Page 39 of Throwing Fire

I glance at her. Lift an inquisitive brow.

“Granna was a Krister,” she reminds me. Which explains why Kez swears by the old god instead of Helas.

“Who’s doin’ the hangin’?” I ask.

“Friends, neighbors, loved ones. Any of the Faithful. They all carry the judgment of Helas in their hands.”

Fuck. “Mob rule. That’s why there’s no govvies.” I tap the rope against my palm. “Ain’t there anyone in charge?”

“Not in the way you and I would think of being in charge. There are figures of power within the religion. They lead prayer. But other than the prayer-leaders, there are very few exceptional individuals within the community.”

I drop the rope back onto the tray. Rub my hand over my chin. “No local strongmen?”

“I heard of a few but was unable to track them down. I formed the impression that they do not want to be found.”

“I can see why.” If their neighbors hang them when they feel they’ve gotten above their station.

Payton smiles. “For all that it sounds chaotic, Eastern Colony is a peaceful place. There is no crime to speak of, even in Kaliddy, which is a city almost as large as Tiv. The streets are clean. No onegoes hungry. There is none of the ostentatious wealth of the west, but there is also none of the poverty. The saying you hear most often in the streets is, ‘Helas rewards the faithful.’ Which I suppose is their way of recognizing the prosperity their hard work has wrought.”

“Perfect society,” I say. “If you don’t mind bein’ told what to do, how to think, and gettin’ hung by your best friend if you don’t follow the fuckin’ herd.”

“Eastern Colony is not a place for iconoclasts, Mister Snow. You would not do well there.”

My mouth twitches. “So you’re sayin’ there’s no market for product?”

“On the contrary, I would say that there is a substantial market, particularly in Kaliddy and the trading posts. The problem is distribution. Any supply chain Tyng Enterprises could establish into Eastern Colony would likely be short-lived, due to the aforementioned hangings. Moreover, there is the problem of collecting payment. Even in Kaliddy, most transactions are done by way of barter, so extracting our profits would be difficult. Unless you fancy taking payment by the bushel.” Payton’s smile turns wry.

I nod to show I appreciate her joke. “Speculate for me. Why would someone there want to kill a Tyng Xec?”

Payton slants those dark eyes at Kez. “A Tyng Xec, or Miz Kerryon?”

Kez lifts her brows but doesn’t say anything.

“Both,” I say.

“A Tyng Xec, I would guess that the motive isbellum sacrum. Tyng Enterprises, like any other corporation, symbolizesrashukto the Eastern Colonists. That’s their version of the divine enemy?—”

“Satan,” Kez says.

“Just so,” Payton confirms. “Although their religion does not, in general, condone holy war. It would also be unusual for them to leave Asdel, even for a chance to eliminaterashukin all its guises. I would have to think that the Xec had done something specificto antagonize or threaten the colonist. They are not, by in large, fighters. And certainly not assassins.”

That fits with them putting a tag on Kez’s head instead of going after her themselves.

“What would antagonize or threaten them?”

Payton shrugs, the wave of black braids cascading over her shoulder. “Eastern Colonists are motivated by the same drives as every other human being. Comfort. Safety?—”

“Plus their religion.”

Payton nods.

“What about Kez?” I ask.

“I have to think that’s personal. Unless you’ve done something morally offensive, Miz Kerryon,” Payton says with a smile.

“Every day,” Kez responds. “But I can’t remember pissing off anyone in Eastern Colony.”

I blow out a breath, irritated that none of the information Payton’s provided has gotten us any closer to identifying the threat to Kez. “Last question. You ever hear of anyone named Drogan?”