From somewhere beyond a tall stone wall horse hooves drummed in the pattern of a trot. I crossed a hedge and leaped to the top of the wall, lying flat, and watched a double column of gray-clad, armed riders gallop into the park.
Rajanas and the others had landed themselves into a nasty quagmire. Maybe it was related to the same quagmire we’d escaped before.
I slid off the wall again, and crouched behind a thick dark green shrub. Unrolling my bundle, I stared down at my wrinkled clothing. Grease stains, dirt, and the remains of many hastily-eaten meals met my eye; the herb-scented air of the park was overwhelmed by the odor I’d cultivated for a year.
Though I’d been perfectly content in those clothes until noon, I found that I was distinctly reluctant to resume them now. And they wouldn’t be safe, anyway. That traitor of a Steward had seen me before I changed as well as after, so the searchers would have both descriptions.
The alternative was a third disguise. My new tunic and pants were common for these parts. Assuming I could hide my tail and hair, maybe I’d get by. Except I still had my old problem: where to put my stash?
When in doubt, wear it. I’d learned that long ago.
Working fast, I separated into three piles my burglary tools, my take, and the bits of food I’d stashed. Remembering the variety of headgear I’d seen on the citizens of Imbradi on our ride into the city, I wrapped the tools tightly into a corner of the sash. I flexed my scalp and neck so that my hair twisted tightly into a knot on my head. Around this I wrapped the other portion of the sash, making a turban. The jewels and rings I strung on the cord from my old knickers, and I slung this around my waist inside the tunic. My tail had to go inside the trousers, my knife in my waistband, and I resolved to get a cloak as soon as I could.
Last thing, I buried the old clothes and the bits of stale food that I’d stashed. Though once I would have cherished every bite, I’d eaten so well these past few days that the mashed, dirty bits no longer looked appetizing.
I slipped over the wall and ran toward the town, hiding every time I heard a horse approach. Twice gray-clad warriors rode at a flat gallop either to or from the palace. And when I reached the city, I heard far off the shouts and metallic clashes of fighting.
The streets were nearly empty. Once again I’d be conspicuous, unless I went to ground, and quickly. But where?
I tried to think over what Hlanan and Thianra had said about this city. Not much. Tir! I squeezed my eyes shut and yelled in my mind. Tir? Where are you?
At once a flash of mental-image entered my mind: myself, seen from high above. I looked up in the sky, and just barely made out an indistinct bird-shape against the white of sailing clouds.
You are sought, came Tir’s mental voice.
Who? I sent back, ducking fearfully through an archway into a narrow street.
Kuraf seeks you. And these.
Again I ‘saw’ from the bird’s view: not one, but three separate search parties. Two were groups of those gray-clad warriors, one of which moved perilously near. I waited, crouching behind someone’s wash strung between walls, until I heard the clash and jingle of their mail and weapons as they marched by.
The smallest group comprised two men and a woman, who worked their way steadily down a street from the other direction. They stopped every so often to talk to the increasingly rare citizens passing by.
Question: were Kuraf’s folk friend or foe?
Tir?
Their words carry no danger to you.
This decided me in favor of the three searchers. Maybe Kuraf’s folk would give me some idea what was going on.
I vaulted the wall behind me and ran along it until I came to a low roof. Leaping onto that, I ran lightly over the rooftops, springing from one to another until I reached the end of the row.
Then I jumped down directly behind the three searchers. They whirled around, hands going to weapons.
“Looking for me?” I asked, reaching up to pull the turban free—taking care to keep hold of my tools still bundled in the sash.
They watched my hair cloud as from all sides a small crowd of people emerged from the shuttered houses and stepped into the street to ring us. One of the searchers bowed to me, and said, “Will you join us, Honored One?”
“Happy to,” I said. “Lead on.”
The three silently closed ranks around me; the people who lived on the street withdrew into their houses, shutting doors and windows. No doubt watching from behind the shutters.
Led by my new companions, I began a fast journey through the twisted, narrow streets of the inner town. I was soon hopelessly lost, and we moved too fast for me to try contacting Tir to find my position.
Abruptly we halted at a nondescript house in the middle of a row of such. One of the men remained on guard outside the door as the other two led the way inside.
We went up steep steps, and entered a small room with low furniture made with the same pleasing lines as that I’d seen in Rajanas’s palace, though this was much plainer. Two people waited quietly, a man and a woman. The man was young, the woman old. It was to the woman my guides turned.
“Here is the Hrethan. She comes freely.”
“Good.” The woman nodded, gestured to me. “We will have food brought, and drink.”
“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
The woman smiled briefly. “We wait for nightfall. Then we go to Kuraf. She will answer your questions—and ask you some, I expect.”
She stopped talking as someone brought in some steaming tea, and several plates of food.
They tried to make me comfortable; I was never really sure whether I was a guest or a prisoner. Somehow I was never alone and couldn’t try that door. And Tir had flown out of range of my thought-reach.
At nightfall we left again. Entering another house, we descended to a cellar. There, hidden cleverly in the brick, was a secret door. This opened onto a tunnel. Silently my guides led me into this, two before me and two following behind. While we walked in the utter darkness, I used the opportunity to tie my stash securely under my tunic, hoping it wouldn’t bulge when light found us again.
When we emerged into the cool night air, I smelled rain on the way. We stood in a thick wood, and horses were brought. Still in silence, we mounted up and then rode for some time.
I could see little of the path ahead. The darkness was not absolute but very near it. Still, we did not stop for quite a while, and that was only long enough for the lead rider to light a torch. By then the rain had begun, soft but steady. The cool, wet air woke up my tired mind, and excitement coursed through me. I tried hard to follow the sense of our path, but all I could see was the uneven red flicker of the hissing torch, and smoke streaming behind.
Judging by my horse’s labors, we rode a distance upward into mountains, then at last descended a narrow path into a valley. Steep cliffs blocked the clouds on either side. The rain had lessened by the time we dismounted, and I was bade to climb.
“Climb?” I repeated. The darkness was thick, and the torch had been put out.
“This.”
Rope, a rope-ladder, was put into my fingers.
“Up,” the anonymous voice added.
“Right.” Curious—and a bit afraid—I pulled my way rapidly up this rope-ladder, which went quite a distance. A breeze stirred about me as the ladder swayed, and my tail twitched instinctively.
“Here,” someone said, and I stepped onto a wooden platform, moving inward as those who’d followed me up the ladder crowded behind.
Then a spark was struck, a lamp lit, and I looked around in amazement at a series of platforms and ladders built into the branches of a mighty tree. Huge, broad leaves curtained the sides of the platforms; far above, the smaller platforms creaked and swayed in the wind. My toes spread and gripped, knowing their job by instinct, and my tail fretted at its confinement.
I found myself surrounded by about a dozen people, all observing me with various degrees of interest.
“Seem a bit like home?” one addressed me, a tall, strong-limbed woman with iron-gray braids bound closely about her head.
Caught by surprise, I tried to speak, but nothing came forth.
The woman laughed, a short, soft sound. “Never mind my rudeness, Hrethan. I’m Kuraf, and I never learned court manners. Come up, and welcome. We have much to discuss.” She stood aside and gestured to one of rope ladders. “What shall we call you?”
She’s not asking for a real name. “Lhind,” I said anyway, scrambling up the ladder to yet another platform. This one had a low wall built round it, and furniture made it comfortable. “This is wonderful!” I exclaimed as Kuraf appeared behind me. “No wonder Hlanan said he had fun when he joined your gang.”
Kuraf laughed again, and waved at one of the low pillowed chairs. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t, but in my experience you didn’t turn down free food just because you didn’t happen to need it right then. “What I am,” I said, “is confused beyond measure.”
The leaves rustled, and a white shape swooped down and landed on the back of a nearby chair.
“Tir!” I cried.
“Lhind help, Lhind help,” Tir croaked, walking back and forth and studying us from one eye then the other.
Kuraf studied the bird in return, her eyes narrowed. Finally she said, “I’m confused as well, I’ll confess.” She smiled. “Alezand spoke only a few words about you, but those were right curious. Add to that your not recognizing the style of this place, and add again the Scribe’s aidlar, who I’ll swear has never been far from him until this day. Let us essay this: I’ll ask you some questions, and then I’ll try to answer yours.”
“But first tell me what that Rot-faced, what Rajanas—that is, what your, uh—”
Kuraf burst out laughing, and this time it was real laughter. She clapped her hands on her knees and rocked back, strong white teeth gleaming in the lamplight as she crowed.
“It’s also the first time I’d wished I was away from my homeland, and aboard his pleasure ship when you were taken, young Hrethan,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “Your rot-face is the rightful prince of Alezand, the land we sit in now. He owes allegiance to Aranu Crown, and one might say that it was on her business that he and his companions were of late employed.”
“He did say Alezand was the land name and his title.”
She snorted a quick laugh, then said, “If you make it to the capital, and I’ll talk with you about that anon, you’ll find that these nobles address one another by their various titles. There’s insults and praise to be found in how they use their many names, young one, or merely in a bow, and the rest of us might study years and not always catch every shade of meaning, or innuendo, they intend. Enough on that. Those of us oath-sworn to the land of Alezand use his title proudly, for he’s been a good ruler.”
“All right,” I said when she paused expectantly.
“As for his words on you: ‘And we spent some goodly time chasing a small rat of a lying thief at the Scribe’s behest,’ he told me. ‘And it was goodly time because our thief turns out to be Hrethan, lost to her kind, and possessed of considerable sorcery. Saved us from a pirate attack that we now suspect was instigated by Geric Lendan.’”
“So Hlanan said. I don’t get that. Geric Lendan was with us on the yacht,” I said.
“Did you see him fighting?” Kuraf returned.
“N-no,” I said, thinking back. “That’s true. I didn’t. But I didn’t see that sniff-nosed Princess Kressanthe fighting, either. Several of those toffs on that yacht were hiding below, I think. I figured they didn’t know how to fight.”
“Lendan knows how to fight,” Kuraf replied. “He has a reputation for dueling, and winning. I haven’t met him—though apparently I came mighty close today. And that’s what we need to talk about.” She shifted position, stretching tiredly. “Nill! Some hot cider,” she shouted upward into the tree, then she looked back at me. “It’s been a long day, and looks to be a longer night. First, tell me what happened back there at the Residence. You did meet Prince Geric?”
I nodded, unsure how much to tell about that meeting. Long experience made me decide to skip over the fact that I’d robbed him, and I said merely: “He came out of that magic-Destination room, he and some warriors. They went into the other part of the palace and he blocked me off from the door and introduced himself. He ordered cider with liref, but drank the wrong cup.”
“Just drank it, eh?” Kuraf snorted a laugh.
“After I switched ’em,” I admitted. But she didn’t look surprised. “Anyway Tir told me to run so I hopped out the window, tried to disguise myself, and Tir led me to your searchers.” I pointed at the aidlar.
Kuraf smiled ironically. “That disguise didn’t last long: by now, I imagine, it’s all over the city how the silver-haired Hrethan dropped out of the sky. You’d have done better to have kept that hair covered.” She shrugged and rubbed her neck. “Ah well. What’s past is past—” She paused as feet appeared on the ladder overhead.
A thin boy not much taller than I descended rapidly, carrying a bottle and carved wooden mugs. He set these down, gave me a brief, curious look and a grin, then he scrambled back up the ladder again.
“My grandson Nill,” Kuraf said, jerking her thumb upward. “Apparently you met my daughter this morning. In the Guard. Granddaughter, Kee, you’ll meet anon.”
I remembered the friendly young woman who’d helped me onto the horse when we first entered the city. It seemed a week ago.
Kuraf poured out gently steaming pear cider into the cups, pushed one toward me, then said: “You want to know what’s toward. Here’s the simple version.” She paused to drink. “Lendan has taken Alezand. At least, he’s got us while he holds his highness as hostage. We dare do nothing against him.”
“Hlanan said something about you holding the city and Rajanas riding away. That was before he disappeared. The apple cider that they’d been drinking was full of liref,” I added. “I gather that this two-faced Steward Kenned did that.”
Kuraf pursed her lips. “Might have saved their lives, actually. I wonder if that’s what he intended all along?”
“What? You mean, Kenned didn’t sell them out?”
“He did indeed. But . . .” She frowned, staring into her cup. Then she blinked and shook her head. “Perhaps he’ll have his chance to explain himself, in time. The matter at hand is more important: Lendan came himself to supervise. We need to figure out why.”
Surprised, I said, “But isn’t it obvious? I mean, if you are going to throw someone out of his home and take it over, it seems only practical to oversee it yourself.”
“Maybe in the world of thieves. Not in the world of nobles and their games. Lendan is a kind of cousin to our prince. He would much prefer to appear to watching powers to be rescuing the situation, and holding it for his absent cousin—or dead cousin—after everything is settled.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Then let me put it more simply. Those mercenaries in the gray tunics with the hoods are the Wolf Grays of Thann, who some say were contracted by the King of Liacz—who has plenty of warriors of his own, though he is currently overreached—and the more disturbing rumor is that the contract was actually paid by Emperor Jardis Dhes-Andis of Sveran Djur.”
“Isn’t Sveran Djur a huge island somewhere in the western seas? Why would he want a bunch of soldiers here, paid or not?”
“Everyone knows he has designs on the fertile valleys between the mountains. Eventually he might even wish to challenge the empire, who knows? Back to our situation. They attack, and capture his highness, and hold Alezand. Lendan would then ride in leading a force wearing his colors, “defeat” them, and “hold” the land for his absent cousin. His friends at court know that he is in some wise allied with Dhes-Andis; his enemies at court also know that, but as he’s here under a semblance of legality, they can do nothing overt without causing a war, unless his highness appears and asks for help. Apparently Lendan made a public show of friendliness and kinship while on the yacht. To all appearances, he is Alezand’s ally.”
“That makes sense so far,” I said. “So why should it matter that Geric came early? Nobody but his toadies saw him—” I stopped.
“Except you,” she said wryly. “And you got away.”
“Oh,” I said, remembering those two parties of searchers. I took a big swig of pear cider. It was delicious, with a touch of honey and ginger root.
“Then,” she said, “there’s the matter of what brought Prince Geric here early.”
I remembered his words: You must find the thief, kill him, and bring me whatever he carried . . .
“Oh,” I said again, choking on my cider. I set my cup down and blinked my watering eyes, to find Kuraf’s shrewd gaze on me.
“And now we come to you,” she said.