It soon became fairly obvious that Arbren had at some point during the day imbibed a goodly quantity of ale and he apparently had not sullied its purity with any food. For a short while he treated me to what he considered to be his rare wit, dredging up a lot of stories about what happened to thieves he’d helped to catch, or had seen caught. I think he made most of them up. I don’t care how practiced the town executioner is, people’s ears do not stretch out so one can tie them into a knot.
At any rate the sun beat down upon us, making my head and neck warm and sweaty. Arbren had recourse to a very aromatic flagon that he did not offer to share. His purple nose got more purple, and after a time he fell silent, squinting between the plunging lead horses as if he had a lot on his mind. Like the weight of a good-sized headache. Settling back on my seat, I silently wished him well of it.
We rolled through increasingly wild country, scarcely checking our pace at turns and crossroads. The grassy hills gave way to rocky inclines, streams and then patches of thick forestland. We passed two or three villages, stopping once to change horses, then again, much later, when a white shape appeared overhead, cawing and flapping.
Hlanan’s horse caracoled as the Scribe hailed the bird. Rajanas signaled a halt, bringing his chariot up. Slowing our heavy coach, Arbren muttered an oath under his breath. I hunched down, ready to clap my hands over my ears (as if that would keep its thought from invading mine), hoping the bird would not see me.
But the bird never looked my way. It cawed at Hlanan, fluttering its wings in agitation. Hlanan edged his horse near the chariot, and bent down to talk to Rajanas.
After a short colloquy, Rajanas turned our way. “Arbren! Pass Khiam. We’ll ride until nightfall, and chance a roadside inn.”
We rolled at once, Arbren muttering under his breath about blighted birds giving all the orders, and if a body is looking forward to the ale at the Helmtree in Khiam he has a right to be getting it.
Rajanas signaled for a much slower pace as these horses would not be changing at Khiam. Even so, somewhere along one of the sharp turns through a wooded area we lost sight of the third coach.
This didn’t bother me in the slightest, but it apparently perturbed Rajanas, whose glances backward toward the empty road became more dire.
It was just before nightfall when he and Hlanan apparently decided the horses had had enough. For some little time I’d been hearing the horses’ thoughts getting steadily more tired, and I sensed the animals nearing danger. I’d learned long ago that horses are the kind, like dogs, who will run until they die, if that is what pleases their human masters. Which is why I’d seldom risked making friends with horses.
These were not near death but they were tired and desperately thirsty. Just about the time I began wrestling with the prospect of having to make the horses’ need known—without letting on how I knew—we drove through a village, and on its outskirts neared an inn half-hidden under a copse of very old trees.
Rajanas flung up his hand again, his fingers pointing into the brick-paved courtyard, and even Arbren muttered with unfeigned gratitude as our diminished cavalcade pulled in, slowed, and stopped, the horses blowing and steaming.
Stable hands ran out, some bearing streaming torches, and Rajanas stepped down from the chariot, apparently sublimely unaware of being as mud-spattered and wind-tousled as I on any of my worst days.
I peered through the gloom at the long, rambling building with its ivy-covered brick facade. It was one of those places only those with coin, and plenty of it, could stick a nostril into. No thief markings anywhere in sight, which didn’t surprise me. Some toff places would assiduously scrub off any markings, even warnings, as a deterrent.
All the windows had good, broad glass, not the pattern of tiny, warped and rippled panes you usually saw. I decided if I was not to spend the night hungry outside (for in these places even the stables are guarded, much less the food) I’d have to stay close by Hlanan.
The innkeeper came out himself, drawn no doubt by the commotion that indicated a customer of means. He very quickly picked out Rajanas as the target for his blandishments, and bowing and smiling, he offered everything he had as his “poor best.” I disliked this man on sight. I knew him immediately as the type of falsely humble innkeep who would rather burn scraps than allow hungry vagrants, such as myself, a chance at them.
As Arbren busied himself bullying the stable hands who were even busier taking care of the animals, I hopped down and drifted near Hlanan’s side, keeping him between myself and Rajanas. Just in case.
“. . . and we boast well-appointed bedrooms. Adequate, I trust, for your honors. I will send someone up to light the fires in all the rooms, if that is your wish, and we will serve supper within the hour . . .” The innkeep’s round, shining face, tucked with the dimples and lines of a very broad smile, never turned away from Rajanas as he led the way upstairs to a private dining room.
“Don’t bother with fires in the bedrooms. It’s not winter. But we’ll take the food as soon as is possible.” Rajanas waved carelessly at him and walked off to talk to Hlanan.
The innkeeper took this airy dismissal with an even bigger smile, and bowed to Rajanas’s back, then to Thianra, who said, “I should be glad to play for the company, if you wish. No charge.”
The innkeeper smirked and bowed, and utterly ignoring me, turned to leave. In fact, he ignored me so completely I was able to see the smile drop from his face like an extra skin from a snake.
I retreated to a corner near a cheerful new fire to wait and watch. If that innkeeper served the food then I was going to wait till someone else tasted it before I ate any. And I hoped that if it was poisoned, it would be Rajanas who found out. Either him or Arbren.
A servant appeared with a tray of cold punch and three glasses. Rajanas poured out the punch, handing a glass to Thianra.
“Thanks,” she said. “A sip or two, then I will fetch my tiranthe and tune it. I offered to play.”
“That gives us an excuse to sit in the common room,” Rajanas said. “Maybe we can overhear something of interest. Can you sense them with that thing?” he said over his shoulder to Hlanan.
“It doesn’t work that way.” Hlanan was studying a dark-stoned ring on his finger, a pucker of disquiet creasing his brow. This was the first time I’d seen him with any sort of ornament beside the cheap-looking ring he wore on his smallest finger. After a long pause he looked up, smiling a little as he accepted the glass of punch Rajanas held out. “No sign of them,” he said.
“I mislike this train of events.” Frowning, Rajanas sat at the end of the table, and Hlanan and Thianra took chairs on either side. I crouched on the hearth, making no noise, and wondering when I might snitch some of that punch. I was thirsty, and I could see that the punch was nicely chilled. Moisture-drops formed on the sides of the heavy jug.
“First those accursed pirates singling us out for an attack,” Rajanas said, “just after we happened to get separated from the rest of the convoy. Second, their having managed to sneak up on us so neatly through that fog without the slightest warning.”
“I apologize for having fallen asleep,” Hlanan said. “I could have determined if the fog had been raised by magic.”
“Coastal fog banks are normal this time of year.” Rajanas shrugged. “You remember. And now this quiet disappearance of my supposed entourage, both on the road and by magic trace. Maybe I’d better ride back tonight and see if I can find them.”
“If six of your Guard fell afoul of someone I don’t think you’ll be able to do much besides provide a bigger prize,” Thianra said. “Hlanan or I should probably go.” And with a sigh, “I suppose I may as well, though when I think I could be halfway to sitting around a campfire listening to Kitharee tritones . . .” She sighed, glancing toward the door. “Which room is which? I want to find where the servants put my tiranthe.”
Hlanan said, “I wish Tir had a bigger vocabulary.” He glanced toward the window, and murmured in a softer voice, “I wonder where Tir is.”
Rajanas didn’t seem to hear that last. “I am the one Geric surprised in the act of inspecting the ship-works at Jira-Jirai. It is possible he believed my tale of having another racing yacht built, but only if he thinks I’m stupid enough to mistake warships for pleasure vessels.”
“Unless he knows that Dhes-Andis is having those ships built,” Thianra put in softly. “Which means he was there precisely to see who might want to take a look at them.”
“But he could not possibly have arranged an ambush so rapidly, either this one or the pirate attack,” Hlanan protested. “He was on the yacht with us. We saw him off scarce moments before we left ourselves, and Keprima is no more his territory than it is yours.”
Thianra shook her head. “The more I consider, the surer I am that it was not whim that brought him aboard your yacht, any more than he was there to court Kressanthe.”
Geric. Wasn’t that the tall, handsome fellow on board the yacht, the one with sapphires bound into his pale apricot hair?
Then I thought about all these mentions of Dhes-Andis. Everyone in the world knew of the wicked sorcerer-king of Sveran Djur. Was he mad at these three for some reason? I got that neck-gripping chill of danger. If my theft job had anything to do with that sorcerer, even twelve gold pieces wouldn’t keep me from running.
Thianra added dryly, “I did put a great deal of effort into deflecting him.”
“Unless he suspects that you are more than just a minstrel,” Rajanas said, saluting her with his glass.
“Then he would be quite wrong,” she retorted, but she was smiling in a way that made it clear the suspicion was nothing new.
Hlanan prowled along the wall to the window and back to the door as he said, “Then there’s Kressanthe, who may be as stupid as she appears, but who is certainly rich enough and vindictive enough to aid anyone who wants to make mischief. Which puts us back to our question: which of them is the enemy this time, and which of us the target?”
Thianra said, “Geric Lendan cannot possibly have traveled any faster than we have.”
“What worries me is why Geric never commented on the magic Lhind did, and I remember how interested he was in magic . . .”
I got that stomach-dropping feeling, like missing a step one hadn’t known. Only in this case, I’d missed a danger I hadn’t suspected.
“. . . and how angry when the Council of Magicians turned him away and refused to teach him.” Hlanan rubbed his eyes, looking unhappy. “Well, I just hope Dhes-Andis isn’t involved, that’s all.”
Rajanas shook his head. “If he’d marched on Alezand we would have heard about it in the harbor.” He smiled. “Despite its modest size he’d have no easy victory. Kuraf would have seen to that, if everyone else had failed.” He leaned forward and struck Hlanan on the shoulder. “Cheer up! You’re too tired, and you’re seeing shadows brandish knives. You and I have been in much tighter spots than this one.”
Hlanan shook his head. “Maybe it is just tiredness, but I feel warning all about me.”
That makes two of us, I thought, edging close to the table. The punch jug sat untouched near Rajanas’s arm. Perhaps they were too tired and hungry to drink much, but I was thirsty.
Hlanan went on slowly, “And while it’s true we’ve been in tighter spots, somehow it was easier then—”
Rajanas gave a crack of laughter. “If you think sweating our bones out for that shark-teethed Shinjan taskmaster was easier, you must be tired.”
“But then I was responsible only for myself.” Hlanan stared down into the fire.
Rajanas and Thianra exchanged a look. Rajanas’s expression wasn’t scornful or even disinterested and amused. I was surprised to see concern shaping his steady gaze, in his softened mouth.
Then Thianra brought her palm down flat on the table. “All right,” she said. “I’ll stay with you until Imbradi, then either you go to Court, Hlanan, or I. Someone has to report all these disparate signs. If Dhes-Andis is involved with any of our recent bad luck then all three of us are marked anyway.”
“I’ll keep trying to signal your Guard,” Hlanan said as he slid the ring off his finger and dropped it into a pocket. “I’ll try again anon. As soon as Tir comes back. Perhaps I’ll be less tired after a good meal.”
“Where is the aidlar?” Rajanas said, looking up—just as my fingers snaked out and made the pinch.
I backed away hastily, raising the jug to my lips for a hasty swig. His expression went from intensity to surprise, and I think he was going to laugh, but he never got the chance.
The door slammed open. In dashed warriors with drawn swords. Their leader paused for the barest instant, then headed straight for Rajanas.
As if released by a spring, my arm snapped out. The jug sailed through the air and smashed squarely on the leader’s helm.
“Good throw, thief!” Rajanas called, and laughed. He sent his chair skidding in the way of the attackers and whipped sword and long knife free of their scabbards.
The leader staggered back, ignoring the ceramic shards and punch all over his mail-shirt. His lips pulled back into a snarl. “Kill that one,” he ordered, pointing his sword at me. “The other three we take alive.”
Warriors converged on us, blades menacing. Rajanas and Thianra (who had pulled out two long knives) spread out so as not to interfere with one another’s defense. Thianra placed herself before Hlanan, who was not armed.
Hlanan cupped his hands, muttering fast. Fire formed into a glow above his fingers. A harsh voice croaked something, and a curtain directly behind Hlanan ripped as a hereto hidden door slammed open. The warriors had spread in a circle, and one dashed in and smashed his fist across the back of Hlanan’s head half a heartbeat before Thianra’s knife came down on his arm. The Scribe, who’d been involved in some kind of incantation, staggered. The soldier warded Thianra with his shield and clouted Hlanan again with the hilt of his blade.
Hlanan slumped as Thianra, fighting desperately against three foes, blocked him from my sight.
A soldier headed my way purposefully. I shoved my shaking hands into my waistband for my knife, but a kind of swift, sick certainty stayed my hand: in the past I’d used my blade only for escape, or for dramatic effect. I’d never been able to kill any living creature. I knew these fellows would not be stayed by the brandishing of a blade—so I decided desperately that it was better off hidden.
But I had to act fast. I leaped to the table, and when the soldier jerked back, startled at the height of my jump, I kicked his elbow with a whack that cracked on the air. Pain shot up my leg but he dropped his sword, and I spun around, grabbed up the punch tray and swung it, just in time to deflect a blow aimed at the back of Thianra’s head.
Smash! Everyone looked up when Rajanas crashed a chair into two warriors. Wood splinters flew in all directions. Five warriors tried to hem him in, but his whirling blades kept them at a distance.
A blade whizzed at my knees. I leaped, somersaulted down the table and came up with a punch glass in either hand. I potted the warriors nearest, clapping as the glasses shattered on their helms.
“Ho! Hey!” I yelled.
Ze-e-e-em! A blade cut the air beside my head. I flipped backward, landing on my hands, and used the momentum to kick both feet into the swordsman’s chest, sending him crashing back into another soldier. Then I flipped again, landing on the floor as they fell in a tangle of arms, legs, weapons and chairs. Two more converged, I leaped again, kicked a helmed head and spun past a waving blade.
“Oh, good one!” Thianra gasped, backing desperately from the pressing attack.
Behind her, Hlanan lay on the floor, his hands limp. Anger flushed through me. Ranging myself beside Thianra, I sent the third glass at a soldier’s face, wishing the innkeeper had brought up more food.
Why waste it on the betrayed?
That was old instinct, you could say my head. Fast as lightning flashed an answer from my heart: Because I like them. I didn’t have time to scold myself for a sentiment that no one felt for me, because—
“Kill the beggar!” the leader roared. “NOW!”
Rajanas’s blades, whirling vertiginously, disarmed two warriors in a row, and he leaped toward us. “Out,” he shouted at me, his chin jerking toward the window.
I stayed at my place beside Thianra, trying not to get in her way as she fought against yet more converging attackers. They were closing in steadily, though as yet her speed and skill kept them at a distance. A big, burly fellow rushed me. I met his knee with my heel and ducked under his arm, jabbed my fists into a broad belly on another, and leaped clear over the table, just barely avoiding a deadly arcing blade.
Pausing beside the window, I looked back in time to see Thianra step back to avoid a hard swing, and stumble over the remains of a chair. Two warriors landed on her.
The rest advanced toward Rajanas, too many for me to do anything against—
I’m the one with a death sentence. I smacked the window wide and whirled through, scrambling onto the low roof. A running few steps, then I was high into one of the big, shady trees.
A shimmer! I thought then. Of course! But what? An army of hideous ghosts? Or . . .
Through the open window below I heard a mighty cheer from the soldiery. I knew what had happened: they’d finally brought Rajanas down. I was too late.
So there I was, safe in a tree, and the people who’d taken me prisoner were now prisoners of someone else.