The Wizardry Consulted (Wiz, #4)(34)

“Gentlemen, I’m not sure this is practical.”

“It’s perfectly practical,” Dieter said. “You’re the one being impractical here.”

“We’ve built lots of walls,” Alfred put in. “It’s a well-known technology.” Dieter glared at him and the young man shut up.

“Look here, Wizard,” the councilman said, “you can’t say absolutely, positively this won’t work, can you? So what’s the harm in trying? It will put people to work, get money flowing and revive the economy. Besides,” he added slyly, “there’ll be something in it for you.”

“Gentlemen, I really don’t think . . .” Before he could finish there was a feminine shriek from downstairs followed by a male bellow of pain.

Down in the hall Pieter Halder was doubled over clutching his groin. Anna was standing with her back against the wall, her face scarlet and her skirt rumpled up against her petticoat. She looked up, saw Wiz and Dieter standing at the top of the stairs, turned and fled sobbing to the kitchen.

Wiz glared at Dieter and the little man backed partway down the stairs under the force of his gaze.

“Get out. All of you. Now.”

“She’s lying,” Pieter gasped, still clutching himself. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Tried to put his hand up her dress is all,” came Widder Hackett’s voice out of thin air. “Oh, if only I was alive and still had me magic!”

Wiz faced Dieter again. “You are here as my guests.” He bit each word off hard and sharp, advancing as he spoke so Dieter and Alfred kept backing down the stairs. “That will protect you for precisely ten heartbeats more. If you are still here you will be trespassers and I will deal with you accordingly.”

Dieter paled. “You can’t treat me this way,” he yelled.

“Five heartbeats,” Wiz said. “Four, three . . .”

By then all three of them were out the door, Dieter in the lead and Pieter limping doubled over behind.

“You haven’t heard the last of this,” Dieter shouted as Wiz slammed the door on them. “You’ll pay for this! I’ll make you pay for it!”

With a final glare at the door, Wiz turned and went down to the kitchen.

Anna was slumped over the kitchen table weeping. She raised her head as Wiz came down the stairs and wiped her reddened eyes.

“I’m sorry, My Lord, but he . . . And I didn’t do anything to provoke him.

I swear I didn’t.”

Seeing her shame and misery, Wiz was very glad Pieter and the others were out of his reach.

“I know you didn’t,” he said gently. “No, you did exactly the right thing.

I’m only sorry you didn’t hit him harder.”

Anna looked up and sniffled. “My granmama told me to do that whenever a man got, got too . . . forward.”

Wiz stepped toward her to comfort her and then stopped. The last thing she needed just now was to be touched by a man.

“You’re a very brave girl,” he said. “And your grandmother was a wise woman. Go on and pull yourself together. Take your time, and if you want to go up to your room and lie down, go ahead.”

Anna sniffled again and tried to smile up at him. “Thank you, My Lord, but I need to get dinner started.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, My Lord. I’ll be all right. Really I will.”

Wiz left her in the kitchen and came back up to his workroom. All the while Widder Hackett carried on a monologue about young Halder’s moral shortcomings. Clearly it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and apparently Widder Hackett had made a hobby of collecting gossip about his misdeeds.

He had barely gotten settled when Malkin came striding in. “I met the shrimp and a couple of his flunkies on the street,” she said. “He was in a worse mood than usual and that miserable nephew of his was walking like he’d run into a banister.”

“It wasn’t a banister. It was Anna’s knee.”

“Like that, eh?” the tall woman shrugged. “Serves the copulating little swine right. She’s not the first skirt he’s tried to lift unwilling.”

“So Widder Hackett has been telling me.”

Malkin nodded. “Aye, she’d know. The old cow was the biggest gossip in the town. She must have kept records of everything everyone did.”

“You thieving little strumpet!” Widder Hackett rasped.

“Careful,” Wiz said to Malkin.

“She was an old busybody and I’d tell her so to her face.”

Wiz looked around the room. “I think you just did.”

Malkin snorted. “So what? She’s dead and she can’t touch me.”

“Why you little guttersnipe!” Widder Hackett roared. “You’re a fine one to talk, what with . . .”

The ghost went on for some time and in some detail. In the middle of it Wiz discovered that putting his hands over his ears did absolutely nothing to block out her voice. Malkin watched his antics with some amusement.

“Anyways,” she went on when Widder Hackett finally ran down into a mumble, “you’ve got bigger things to worry about. That half-firkin councilman is going to hold it against you no matter how much provocation his pig nephew gave the girl.”