guard seized her arm abruptly and yanked her off down a pitch-black
corridor, holding his two lanterns in his other hand. They went down another
flight  of  stairs,  down  to the very bottom of  the stronghold. The narrow
passageway burrowed  its crooked way  through the  stone of  the foundation,
past rooms  purpose-built to  hold criminals. Being  not far from the river,
water seeped into the place, leaving it forever  slimy,  wet, and reeking of
rot. She saw things skitter away into the blackness.
     The  sound of their feet splashing through ankle-deep water echoed back
from the distance.  Decomposing carcasses  of huge rats  bobbed on the waves
caused by their passing footsteps. The place reminded Nicci of her childhood
nightmares of the

     underworld, a fate her mother had promised awaited all those who failed
in their duty to their fellow man.
     The short doors to the sides each had a small opening about the size of
a hand-so that the guards could look in, she supposed. There was no light at
all but what the  guards brought,  so there was nothing for  those inside to
look  out  at. In several  of those doors, fingers gripped the  edge of  the
opening. As the lamplight passed, Nicci saw  wide eyes peering  out from the
black holes. From many of the openings came weeping of anguish, or agony.
     The guard stopped. "Here it is."
     Her  heart beating wildly, Nicci waited. Instead of opening  the  door,
the  guard turned to  her  and  grabbed her  breasts. She stood  motionless,
fearing to move. He fondled her, as if he were testing melons in the market.
She was too afraid to  say  anything, lest he  not let her  see Richard.  He
pressed closer to her  and pushed  his meaty hand down inside the top of her
dress, fingering her nipples.
     Nicci knew that men like this were necessary  if the Order was to bring
their teachings to all. You had to  accept  that  the nature of  mankind was
perverted.  There had to  be  sacrifices.  Brutes were  necessary to enforce
morality on the masses. She stifled a yelp as he pinched her tender flesh.
     The guard chuckled, pleased  with  his  grope, and turned  to the door.
After some difficulty  with the rusty lock,  he finally got the key to turn.
He grasped the  door through the opening  and  gave  a mighty tug.  The door
slowly grated  open  just  enough  to  get by. The guard hung a lantern just
inside on the wall.
     "After  I've seen  to some other matters, I'll be back  and your  visit
will be over." He chortled again.  "Don't waste any time getting your skirts
up for him-if he's in any condition for it."
     He  shoved her in the room. "Here you go, Cypher.  I got  her nice  and
randy  for you."  The  door  shut with  a clang that echoed up and  down the
crooked  passageway.  Nicci  heard the  key turn  and  the  guard's sloshing
footsteps as he departed.
     The square  room  was  so tiny  she could  have  stretched her arms and
touched the walls to each side at the same time. The ceiling brushed the top
of  her head.  She was overwhelmed by  the terrifying  closeness of  it. She
wanted out.
     She feared the body crumpled at her feet was dead.
     "Richard?"
     She heard a little groan. His arms were behind his back, locked in some
kind of wooden binders. She feared he might drown.
     Tears stung  her eyes. She sank to her knees.  The slimy water that had
sloshed into her boots now soaked up through her dress.
     "Richard?"
     She  pulled at his shoulder to  turn him over. He cried  out and shrank
away from her hand.
     When she saw  him, she covered her mouth  with both hands to stifle her
scream. She felt the tears flooding down her face as she  gasped to  get her
breath.
     "Oh, Richard."
     Nicci stood and tore  off a strip of  her shift from  under  her dress.
Kneeling once  more, she used  the cloth to gently  wipe the  blood from his
face.
     "Richard, can you hear me? It's Nicci."
     He nodded. "Nicci."
     One eye was swollen shut.  His hair was  matted with mud and slime from
the

     water he lay  in.  His clothes  were torn open. In the harsh light from
the small lamp, she could see puffy red wounds crisscrossing his flesh.
     He saw her  staring at  his wounds. "I'm afraid you'll never be able to
patch this shirt."
     She offered a feeble smile at his grim  humor.  Her fingers trembled as
she  wiped his  face. She didn't know why she would react this way. She  had
seen worse than this.
     Richard pulled his head back away from her ministrations.
     "Am I hurting you?"
     "Yes."
     "Sorry. I have some water."
     He  nodded  eagerly.  Nicci  poured  water  into  his  mouth  from  the
waterskin. He drank greedily.
     While he caught his breath, she said, "Kamil came up with the money for
the fee to get me in to see you."
     Richard only smiled.
     "Kamil wants you out of here."
     "I  want me out  of here." He didn't sound like himself. His voice  was
hoarse and almost gone.
     "Richard, the Protector-"
     "Who?"
     "The official in  charge of this, this prison. He told me that there is
a way to get you out.  He  said you must plead guilty to a civil infraction,
and pay a fine."
     Richard was  nodding. "I figured  as much. He asked  if  I had money. I
told him I did."
     "You do? You've saved money?"
     He nodded. "I have money."
     Nicci's  fingers  desperately  gathered  his  collar   into  her  fist.
"Richard, I can't pay the fine to get you out  for  two  more days. Can  you
hold on? Please, can you hold on until then?"
     He smiled in the dim lamplight. "I'm not going anywhere."
     Nicci remembered then, and pulled the bread out of the sack. "I brought
food. Bread, and some roasted chicken."
     "Chicken. Bread won't sustain me long. They don't feed me."
     She tore at the  chicken with her fingers. She held a piece  up  to his
mouth for him. She couldn't stand to  see  Richard helpless. It angered her.
It made her sick.
     "Eat,  Richard," she  urged when  his  head sank forward. He  shook his
head, as if to banish sleep. "Here, have some more."
     She watched him chew. "Can you sleep in this water?"
     "They don't let you sleep. They-"
     She pushed a  long chunk of chicken in  his mouth. She knew too many of
the details of the Order's methods. She didn't want to  know which technique
they had chosen for him.
     "I'll get you out, Richard. Don't give up. I'll get you out."
     He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter.
     "Why? Covetous of your prisoner? Jealous to see others abuse me in your
place? Fear they might destroy me before you can?"
     Richard, that's not-"
     "I am just a man. Only  the  greater good matters. That I'm innocent is
immaterial,

     because no one man's life has  value. If I must suffer and die this way
to help drive others to the ways of your Creator and your Order, who are you
to deny them that virtuous end?  What do your wishes matter? How can you put
your life, or mine, above the good of others?"
     How many times had she lectured him with that same  moral doctrine? How
contemptuous, how venomous, how treacherous it sounded from his lips.
     She hated herself at that moment. He somehow  put the lie to everything
the Order stood for, to  everything  she had devoted her life to. He somehow
made doing good seem .  .  . evil. That was why he was so dangerous. That he
even existed threatened everything for which they stood.
     She  was so  close. So close to knowing what she needed  to understand.
The very  fact that  there were tears running  down her face  told her  that
there really was  something  that made  the  whole ordeal worthwhile-made it
essential.  The indefinable spark she had  seen in his eyes from  the  first
instant was real.
     If she could just reach that little bit more, then she could finally do
what  was best. It would be  better for him. What kind of life could he ever
have? How much suffering  could he endure? She  hated that she was condemned
to serving the Creator in such a way.
     "Look around, Nicci. You wanted to show me the better way of the Order.
Look around. Isn't it glorious?"
     She hated to see) one of his beautiful eyes swollen shut.
     "Richard, I need the money you  saved. If  I'm to get you out  of here,
I'll need it all. The official told me it had to be all of what you had."
     A hoarse whisper was all he had left. "It's in our room."
     "Our room? Where? Tell me where."
     He shook his head. "You could  never get  it out. You have  to know the
trick to open it. Go to Ishaq."
     "Ishaq? At the transport company? Why?"
     "It was his  parlor, once.  There's a  hidden compartment in the floor.
Tell him why you need the money. He will open it for you."
     She held  more chicken up to his mouth. "All right. I'll go  to Ishaq."
She hesitated  while she watched  him chew. "I'm sorry that you have to give
up what you've managed to save. I know how hard you work. It's not right for
them to take it."
     He shrugged again. "Just money. I'd rather live."
     Nicci  smiled and wiped the  tears from her cheeks.  That  was the best
thing she could have hoped to hear.
     The door opened. "Pull your skirt down, woman. Time's up."
     As he dragged her out  by her  arm, she stuffed the last of the chicken
in Richard's mouth.
     "Civil infraction!" she called to him. "Don't forget!"
     He had to confess to a civil infraction that could be paid with a fine.
Then they would release him. Any other crime was death.
     "I won't forget."
     She reached back toward him as she was pulled from the tiny cell. "I'll
be back for you, Richard! I swear!"


        CHAPTER 56

     Nicci paced as Ishaq bent over the trapdoor in the corner of the  room.
He had been  at it a long time.  He had pushed the wardrobe aside  to get at
the secret place in the floor. Occasionally  he muttered  under  his breath,
cursing himself for having made it so difficult to get into.
     "At last!" Ishaq scrambled to his feet.
     Nicci hoped that  the meager  money Richard  could have managed to save
would be  enough  to satisfy  Protector Muksin. In her  head, she  was going
through a list of people who had offered money to help Richard.
     Ishaq scurried close. "Here it is."
     He hurriedly  placed the leather purse  in her hand. The weight shocked
her. The purse  filled her palm.  It didn't make sense. She realized Richard
must  have put  some metal items in with his savings-that  would account for
the weight. She pulled open the top and dumped the contents in her palm.
     Nicci  gasped. There were close to two dozen gold  marks. There  wasn't
any silver. It was all gold.
     "Dear Creator..." she whispered, her eyes  wide. "Where  would  Richard
get all this money?"
     It  was more money than  most wealthy men  saw in  their  lifetime. She
looked up into Ishaq's eyes.
     "Where would Richard get all this money?"
     He swept his red hat off his head. He waved impatiently at all the gold
lying in her palm. "Richard earned it."
     She  felt  her frown darkening. "Earned it? How?  No one man could earn
this much money-not honestly, anyway." She felt her anger building. "Richard
stole this gold, didn't he?"
     "Don't  be silly."  Ishaq  gestured  irritably.  "Richard earned it. He
bought and sold goods."
     She gritted her teeth. "How did he get this money?"
     The man flung up his hands.  "I'm telling you. He earned it himself-all
by himself. He bought things and sold them to people who needed them."
     "Things? What kind of things? Contraband?"
     "No! Things like iron and steel-"
     "Nonsense. How would he move it? Carry it on his back?"
     "At first. But then he bought a wagon to-"
     :.A wagon!.,
     "Yes.  And horses.  He bought  charcoal and ore  and sold  them  to the
foundries.  Mostly, he  bought  metal from  the foundry, and sold it to  the
blacksmith. The black

     smith uses a great deal of metal. He  bought  it from Richard. That was
how he earned the money."
     Nicci  seized  the  man's  collar  at  his  throat.  "Take  me  to this
blacksmith."
     Nicci was  furious. All this time,  she had thought Richard  an  honest
hardworking man, and now she had discovered that he was imprisoned properly.
He was guilty of swindling honest working  people out of their money. He was
profiteering.
     At  that moment, she was not sorry at all  for what they were doing  to
him in the prison. He deserved it all, and more. He was a criminal, cheating
honest hardworking people out  of gold. She burned with humiliation, knowing
she had been deceived by him.
     --]----
     Nicci had seen the site of the  palace before, but at a distance as she
went about  her business in the city. She had never  been this close. It was
going to be everything Jagang said it would be. It filled her with  awe. All
the inspiring words of Brother Narev from her youth were like a sacred choir
singing from  the depths of her memories as she  looked  upon the  sweep  of
scenes being erected.
     The walls  were  already up over  the openings  for the windows on  the
first floor. In some sections, beams were being laid, spanning  the interior
walls, to support the next story.
     But it was  the  outside which took her  breath. The stone  walls  were
banded with  carvings on  a scale  she  had  never imagined. Just as Brother
Narev  would have directed, the carvings were inspirational, and convincing.
Nicci saw people  gazing upon the scenes, weeping at the events recounted in
stone, weeping at the depiction of the miserable creature that was  man, and
the  unattainable  glory that  was the perfection of the Creator.  With such
moving  visions,  there  could be no doubt that the Order was mankind's only
hope of  salvation. Just as  Jagang had said, this would be a palace to stir
the people with overpowering emotion.
     "Why are those poles there?" she asked Ishaq as  they marched along the
wide  cobbled path where people  stood and  watched the construction,  while
others knelt and prayed at various horrific scenes depicted on the walls.
     "Carvers." Ishaq removed his red hat as he looked at the sight. "It was
said they took part in the revolt."
     Nicci's gaze passed  among  the rotting corpses hanging at  the tops of
the poles. "Why would the carvers  take part in the revolt? They have work."
More  than that, they were working on the  scenes of the glory of the Order.
They,  of all people, should have known how their only hope of reward in the
next world required suffering in this.
     "I did  not say  they took part. I said that it was said that they took
part."
     Nicci didn't correct the man. All men were corrupt. There wasn't  a man
who  could  not be put to death without  it being  justified. That  included
Richard.
     Many of the stones under  protective roofs where men had worked now sat
idle. Ramps were constructed, along with scaffolding, for the masons to work
on the palace  walls.  As  they placed their stone,  other men, slave labor,
worked  at  hauling huge  blocks  up the  ramps to them,  carried baskets of
mortar or dirt and  rock,  or worked  in  trenches building  the underground
cells  where the  Order would purge the world of the worst sinners and where
criminals would confess their crimes.

     It  was a terrible  business, but you couldn't have a garden unless you
got your hands dirty first.
     The  blacksmith's  shop,  up  on the  side  of a  hill overlooking  the
colossal undertaking, was the largest she had ever  seen. With a  project of
this scale, it was  understandable. She stood outside while Ishaq hurried in
to fetch the blacksmith for her.
     The sounds  of hammers ringing on steel, the smells  of the forge,  the
smoke, the oils, the acid, the brine, all  brought back a flood  of memories
of her father's  shop. For a brief moment, Nicci's heart beat faster-she was
a  girl again. She almost expected to see  her  father come out and smile at
her with that wondrous energy of his showing in his blue eyes.
     Instead, a  brawny man stepped out of the shadows into the daylight. He
wore no smile, but a menacing glare. At first, she thought he was bald. Then
she saw that his full  head of  hair was simply cropped close to  his scalp.
Some of her father's men  who worked  with hot iron did the same.  His scowl
would have set any other woman back three paces.
     He wiped  his hands on a rag  as he walked  through  the milky sunlight
toward  her, appraising her  eyes more  carefully  than most men-other  than
Richard. His thick leather  apron was  speckled  with  hundreds of tiny burn
marks.
     "Mrs. Cypher?"
     Ishaq backed away, contenting himself to be a shadow.
     "That's right. I'm Richard's wife."
     "Funny, Richard never really  spoke of  you.  I guess I just assumed he
had a wife, but he never said--"
     "Richard has been taken into custody."
     The scowl  changed in an instant to wide-eyed  concern. "Richard's been
arrested? For what?"
     "Apparently, for the most base of crimes: cheating people."
     "Cheating people? Richard? They're out of their minds."
     "I'm afraid not. He is guilty. I have the evidence."
     "What evidence?"
     Ishaq  swooped  in  close,  unable  to  contain  himself   any  longer.
"Richard's money. The money he made."
     "Made!" Nicci's  shout drove Ishaq back a  step. "You mean the money he
stole."
     The  blacksmith's scowl had returned. "Stole? Who do you think he stole
this money from? Who are his accusers? Where are his victims?"
     "Well, you are one."
     "Me?..
     "Yes, I'm afraid you  were one of his victims. I'm here  to return your
money.  I  can't  use  stolen  money  to  rescue  a criminal  from his  just
punishment. Richard will have to pay the price for his crime. The Order will
see that he does."
     The  blacksmith  tossed his towel aside and  planted his fists  on  his
hips. "Richard
     never stole  one 'silver penny from anyone-least of all,  me! He earned
his money."
     "He cheated you."
     "He sold me iron and steel.  I need  iron and steel to make things  for
the  Retreat.  Brother Narev comes in here and  growls  at  me to get things
made, but  he doesn't  deliver  me the  iron  from  which I must make  them.
Richard  does. Until Richard  came  along, I nearly got  buried in  the  sky
myself, because Ishaq, here, couldn't get me enough iron and steel."
     "I couldn't!  The committee only gives  me permission  to bring  what I
bring. I

     would  be  buried  in  the  sky myself if  I bring  more  than  I  have
permission to bring. Everybody at  the  transport company  watches me.  They
report me to the workers' group if I spit wrong."
     "So,"  Nicci  said, folding her  arms, "Richard has you  over your  own
brine barrel. He brings you iron at night and you have no  choice but to pay
him  his price, and he  knows it. He makes  all this  gold  by gouging  you.
That's how  he  got  rich-by overcharging  you.  That's the  worst  kind  of
thievery."
     The blacksmith frowned at her as if she were daft.
     "Richard sells  me  iron and  steel  for a lot  less  than I can buy it
through the regular transport companies-like from Ishaq."
     "I charge what the committee on fair pricing tells me! I have no say!"
     "That's just crazy," Nicci said to the blacksmith, ignoring Ishaq.
     "No,  it's  smart.  You see, the  foundries produce more than they  can
sell,  because  they  can't get it moved. Their furnaces have  to be  heated
whether they make one ton or ten. They need to make enough iron to  make the
heat worth it, to pay  their workers, and  to keep their  furnaces going. If
they don't  buy enough ore, the mines close and then the  foundry  can't get
any ore  at all.  They can't exist if  they can't get raw materials. But the
Order won't let Ishaq, and those like  him, move as  much  as the  foundries
need moved. The  Order takes weeks to decide on  the  simplest request. They
consider every imaginable person who they fancy might conceivably be hurt if
Ishaq were to move the  load. The foundries were desperate.  They offered to
sell their extra to Richard at less money-"
     "So they are cheated in Richard's scheme, too!"
     "No, because Richard takes it, they sell more, so it costs them less to
make. They make more money than they would have otherwise. Richard  sells it
to  me for less  than  I have to  pay from the regular transport  companies,
because he buys it for less."
     Nicci threw her hands up in disgust. "And to top it off, he  is putting
working  men out of  jobs. He's the worst sort of criminal-making his profit
off the backs of the poor, the needy, and the workers!"
     "What?"  Ishaq  protested. "I can't get enough  people to  work, and  I
can't get enough permits to haul the goods people need. Richard puts no  one
out of work-he helps create  more  business for everybody. The  foundries he
hauls  for  have each hired more men  since  they are  able to sell  through
Richard."
     "That's right," the blacksmith said.
     "But, you just  don't see it,"  Nicci  insisted  as she raked  back her
hair. "He's  pulled the wool over your eyes.  He's cheating  you-milking you
dry. You're getting poor because Richard-"
     "Don't you get it, Mrs. Cypher? Richard has made half a dozen foundries
money. They are  working now  only because  of Richard. He moves their goods
when they need them moved, not when they can finally get some asinine permit
with seals all over it. Richard  has,  by himself, enabled a whole string of
charcoal makers  to earn  a living supplying those  foundries,  along with a
number of miners and any number of other people. And me? Richard has made me
more money than I ever thought I'd make.
     "Richard  has made us all  rich by doing  something that is desperately
needed,  and  doing it better  than  others can do  it.  He has  kept us all
working. Not the Order and their committees, boards, and groupsRichard.
     "I've been able  to keep  men on because of Richard. He never  says  it
can't be

     done; he  figures a  way to do it. In the  process, he  has  earned the
trust of every man he deals with. His word is as good as that gold.
     "Why, even Brother Narev told Richard to do what needed doing to get me
the iron I needed. Richard told him  he  would. The palace wouldn't  be this
far along if not for Richard keeping everyone going with what  he  gets  for
us, when we need it.
     "The  Order  owes  Richard  a   debt  of  gratitude,  not  torture  and
punishment.  He has helped  the Order by doing what  they need  done.  Those
piers standing out there  would not be built yet, if Richard hadn't found me
the iron  to make the bracing  ties. Those carvings on the palace walls down
there would  not be done if he hadn't gotten  me the steel I needed to  make
the  tools to carve them. The goods down  there are only moved in  by wheels
turning on  iron  bands  I make  to repair them because Richard got  me  the
steel.  Richard has done more to raise that palace up out of the ground than
any other single man. Besides that, he's made friends doing it."
     Nicci  couldn't  make  it work  in  her head. It  had to  be  true; she
remembered that Richard had met  Brother Narev. How  could  someone make  so
much money,  help the Order, and have the people  he  deals with still trust
him?
     "But he has made all this profit. . ."
     The  blacksmith shook  his head  as if  she were a snake among them.  "
`Profit' is a dirty word only to the leeches of the world. They want it seen
as evil, so they can more easily snatch what they did not earn."
     The frown  returned  as the  blacksmith  leaned toward  her.  His voice
became as hot as the iron he worked.
     "What I want to know, Mrs. Cypher, is why  Richard  is in some stinking
prison being tortured to give  a confession, while his wife is standing here
acting a fool over him earning money and making us all happy and rich in the
process?"
     Nicci felt a lump  rising  in her throat. "I  can't pay the  fine until
tomorrow night."
     "Until I met you, I never thought Richard ever made a mistake." The man
pulled his leather apron off over his head and heaved it at the wall of  his
shop. "With that kind  of money, we  can bargain him out sooner. I hope it's
soon enough. Ishaq, are you with me?"
     "Of course. They know me. I'm trusted. I go, too."
     "Give me the money," the blacksmith commanded.
     Nicci dropped it into his upturned palm without even thinking about it.
Richard wasn't  really a thief. It  was a wonder. She  didn't know  how, but
these people were all happy with him. He made them all rich.  It didn't make
any sense to her.
     "Please, if you can help, I'd be indebted to you."
     "I'm  not doing it for you,  Mrs. Cypher; I'm helping a  friend I value
who is worth helping."
     "Nicci. My a is Nicci."
     "I'm Mr. Cascella he growled as he started away.
     --]----
     Mr. Cascella tossed  four gold  coins on the table in front of People's
Protector  Muksin. He  had  told  Nicci and  Ishaq that  he  wanted  to hold
something in  reserve so they could "pump the bellows" if they "needed  more
heat."
     The blacksmith towered over the man behind the  table. Several officers
put their noses to their work. The guards around the room all watched.
     "Richard Cypher. You have him. We're here to pay the fine."

     Protector Muksin blinked at the coins like a fat carp that was too full
to eat a worm.
     "We don't  assess fines until  tomorrow night. Come  back  then, and if
this man, Cypher, has not confessed to involvement in anything more serious,
you can pay then."
     "I work out at the new palace," Mr. Cascella said. "Brother Narev keeps
me busy. I'm here  now, so couldn't we just  take  care of this matter while
we're  all  here? It  would make Brother Narev happy if his  head blacksmith
didn't  have to  come all the way  over  here  again tomorrow, when I'm here
now."
     Protector Muksin's dark eyes turned from  side to  side, traversing the
crowded room of wailing people.  His chair chattered as he scooted it closer
to the table. He folded his stubby fingers atop a pile of tattered papers.
     "I would not wish to inconvenience Brother Narev."
     The blacksmith smiled. "I thought not."
     "However, Brother Narev would  not want me to overlook  my duty  to the
people."
     "Of course not!" Ishaq put  it. He swiped his red hat off his head when
the dark  eyes  turned his way. "Such  was not implied,  of course.  We  are
trusting in you to do your duty."
     "Who are you?" the Protector asked Nicci.
     "I am the wife of Richard Cypher, Protector Muksin.  I was here before.
I paid a fee to see him. You explained the fine to me."
     He nodded. "I see so many."
     "Look," Mr. Cascella said, "we have a lot of money for the fine. If  we
could pay it now and get Richard  Cypher out  today, that is.  Some of it is
money other people might not be willing to contribute tomorrow."
     The  blacksmith  slid  four  more  gold  marks  across the  table.  The
Protector's dark eyes looked unimpressed.
     "The money all belongs to the people. There is great need."
     Nicci  suspected that the great need was in his pocket, and that he was
holding out for more. As if to answer  the charge, Protector Muksin slid the
eight gold coins-a fortune by any standard of measure-back across the table.
     "The money would not be paid here. We have no use for it. We are humble
servants of the Order. The amount of the fine  would be noted in the ledger,
but you would have to deliver  it to a citizen committee for distribution to
those in need."
     Nicci  was  surprised that she  had  been wrong  about the man.  He was
indeed an honest official. This  changed the nature of  the  whole business.
Her  hopes  brightened.  Perhaps  it wouldn't be so difficult to get Richard
released, after all.
     Behind her, on the other  side  of the short  wall, women were wailing,
children were crying, and people were praying. Nicci could hardly breathe in
the stinking sweltering room.  She hoped that the official would be moved to
hurry the case so he could get to attending the matter of the small crowd of
guards who waited off in the side halls for papers and orders.
     "But you make a mistake," the Protector added, "if  you think money can
buy this man's release. The Order is not concerned with the life of one man,
for no man's life  is  of any real importance. I'm inclined to  tell you  to
keep  your money-until we can look  into why anyone  would have such a large
sum. I think this man must be disruptive to civil order if  he stirs up this
much  support.  No one man is any better than another. That  he can bring so
much money to bribe him out of his just punishment  proves my suspicion that
he has something to confess."

     His chair creaked as he leaned back to peer up at them. "It appears you
three would think otherwisethink that he is better than any other man."
     "No," the blacksmith said in an offhanded manner, "it's just that he is
our friend."
     "The Order is your friend.  Those in need are your concern. You have no
business  caring  for one  man  over  another. Such  unseemly  behaviour  is
blasphemy."
     The three of them before the desk stood mute. Behind them, the weeping,
the wailing, the panicked praying for those in the  darkness far below, went
on without pause.  Everything they  said only seemed  to turn the  man  more
against them.
     "If he had a skill, then it might be different. There is great need for
contributions  to the Order by those with  ability. There are many who  hold
back when they should  be  doing their best to contribute. It is the duty of
those with ability to-"
     It all came clear to Nicci in one blinding instant.
     "But he does have a skill," she blurted out.
     "What skill?" the Protector asked, not pleased at being interrupted.
     Nicci stepped closer. "He is the greatest-"
     "Greatness  is a delusion of the wicked. All men are the same. All  men
are evil by nature. All  men must struggle to overcome their baser nature by
devoting their lives  selflessly  to the cause of helping their  fellow man.
Only selfless acts will enable a man to gain his reward in the afterlife."
     Mr.  Cascella's fists tightened. He started to  lean in.  If he argued,
now, it would render the matter irredeemable. Nicci gave him a stealthy kick
with the side of her foot, hoping to convince him to be quiet and let her do
the  talking before it was too late. Nicci bowed her head as she retreated a
step, forcing the blacksmith aside without making it look obvious.
     "You  are wise, Protector Muksin.  We could all learn valuable  lessons
from  you.  Please forgive the  inept words of a  poor wife.  I am a  simple
woman, humbled and discomposed in the presence of such a wise representative
of the Fellowship of Order."
     Startled, the Protector said nothing.  Nicci had traded  in  such words
for over a hundred years, and knew their value. She had given the man, but a
petty  official,  a  standing in  the core  of  the Order-in the  fellowship
itself-that he could never attain. This sort of man would aspire to wear the
mantle  of social  merit.  To  a  man like this, to  be thought to hold such
intellectual  status was as good as earning  it;  perception was reality  to
such men. The perception was what counted, not the actual accomplishment.
     "What is this man's skill?"
     Nicci bowed her head again. "Richard Cypher is an undistinguished stone
carver, Protector Muksin."
     The men to either side of her stared in disbelief.
     "A stone carver?" the Protector asked,  lingerin