Hlanan said, “We must disembark now.” His brown eyes were distant, his expression pensive.
Wondering what he was afraid of, I said, “Still want that book?” I was poised to run, but twelve golders?
“Book?” he repeated, brow furrowing, then he nodded quickly. “Oh yes, Lhind, I do indeed. I thought you knew that. Tell me, shall you mind a somewhat hasty journey? Rajanas wishes to travel fast.”
“Well of course I’m used to kingly comfort,” I said promptly.
A rich laugh behind me told me that Thianra had heard. “You stay to help Ilyan,” she said to Hlanan, in Chelan. “I shall take Lhind with me to yon inn, and enjoy a bite and sip on firm ground.”
Hlanan gave her a relieved smile, and I wondered what was going on that was not being said. Hoping to get a hint from Thianra, I followed her to the inn she pointed out.
Once again she was dressed in a fitted minstrel-blue jacket and riding trousers. Her tiranthe hung in its embroidered cover (much finer than her own clothes), and below that, a simple knapsack.
One glass of tasty brown cider and a big cheese pie stuffed with wine-braised onions and tomatoes went down to warm the inner Lhind, but during that time I gained nothing from her aside from a respect for her story-telling ability. She talked a great deal, mostly about traveling.
Once or twice I sensed she was watching me for signs of familiarity with the places she mentioned, but she asked no direct questions, and she answered the ones I asked her with friendly ease and humor. I also saw those browny-gray eyes flick toward the door each time someone came or went, and I noticed her hands, when resting, in reach of where I guessed her weapons to be hidden, but her smiling face never changed.
The inn we visited was as colorful and varied as her stories: not just for gentry, though several fine-dressed people passed us by, nor just for harbor folk. People from several lands sat at the rough-hewn tables around us, even four Shinjans, noticeable for their pale skin and eyes, and though they didn’t actually have red hair, as most Shinjans are rumored to have, they wore red somewhere about them. The aromatic air was thick with the clatter of many tongues.
We were on our second glass, paid for with great cheer by Thianra, when Hlanan entered quietly and came to our table. “All the guests have departed.” He spoke in Chelan.
“Then we may do the same,” Thianra said. “Ready, Lhind?”
I looked from one to the other. “If we’re definitely still on for those twelve golders.”
“We’ll be planning that as soon as we reach our next destination,” Hlanan said, palm raised in the universal sign for I vow this is truth. Which I know is scarcely worth the air around it, but he hadn’t lied to me yet. That I’d caught, anyway.
Thianra and Hlanan led the way outside again. The yacht bobbed at its pier. Despite its furled sails, its long, low lines made it look as if it were still skimming over the water.
I paused in the yard and thought about how splendid the yacht felt moving under full sail, once I’d discovered the mast heads, and I wondered how one of these might be pinched. Maybe you could snaffle the boat, but how about the crew, dolt? Grinning to myself, I walked on.
Hlanan and Thianra stood before a high-slung carriage with four restive horses pawing the cobbled street before it. The carriage was newly painted an imposing black, and I recognized the device on the side as the same that I’d seen stitched on Rajanas’s tunic. Next to it an open chariot waited, with a matched team being held tightly in check by one of the stewards. Two high-bred horses, their reins held by other servants, danced and tossed their manes nearby. In back a big cargo coach, piled high with luggage, was also ready to roll.
Thianra and Hlanan stopped near the chariot, clearly involved in some kind of disagreement.
Thianra shook her head, and I barely heard her voice, using some language I remembered from long ago, but didn’t have a name for: “. . . entertain Kressanthe, and I have. I told you, I heard rumors of new Kitharee folk patterns up in Barsk, and I need to hear them myself—”
Hlanan’s voice was too low to make out as his back was to me, but I heard Thianra’s answer, “Hlanan, you know where my true interest lies. But just this once.”
“Thank you,” he said. I heard that much.
And they both glanced at me.
Did they think I didn’t understand them? I waved. They smiled, Hlanan friendly, Thianra more troubled.
Meanwhile, six men whose bearing and purposeful movement indicated they were warriors, despite the plain tunics like the rest of the servitors, mounted inside and atop the carriage. Rajanas appeared from the other side, waved languidly, and the carriage-driver cracked a whip. The horses started out.
The easy days of sailing plus a good meal had made me unwary. When a steely hand grabbed my shoulder, I jumped, then wrenched away and glared up at Rajanas. He tipped his chin toward the luggage coach.
The driver of this vehicle was a big, beefy-looking man with a rocky, scarred face and a purple nose. He had small, squinty eyes with an expression like a brick-pile falling on somebody’s head, but his bristly brows indicated curiosity. If I was to ride with him, maybe a suitable story would win his sympathy—
“Arbren,” Rajanas drawled, “this repellent scrap is a thief, hired for some obscure reason by the Scribe. I want those trunks to arrive in Imbradi intact. You are to see that he has no opportunity to inspect their contents.”
Arbren’s glance congealed into a glare that would have scared a weaker soul right off the coach. I contemplated cutting and running, but then Rajanas tossed me up onto the seat beside the driver.
“Haw!” Arbren gave a knowing guffaw that lost none of its sneeriness despite a complete absence of teeth.
Rajanas mounted the chariot, and Thianra climbed in beside him. Hlanan swung into the saddle of one of the horses, a steward mounted the other, and our cavalcade set out at a gallop.
SIX
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 throu
gh 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.