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fibers clinging to her wet fingers had begun to look like silk. She rubbed
them dry in a comer of her shawl, then held them out for Walegrin to
examine. The breeze in the courtyard wasn't enough.to rustle a left or
turn a hair, but it was enough to lift the wisps out of her hands.
"Clean, clear, fresh water," Theudebourga said as her palms emptied.
"Anything less the schappe clings and the silk is ruined.
Wisps tangled in the stubble on the commander's upper lip. He
twitched, blew, finally caught them in his fingers. Softer than a whore's
breast, soft as silk . . . Walegrin twirled them between thumb and fore-
finger, and let them spin away. He began to suspect he was throwing
away a lot more than a few silver coins.
Wedemir interrupted again. "What can we do?"
Walegrin shook his head. The complaints they were getting about the
smell would seem trivial when the gutters started running with
Theudebourga's rinse water. He quoted from his mentor, Molin
Torchholder: "We're guardians of the welfare of the city, not the guard-
ians of any single citizen. There's nothing we can do." He turned to face
Theudebourga. 'Tm truly sorry, but you can't do this schapping here."
"But it doesn't last," Theudebourga insisted. "Only another day . . .
Once the schappe is gone we must spin it into floss, then the floss has to
be woven. Surely no one would complain about spinning and weaving?"
The commander shook his head. Beneath the tears and the pleadings
and the wringing hands, this woman had the same temper as his Enlibar
sword. Which, he decided, made it all the more important to stand firm.
"And when the weaving is finished, then you will sell the woven
cloth," he continued for her. "And with your profits you'll bargain for
more of this dross from the fish sellers. Then you'll make a bigger midden
572 STEALERS' SKY
. . . and a bigger midden again the time after that. And you'll say at the
prince's court of justice that you've always done it. The garrison came
and didn't stop you . . .
"No, my lady, you won't catch me like that."
"It doesn't have to be like that," Wedemir objected.
"Don't go taking her part in this. I know what I'm talking about.
When something's wrong, you stamp it out at the root. The longer you
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let it grow. the worse it gets." Walegrin continued to watch
Theudebourga. None of this would be happening if he'd done his duty
and impounded the damn donkey cart when he'd had the chance.
Theudebourga touched Walegrin's arm. "Please, don't abandon us;
help us. You know I can do this. I learned this in Valtostin from my
husband's family before the army came. We gathered broken cocoons in
the spring, but the silk we made was never so fine as this will be. You
believe me; I know you believe me."
Walegrin twisted away. It was easier to apprehend a murderer, or
examine a corpse, than deal with a determined woman. "All right, until
sundown tomorrow ... I can go along with that, but no weaving, no
spinning. When I come back here tomorrow night I want to find this
place empty. Do you understand, empty? If I can't report that I couldn't
find a trace of you, I will personally take all of you and your possessions
and your silk down to the Swamp of Night Secrets and leave you there.
Just one more day to stink up the air and poison the water, and then
you're gone, do you understand me?"
Theudebourga straightened her shawl and her back. "We understand."
Wedemir didn't, but he held his peace. He'd been a soldier long enough
to know the difference between hard bargaining and an order. Still, when
he and Walegrin were through the archway and beyond hearing, he de-
manded an explanation.
"Do you realize what you've done to them? Do you think this man,
Dendorat, will leave because they say so? He'll beat them, if he doesn't
kill them. And the silk . . . The silk is good. Commander. Don't we
care about what is good? They told me an officer must judge as well as
follow orders. What do I do when I judge my orders to be wrong?"
Walegrin stopped short. There was nothing friendly in his expression
when he faced the younger man. "If you're so concerned about right or
wrong you should have apprenticed yourself to the magistrates. We're
soldiers, Lieutenant Wedemir, we enforce the laws the emphasis goes on
force. No one loves a soldier. People don't think about us unless there's
trouble somewhere. At best, we're useful bullies."
There was an uncomfortable silence while Wedemir searched for words
WEB WEAVERS 573
that would not compromise him, or enrage the commander. "I guess it's
a good thing that you've only got a few more years."
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The commander resumed walking. They were at the harbor before he
spoke again, weighing every word and hesitation. "It is my silver sitting
in that midden, but that does not influence me; I counted it lost the
moment it left me. I am not without sympathy. There is no question of
the right of what they are doing, only that they are doing it in the wrong
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