Black Unicorn by Tanith Lee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

She remembered the unicorn with a shock of the heart. This imperfect world—

Bindat’s wife, Cuckoo, suggested that for the payment ofthree pennies, Tanaquil might spend the night in their outhouse.Tanaquil was exhausted and accepted. They had a long walk,however, to Bindat’s house, which lay behind the great marketand far from the beautiful avenue, in an area of slums. Here the dwellings leaned on each other to stay up, and rickety wooden bridges went over the streets, and washing-lines, from which,even as they passed, thieves were stealing the washing. Bindat andCuckoo even greeted one of these thieves warmly. They crunchedthrough open drains, frozen by night, and came to Bindat’s house. The outhouse was a hut with holes, white with frost.

Wood was stacked there, and it was busy with beetles. The peeve, leash off, spent all night chasing and eating these beetles, despite the bowl of thin soup it had shared with Tanaquil. In themorning, very early, Tanaquil learned that, in addition to thethree pennies, she must pay for her lovely night by sweeping theyard and milking the goat. As a child, for a treat, she had sometimes milked the goats at her mother’s fortress. This washarder, as the goat and the peeve had declared war on each other.

After a breakfast of burnt crusts, Tanaquil and the peevereturned with Bindat and Cuckoo through the hot and reekingdrains, and lamenting owners of stolen washing, to the bazaar.Tanaquil was delighted to find a queue of people waiting for herunder the marble lion: Word had got around.

At noon, Bindat came over to Tanaquil and told her in afriendly way that he would have half her earnings, as he andCuckoo had personally sent all her customers to her. As he spoke, Cuckoo might be seen cleaning a large knife at their stall.

Tanaquil did not argue. She gave Bindat half her coins. Whenhe was gone, she told her next customer she would be moving to the tents of the spice-sellers, whose smell had already attracted her.

Once she had returned all the previously mended things totheir guardians, she slipped away, and descended the terraces outof Bindat’s sight. Among the spice jars, at an obelisk with a stonefish on it, she sat down again with the peeve, and as she resumedher work, she watched the fish market below, and the blue sea that was greener against the harbor.

Once or twice during the night in the outhouse she haddozed. Then she had believed the unicorn poised outside thedoor, clean as black snow in the slum. But waking as the peevescampered over her in its hunting, she knew the unicorn couldnot be there.

Now she felt she was working in a set of condiments—thepepper and ginger, cinnamon and hyssop and anise, with thefishy salt of the sea.

The peeve sneezed and ate the baked joint she had bought it.Then it slept on her foot after its hard night, and her foot alsowent to sleep.

A shadow fell across Tanaquil as she was fastening the frameof a mechanical board game involving a lot of small porcelainanimals. She glanced up. Her new customers were three large

men. The central figure wore black and red clothing, and thebuckle of his belt was a gilded hammer crossed by a brass chisel.

He said ringingly, “I am Vush.”

“Well done,” said Tanaquil.

Around her, the chatter and frisk of the spicery had gonequiet. Everyone was staring at Vush and his two burly companions.“You don’t know me?” asked Vush. He had a terrible beard, which lurched at her as he spoke.

“I’m very sorry.”

“I am the Master of the Artisans’ Guild of Sea City.”

Tanaquil received an inkling of alarm. She grabbed the peeve’sleash at the neck. It was already practicing a snarl.“How nice to meet you,” said Tanaquil. “It’s a girl,” said the companion to the left of Vush. He

shifted, and Tanaquil saw his guild apron, and that he too had thehammer and chisel device, and a brass-bound cudgel.“Then,” said Vush, “she should be at home, not here caus ing trouble.”

“Oh dear, have I?” Tanaquil groveled.

Of course it was apparent what had happened. She did notneed Vush’s right-hand companion to announce: “Bindat re ported you to the guild. He says you charge half the going ratefor your work. All prices are fixed by us.”

“And you’re not a member of the guild,” said Vush. “Whichmeans you’re not allowed to work in the city at all.” “I didn’t know,” said Tanaquil. “You see, I come from thisbackward village—Um—and nobody ever said—”

“Give me that,” said Vush, pointing at the game.

Tanaquil thought, He’s going to smash it. Perhaps over my head.

Before she could make up her mind to let loose the peeve, Vush’s left-hand crony leaned down and skimmed the game away.Instead of hitting her with it, all three ponderously examined

its mechanism.

“Not a bad bit of work,” said Vush at last.

Tanaquil simpered. “Thank you.”

“We have no women in the guild,” said Vush. “You’ll have to join as a boy.”

“But you’ll have to join,” added the right-hand crony. “Orit’s the harbor for you.”

“You mean you’ll put me in a boat?”

“We mean we’ll drop you in the sea with lead sandals.”

“I’ll join,” said Tanaquil. “An honor.”

“The fee is forty weights of silver.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll have to get someone to sponsor you, pay it for you. One of the guild members may do so.”

“Then you’ll be in his debt.”

“You’ll have to work extra hard to pay it off.”

“You’ll need the guild, then.”

“Yes.”

The peeve reached out and aimed its claws at Vush’s expen sive boot. They missed.

“Come to the Guild Hall at sunset,” said Vush. “Anyone will direct you.”

“If you don’t come,” said the left-hand man, “we’ll come looking for you.”

“Too kind,” said Tanaquil.

She longed for one of Jaive’s spells, which, according to Jaive, would have transformed Vush and Company into frogs.

It was true that everyone seemed to know where to find the Guild Hall of the Artisans, or at least the people Tanaquil asked directed her without hesitation. The building stood on another fine street, bathed in the sunset, and its gilded pillars shone, and the