The cabin was dark when I woke, starlight glowing in the little window revealing a stone jug of fresh water. I drank most of it, then got up and stretched. Now was time to have a look around, without nosy servants, or mage-students, or scribes. Whatever Hlanan was.
I don’t care, I thought. I just want him and his questions out of my life.
I reached for the cabin door with one hand, the other going to the loop in my waistband where I kept my lock-picking tool, but to my surprise the door opened. I slid noiselessly out. The night was clear and warm, the stars pale lights overhead, and one of the moons lay in a golden crescent just above the horizon.
A couple of sailors noticed me, but went about their business. I spotted a wide hatch with the honey-hued glow of lantern-light spilling out, and ghosted near as voices floated through the open space.
Someone strummed fingers along the metal strings of a tiranthe.
The notes shimmered in the quiet air, high, down to low, sending an echo to shiver through my bones and sinews, down into my brain to stir very old memories that I still couldn’t quite reach. Once, surely, I knew music. Why else would it come so often in my dreams?
A flicker of brightness, no more—the Blue Lady holding out her arms to me—then the image was gone, like the sparkle of the sun on water.
The images wouldn’t come back, but the feelings lingered. I slipped down the stairs as if compelled by some spell, knowing it was stupid. There was no reason for all these useless emotions of sadness and longing.
A thief has no time for music. After all, you can’t steal it or spend it. I remembered the time, two or three kingdoms away, when I’d stolen a tiranthe. But when I got it to a place where I could try it, I found out fast that listening and playing are two vastly different things.
I laughed at the memory—but my feet wouldn’t move on.
A male voice joined the tiranthe’s glissades, a clear, warm tenor, and I oozed up to the open cabin door and peeked in. Lounging on a bunk, the center of attention, was that copper-haired fellow in velvet. The soft firelight made art of his fine cheekbones, the curve of his generous lips, the cerulean blue of his eyes as he sang a ballad in a tongue I’d never heard before, but as always the words formed into patterns, and the sense seeped in after.
Eugh! There I was, doing what I had vowed never to do again, admiring someone just because nature had been generous with his looks. But not with his nature. His single glance at me had been one of utter disgust, his humane suggestion that I (being offal) be tossed overboard. And here he was singing about love.
Love! Romance! Poets and bards all claimed love and romance were all-powerful as well as eternal, but really, what is either but attraction, as ephemeral as a sleet storm, and about as comfortable? No, attraction was more like a disease than a storm.
I recalled that contemptuous glance of disgust, the indifferent suggestion that I be tossed to my death, and turned away, but I couldn’t scold myself into a comparable indifference.
Somewhere, somehow, I had formed the belief that beauty ought to be joined to the qualities I thought beautiful: kindness, compassion, truth. I scrambled up the steps to the deck, but the melody pursued me as relentlessly as memory. Two inescapables, memory and music, as imperceptible and yet as powerful as any magical enchantment.
And both as untrustworthy as beauty, love, and romance.
Music, I could not make. Memory, I could not command.
There I stood, unable to recover my own past. The memories I could call up were mostly the kinds I’d rather forget, like a certain lantern-chinned player in the ancient city of Piwum, where—for the first and last time—I’d actually managed to earn an honest living, as a theater mage. My illusions made those plays look better than they sounded, until I found myself not watching my cues, but that one fellow, in hopes of gaining another smile in spite of my cowled, disguised self.
He was handsome, but also loud, arrogant, tight-fisted with a coin, and disloyal to everyone except his own comfort. But did I see that? No, all I thought about were his beautiful black eyes, the cleft in his chin, the rich and sonorous sound of his voice, and I found myself using my powers to steal little things for him (“Just little things, it hurts no one,” he said winsomely)—fine slippers and velvet cloth and gold ribbon for his hair—just to win a smile, to hear those pretty words.
I debated removing my disguise, just so . . . I never did define what was going to happen after that, except there’d be a glorious ending like the most romantic songs. Then, late one evening, I returned backstage to fetch my rain canopy and encountered him murmuring the exact same pretty words to the girl who sold fruit, before the two went off to be alone.
I left that city that night, and for the past three years, my strict rule had been to leave as soon as I learned anyone’s name.
So here was this beautiful blond nobleman warbling this song about a couple of witless people wasting their time longing for each other and letting other people and weather and things deal them nasty blows without their doing much about it, except complain in metered rhyme.
Beauty, pah! Love, faugh! Romance, I spit upon thee!
Glad to be completely disease free, I thought scornfully that my shimmers had more substance.
I retreated to my cabin to hoard up on sleep.
o0o
I woke up in the early morning when Hlanan entered with another tray.
My mood was foul.
Hlanan’s wasn’t. He grinned like he’d just heard a rare joke, and I wondered if that Rat-eyed Rot-Nose Rajanas was above putting some sort of mouth-frying spice in the food. I’d certainly do it to him, had I the chance.
“Good morning, Lhind,” Hlanan said.
Ignoring him hadn’t worked, because he studied me with even more interest than he had the day previous. I didn’t want to be studied any more than I wanted to be questioned. What to do? Ask the questions, and be as boring and annoying as possible.
“What are you laughing about,” I snapped. “We finally nearing the shore so I can get off this garbage scow?”
“I’m happy because my aidlar returned this morning.”
“What’s that?” I retorted.
“It’s, well, a talking bird,” he said as if I’d asked eagerly and politely. “It travels with me. Went off yesterday to find out where we are, so now we are able to steer in the right direction.”
“The wind picked up,” I said. I could feel it. The ship rolled as if alive. “It’s making me sick. Where are we, anyway?” I demanded.
“The storm blew us a ways north. The right direction, as it happens. We just outran the other ships we’d been traveling with. We should reach port by tonight.” He set the tray down before me, then sat on one of the trunks with the air of one who intends to have a good, long chat.
So I forestalled his questions. “How’d you and the Slime-Slurping Night-Crawler happen to be there when I did that spell after the chase, in Tu Jhan?” I whined, then jammed wheat-cake into my mouth and chewed as noisily as possible.
“Sli— ? Do you mean Rajanas? We were spending time in the marketplace, waiting for some of his party to finish shop-visits, when Rajanas saw you rob that unpleasant man in the yellow dyers’ smock. The man was bringing quite a bit of attention to himself, calling that apple-woman a cheat.”
“He’s the cheat,” I snarled.
“So that’s why you provoked a chase? To get him away from the woman? Is she a relation of yours?”
“She’s my great-auntie. She’ll be desperate, looking for me,” I moaned pitifully.
“She did not seem unduly concerned when the chase began. No doubt she had her reasons,” Hlanan said, his head tilted at more of an interrogative angle.
“Auntie counts on me being home soon’s I can,” I said.
“Home being . . .” He began.
“You don’t need to know where her house is.”
“True. Beg pardon.” Hlanan inclined his head. “Anyway, it was your taunts that intrigued me at first. You called him a . . . What was it? A stinking scum of a sweat-sack. I wondered if you were bidding fair to become the gutter-poet of Tu Jhan.”
“The what?”
“A reference to the Gutter-Poet of Akerik, who made himself famous in the Shinjan War. It’s a long story. You don’t read or write?”
“No,” I snarled, and then whined with as much affront as I could muster, “You did all these rotten things to me just because I mouthed that bullying dyer instead of cutting and running?”
“You sound outraged.” He grinned. “Well, partly that, and partly because you are so young. It made no sense, sorcerer’s apprentice and thief. Especially in Thesreve. I wouldn’t dare to do any spell in that country.” He gave me a quick, lopsided smile, but his gaze remained steady and observant.
“That’s exactly why I don’t want any more magic than the one spell I stole,” I said, and crunched into a piece of bread. “Yum!” Crunch, crunch, slurp, smack!
“Do you like being a thief?”
I shrugged. “It’s an easy enough life, if you’re fast.”
“Your family are thieves as well?”
“Yep,” I said. “Whole family. Both parents. Grams and gramps. Gotta get back quick.”
“Do you never spare a thought for those you steal from?”
“Ha, ha!” I laughed, proud of the spattering of bread I sprayed. “It’s always them’t never been hungry, who say that.”
Hlanan’s brow creased thoughtfully. “Who has said it to you?”
I shrugged again, sharper. “I never saw that anyone was the happier for being honest. Take Auntie! Honest, but still Yellow Smock cheated her, saying he’d protect her, but he didn’t. And as often as not she went hungry. So I decided, why not do something? It would be fun.”
“Fun? Even though you were pursued and your life threatened?” Hlanan’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you want me to think you have loyalties?”
“Because I don’t have any,” I retorted. “I do what I like. I go where I like—” I began, then remembered the invisible Grams and Gramps and family, so I moved on quickly, “Loyalty is weakness, setting yourself up for another betrayal.” I waved a slice of peach. “Loyalty to freedom, and fun, yes. Not to people. As for Yellow Smock, I robbed him because he’s a vile bully and a cheat and it was fun to make him bellow in front of the entire street. The old apple woman, that is, Apple-Auntie, she isn’t worth cheating because she’s got nothing worth taking.”
Hlanan leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees, and said again, “Why do you wish to deny you have loyalties?”
I snorted, louder than a den of slumbering drunks. “It’s the truth, for whatever that’ll getcha in gold.”
He tipped his head the other way. “To return to what you said earlier. As it happens I have experienced hunger, in a limited sense. I know someone who went hungry for longer, at much the age you are now. He worked to reverse the misfortune he’d been dealt.”
I grinned at him. “So he’s rich now, is that what you’re saying?”
“He has recovered his birthright—”
“Good. Then point him out, and I’ll do one lift without worrying about how he’ll manage if he goes hungry again.”
Hlanan sighed. “I’ve offended you. I’m sorry,” he said directly, rising to his feet. “I’ll go.”
“Where’ll I put this tray when I’m done?” I asked, suspicious at how easily he’d accepted his defeat.
His answering smile was as gentle as always, but his gaze had gone absent. “Take it down to the galley. Thanks.” He walked out.
As soon as I finished eating, I nipped to the cabin door and threw the latch. A fast search through the trunks disclosed a small hand mirror under a load of cloaks. I pulled it out and tilted it desperately, examining as much of myself as I could see.
I had to make certain it was really the magic spell that had caused this spate of questions. I didn’t want him finding out any of my secrets. It was possible he might guess I was really a female. That had happened a few times, as I couldn’t help my size.
In some kingdoms it didn’t matter, like Thesreve, in spite of the laws against magic. The secret that I didn’t want anyone to guess was what kind of female. That is, that I wasn’t like the humans that surrounded me. I’d not yet met anyone like me, and I’d learned the hard way that letting others see me as I really was brought nothing but grief.
I hadn’t seen my own reflection since the beginning of autumn, when I’d found these clothes. I’d been certain then that nothing was wrong. The weather was now warming toward spring, but plenty of men and boys were still wearing cowls that hid shoulders, neck and ears, and many of those wore caps over the hoods. In heatless houses it was the only way to keep warm.
My tunic was a plain, heavy, shapeless homespun brown—what little of it could be seen beneath half a year’s accumulated dirt and grease. I had sewn several pockets on the inside of it for quick stashing, and to fill out my shape. Underneath it I wore heavy black man-sized knee pants, which came down to my ankles. These were excellent for hiding bulky stash in. Below the knickers were my bare feet, coated as were my hands and face with brown nut-oil and weeks worth of grime. I turned my hands over, and found no challenge to the anonymous brown of dirt. So I tipped the mirror up and peered at my face.
An anonymous face, I thought. Small nose and mouth, like my short stature and thin frame, made me look much younger than I was, but what in that would cause interest? My eyes were wide-set, my brows dark with the nut-oil, and I’d seen plenty of people besides me who had eyes this same shade the color of honey. There were also plenty of people who had more of a slant to their eyes and brows than I did.
I threw the mirror back in the trunk in disgust. Who would have thought that doing one tiny spell would cause this much bad luck? Just count yourself lucky you weren’t seen by a Tu Jhan magistrate. I recoiled from the memory of the stake, and a figure writhing in the flames.
Time to stop this and go do some spying. Maybe you’ll learn something of use.
I returned the tray to the galley, swiping an apple on my way out in hopes that Hlanan would get in trouble for forcing me on board. Munching on the fruit, I returned to the deck and oozed along the gangway, keeping a wary eye for dangers—and Hlanan.
The wind had come up strong in the bright, clean air. Several sailors clung to yards high above, calling to one another as they unreefed the sails, which bellied out in wind-filled curves. Near the base of the tallest mast a grizzled man bellowed orders in a voice that would frighten a stone. Yet not twenty paces from him two well-dressed females stood at the rail looking out to sea, as if they were alone on a terrace at some castle. The sailors paid them no more attention than they paid the sailors.
When I was five paces away, the ladies turned from the rail, one’s skirts billowing out like the sails above. Their faces changed, and I laughed aloud at the contrast. The yellow-haired one in the fancy gown looked affronted, and ostentatiously drew away from me as if I was a giant slime bug. The short-nosed one was Thianra. She gave me a welcoming smile, and started right in with the questions. She had to be related to Hlanan!
“Good morning, Lhind. Have you ever been aboard a ship before?”
“No.” Since hers was an easy question, and she hadn’t forced me onto the yacht, I made her the sort of grand bow I’d seen some of the merchants give the Mayor on First Day of the Spring Fair. She laughed and made a dainty curtsey, incongruous in her unremarkable blue jacket and riding trousers. “And, good morning yourself.”
“Thianra, you aren’t going to speak to this revolting creature,” the other managed to drawl and sigh at the same time.
“He is a guest, Princess, as are we,” Thianra asserted gently.
“Next time maybe the pirates’ll take her with them, if she prefers their company,” I said promptly. “Would serve the pirates right.”
The princess gave me a sour look and stalked away. Thianra turned an observant gaze my way. “Princess Kressanthe isn’t usually quite so rude. She’s slept badly since that frightening attack.”
“No matter.” I made a grand sweep with one hand, dismissing the Princess of Pouters. “I’m sour myself, having been forced onto this yacht entirely against my will.”
“I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “It’s just the unlikely combination. Thievery, and Thesreve . . . ” She looked around. “And magic,” she added quietly. “Hlanan, who’s an old friend of mine, did tell me about that.”
“Thieves can steal a lot more than gold,” I said.
She tipped her head pensively, her air once again reminding me of Hlanan, though in every other way they were different: he tallish and slender, she medium height and roundly compact, he very brown, she with paler skin and lighter eyes. Well, maybe there was a slight resemblance in the fact that both had wide, thoughtful brows. “I think he wished to offer you a chance at a better life.”
The brow could be accidental, and so could the air of question, as well as their manner, as if we were equals. Disgusting as he was, I understood Rajanas’s behavior better, and beyond avoiding him I did not have to waste a thought on him. These two made me uneasy. “Hlanan’s related to you, isn’t he?” I asked.
Her brows arched in surprise. “Yes, but few know that fact. Can I ask you to keep it to yourself?” She was not only assuming equality, but trust.
I hated that.
But I liked her.
So I shrugged. “No harm done. I’m mum. Anyway, you won’t be seeing any more of me soon’s we hit port.”
She began to say something else when a shadow darkened the corner of my vision. I ducked, keeping my back to a mast as Thianra turned and smiled up at Rajanas. He’d come up as quiet as a cat. I oozed to her other side, keeping her between me and the Rotten Road-Apple.
“Hiding behind an unarmed bard?” he inquired pleasantly.
“Why not?” I retorted. “And she’s not unarmed, she carries at least one knife. Also, I wouldn’t have to hide at all if someone hadn’t forced me on this tub.”
His eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Interesting that you noticed. Few do.” I gulped inwardly, disgusted with myself, as he made a suave gesture. In annoyance I mentally priced his rings. That ruby alone would feed me for three seasons.
Thianra surprised me then by putting a protective hand on my shoulder. “Kressanthe has been complaining to you, has she not? Don’t be angry with Lhind. The princess was horribly rude.” I had no idea what game Thianra and Hlanan were playing, but at least their rules seemed to be fair.
“She has indeed,” Rajanas said. “But I guessed what had happened, and I stand more in her disfavor than this little thief does, for informing her that she got what she deserved. So I can hardly chastise him for angering her.” His tone to her after his words to me was like winter to spring. “So I am not here as executioner, but as emissary. Hlanan thought the boy might like to see the aidlar, and sent me to fetch him down.”
Thianra smiled. “Oh, yes. You’ll like Tir, Lhind. So beautiful, and very rare this far south.”
She walked away, but before I could run, Rajanas snapped out his hand and closed five steel-band fingers around my arm. In spite of his lazy air, he could move pretty fast. Disgusted with myself for not keeping well out of his reach, I went along without fighting.
When we got to the stairway leading below, he stopped and held me against the wooden rail so that I had to face him. He said in a low voice, “It’s clear you’ve a past. That doesn’t bother me. I’ve one as well. But understand this. There will indeed be no retribution for your conduct toward Princess Kressanthe, but I warn you against further baiting of her. You can contrive to stay out of her way until we reach port.”
I shrugged. He must have considered that agreement enough; he loosened his grip and with a mocking air of deference, indicated for me to precede him downstairs.