A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) (22 page)

"Yes, Lady. I remember," Owl replied with flat politeness.

"I may have spoken too soon. Rhydev Azhere would pay a lot of money for you—
a lot
of money." She watched his face closely, saw his spasm of dread. "Wouldn't you like that?"

"Why?" Owl's question was faint as a breath.

Her smile reminded the boy of Elkhar—the same feral eagerness. "I don't trust you, boy. You're too clever. Clever tools make me uneasy. Come here. Give me your hands."

The Lady saw panic flash across Owl's face. As he struggled with the too-long sleeves of the robe, she reached over and imprisoned his wrists. At her touch, his face went stiff. She set his forearms on the table before she peeled back the extra inches of sleeve to reveal each hand. His left was clenched. She tapped it imperatively. When he opened his hand, the Lady caught her breath. In his palm lay an opal the size of a wren's egg: of blues darker than midnight, its heart of fire glinted, elusive, in its depths.

"Where did you get that?" the Lady demanded.

"I found it on the floor in the library," Owl lied. "It must have fallen off the
khacce
table; but it was so pretty I... Lady, I meant to put it back."

"That never came from my
khacce
table, boy," she said, holding out her hand. "Give it to me."

For a heartbeat, it seemed Owl would refuse. Then, resigned, he dropped the stone into her outstretched palm. A brilliant flash of scarlet made the Lady blink, bemused. Then she shrugged. "I suppose since you found it, there's no harm in your keeping it." She gave it back. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"You wanted him immediately, Lady," Myncerre offered.

"Of course." She was silent a moment longer, then she lifted the coffee pot. With a moue of irritation she set it down again. "Take him away, Myncerre; and have the kitchen send up another pot of coffee."

In the hallway, Owl and Myncerre exchanged looks. "Does she mean to sell me to Rhydev Azhere?" Owl asked, troubled.

Myncerre hunched one shoulder. "She only meant to frighten you. Owl, what did you have in your hand—and where did you get it? You didn't stop to pick anything up."

He showed her the stone. "Someone put it into my hand last night while I slept."

Myncerre smiled ruefully. "I wonder where Cithanekh came by such a thing. It's beautiful, Owl."

"You won't tell the Lady?"

The steward made a dismissive gesture. "I doubt she'll ask me. Go dress, lad; I must stop in the kitchen."

When he reached his quarters, he found Cithanekh, pacing anxiously. The young lord smiled at the sight of Owl in the borrowed dressing gown. "It's rather too large," he remarked.

Owl managed a smile. "I'm relieved. I thought I'd shrunk in the night."

"What did the Lady want?"

"She threatened to sell me to Rhydev Azhere: Myncerre said she only meant to frighten me." Cithanekh frowned; to forestall comment, Owl shook one hand free of its sleeve and touched his friend's wrist. "I need to talk to you," he breathed. "Is it safe?"

The young lord considered. "Keep your voice low; we'll act as though I'm comforting you. All the guards know what happened. It shouldn't cause any comment."

Owl nodded faintly. "Cithanekh, I—I dreamed last night."

With a wordless protest, the young lord wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"It wasn't awful. My visions were full of...of music; and then, the Windbringer came."

"The
Windbringer
," Cithanekh whispered. "How did you know it was she? Is that why you asked me her ancient name?"

He shook his head. "I asked you her name because I wanted to try to summon her; I didn't think she'd answer me, but—" His eyes filled, suddenly, and he struggled to whisper around tears. "
Someone
must avenge K-Kitten, and I don't see how I—I can. Anyway, she answered me. And she—she wanted to know about K-Kitten. It—it made her weep. And then she said, 'The sacrifice of children must not go unsung, nor unavenged.' And she gave me this." Cautiously, he opened his hand between them, so that Cithanekh might see the stone, but any watchers in the walls would not. He caught his breath, then, for the stone was different: the blues and greens of summer sky and sea; the fire in its heart gold, instead of brooding red.

Cithanekh's long fingers touched the stone, wonderingly, though he made no move to take it from the boy.

"It changes color," Owl added. "It was darker when the Lady looked at it."

"The La—She let you keep it? You didn't tell her about your dream?"

"No, I told her I found it on the floor in the library. I don't think she meant to let me keep it, but—and this was really odd—when she took it, it flashed red, and she acted confused, as though she couldn't remember what she was doing. She sent me away to dress before I'd have said she was done with me. Oh," he added, a little guiltily. "I
implied
to Myncerre you'd given it to me; I said someone slipped it into my hand while I slept. She assumed I'd meant you."

Cithanekh ruffled Owl's hair; then, conjecture and worry gathered in his eyes. "Owl, how much control do you have over your visions?"

"Over the visions, none, really; they just come. But—" He leaned toward Cithanekh, who gathered him into his arms so that Owl could whisper into his ear. "I can speak mind to mind, a little, with Arre and Kerigden."

The young lord drew back so he could see Owl's face. He bit his lips as he studied the boy.

"Have I frightened you?" Owl breathed, his eyes brimming with tears.

Cithanekh brushed his face, lifting his chin so he could look into Owl's eyes. He smiled crookedly. "A little," he admitted. "It isn't everyone who can converse silently with witches and priests—not to mention Talyene." At the name, the stone in Owl's hand blazed briefly with a multitude of joyful colors. They exchanged awed glances. "It knows her name," the young lord whispered, shivering.

"Don't be afraid of me," Owl pleaded. "Cithanekh, I need you." The tears spilled.

Cithanekh brushed them away, gently. "My dear, amazing Owl," he breathed. "I'm not afraid of you; but I am terrified
for
you. Ycevi would never let you live if she knew the extent of your gifts."

Owl nodded, but his tears didn't stop. After a moment, Cithanekh gathered him into his arms and held him.

Chapter Twenty-three—Stratagems

The Temple of the Windbringer looked very different, Squirrel decided, by daylight. For one thing, the imposing marble steps were crowded with people; well-to-do worshipers, and priests and acolytes in the gray of the sect, streamed purposefully in and out. No one took much notice of the three ragged children, until Donkey caught the gray sleeve of a tiny old woman and said, "We'd like to see the High Priest."

She fixed him with a penetrating dark gaze and said, "Are you Donkey or Squirrel? He said to expect you."

"Donkey," he replied. "These are Squirrel and Mouse."

She nodded greeting at them, then led the way up the steps,

through the main sanctuary, and along a narrow corridor to a closed door. She rapped, and when the door was opened, she gestured the children inside.

Ferret was there, leaning over the shoulder of the dark haired woman Squirrel had guided to the Trollop on Ythykh-Fair. The woman was unfurling a roll of papers on the table. Beside her was Mouse's nobleman, and across the table was the red-haired Windbringer High Priest. The thief's head came up as the door opened, and almost before her friends had begun to move into the room, she had come around the table toward them. They flung themselves at her, and she gathered them into a hug which was more of a huddle. The contact made her eyes fill. She blinked hard, unready to indulge her grief. "Sharkbait?" she asked, noting who wasn't present.

"He had to help Arkhyd dispose of a body," Squirrel said. "He said he'd be along."

"Whose body?" Ferret demanded, but before they could begin the tale she said, "Wait. Introductions: Mouse, Squirrel, Donkey; Arre, Venykhar, Kerigden. Now, come sit down and tell us the whole."

Donkey related the events, warnings, and conversations while Ferret and the others listened attentively. When he finished, there was a short silence.

"In light of what you've told us, Donkey," Kerigden said, "I would like to know whether Dedemar has reported for duty, or not." He rang a table cymbal, and sent the person who answered off on the errand.

After the messenger left, Arre said, "On our side of events, Kerigden and I have tried to teach Owl how to control his Sight Gifts; we've touched Owl's mind, and together, we might be able to do it again. And Khethyran has made us a map—granted from an old source, so perhaps not entirely accurate—of the secret passages and spyholes in the Palace."

"Are we going to spy on the Ghytteve?" Squirrel asked.

"Perhaps," Arre replied. "It is crucial that we discover what they plan to do, and when. We know that Ycevi Ghytteve plans to murder the Scholar King and put Cithanekh Anzhibhar- Ghytteve on the throne instead. She plans to make Cithanekh a puppet by holding Owl hostage to her interests. But we don't know how they plan to murder the Emperor, and we don't know when they intend to act."

"We'll find out," Ferret said grimly. "Happen I said, once, the Ghytteve dinna matter to me; it isn't true any longer. They've killed one of my friends,
and they shall suffer for it
. How much proof do you need before the Emperor can charge Ycevi with high treason?"

Venykhar shook his head. "Treason is difficult to define: in the eyes of the Council Houses, it
isn't
treason if it works; and intention is almost impossible to prove. For every witness we could find to say Ycevi meant this or said that, she would have at least three who would defend her. It is probably a better plan to avenge your friend by foiling her scheme."

"So how do we do that?" Squirrel asked. "Spy on them? I'm fast, and quiet. Happen I could discover their plans."

"It's dangerous," Kerigden warned.

"Happen we know they're playing for blood," Donkey said. "It doesn't matter; we're in the game, whatever the stakes."

"Very well," Venykhar said. "We can use my apartments as headquarters; I'll provide you boys with page's livery, and Mouse—"

"Ven, wait," Arre began; and at the same moment, the door opened and Sharkbait came in. He was pale and sweating, his expression stony.

"Antryn, what's wrong?" Venykhar cried.

"If we were counting on the Guild war to keep the Ghytteve out of the Slums, we were dreaming," he said bitterly. "I got Zhotar's body dumped without trouble, but I've seen several brace of hunting Ghytteve this morning; and I overheard some troubling things. Ferret, they are looking for you—and me."

"Naught to surprise us there, surely," she interjected.

"No, but they also think you're involved, Kerigden—or someone in your Temple—and that I didn't expect."

"Dedemar must have seen us with Ferret—or someone who owed him a favor did," Kerigden sighed. "Well, it can't be helped—but it does render the sanctuary I've offered you something less than safe, I fear."

"Naught's safe," Ferret said, "until this Ycevi's dead."

"Ycevi
and
Elkhar," Sharkbait corrected. "So: how to proceed?"

While they filled Sharkbait in on what they had discussed, Kerigden's messenger returned with word that Dedemar was, indeed, missing with no explanation. When the messenger had left, they began to debate the advantages and dangers of spying on the Ghytteve. Surprisingly, Sharkbait agreed with Venykhar that his apartments should become the headquarters for any surveillance within the Palace; but he argued against either Mouse or Ferret helping to watch the Ghytteve.

"They want you, Ferret; and there are enough people—like Azhere—who know your face to make it too dangerous for you to be in the Palace. Further—"

"Never mind," Ferret cut him off. "Happen I've other ideas than watching in the walls."

"But I could—" Mouse began.

"No," he said firmly. "Mouse, they don't know your face; the Ghytteve don't even have a
description
of you. Elkhar's seen both Donkey and Squirrel, so they
need
to stay out of sight in the walls. But you could wander about openly, if we made an excuse for it."

"You mean I could pose as a maid?"

"Actually," he flashed a look full of meaning at Venykhar, "I had something else in mind."

The old lord nodded. "You would have the run of the Palace, Mouse, if you were thought to be my adopted niece. The Ykhave do that: adopt people of talent into the clan. No one would doubt you, once they saw your drawings."

"But I canna talk like a noble," the girl protested.

Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave smiled wryly. "Neither could I, when I first came to House Ykhave. Will you do it, Mouse?"

She nodded. "But it had better be 'Amynne.' Elkhar knows the name, 'Mouse.' And, Lord Venykhar, is this truth or pretense? I need to know."

"Truth—if your parents will agree to it."

She smiled, then, an expression full of radiant hope. "Oh, they'll agree when they see how much it matters to me."

"Well," Arre said into the brief silence this exchange engendered. "Perhaps we should study these maps."

"Wait," Sharkbait said. "Ferret, I'd like to know what your 'other ideas' include; and do you see a role for me?"

Ferret feigned wide-eyed innocence. "As if I'd
presume
to plan for you." At his silent challenge, she shrugged. "Seems to me that if the Ghytteve are fool enough to hunt in the midst of a Guild war, we might make use of that. It's a lawless place, the Slums, at the best of times. Happen if we were clever, we could lead some of Ycevi's hounds into Khyzhan's or Ybhanne's wolves."

"That sounds—" Arre began, but Ferret cut her off.

"Dangerous?" Some of her suppressed anger colored her tone. "So am I. Are you with me, Sharkbait?"

He nodded once, sharply. "Very well, my sweet thief; let's go hunting."

As the thief and the longshoreman departed, Arre unfurled her sheaf of papers and laid out the map on the table. The others crowded around. "This is the Ghytteve complex," Arre told them, pointing. "See the listening holes and passages? And here—look: a way to go secretly from the Ghytteve complex to the Ykhave quarters. That may be really useful."

Squirrel and Donkey exchanged perplexed looks. "But how do you tell which is what?" Squirrel asked.

"The symbols are identified in the key," Arre explained, then broke off, as pain contorted her features for an instant. "None of you can read," she said flatly.

"We're not
stupid
," Mouse responded sharply. "Once Squirrel and Donkey get their bearings, they
never
get lost; and if you explain what the signs mean, I'll remember the turnings."

They spent the next hour poring over the map. When they were done, Kerigden sent the children off in the care of some of his people to be scrubbed clean and made presentable. Venykhar went back to his apartments to fetch livery for the boys, and Arre went into town to find Mouse a decent dress. Much later, washed, brushed, trimmed and dressed, the three friends studied one another's transformation, before Venykhar took them up to the Palace.

***

Zherekhaf, the Prime Minister, poured coffee for his nephew, eyebrows arched inquiringly. "So you've a plan for the removal of the Emperor's foreign witch?"

Rhydev Azhere waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing so—mmm—
elaborate
as a plan, merely the skeleton of a notion." He paused to gather his thoughts under Zherekhaf's intent scrutiny. "We
know
the Ghytteve are conspiring. In my experience, they are rather—mmm—
intolerant
of interference, prone to leap to conclusions, and swift and ruthless in their responses."

"Swift,
rash
, and ruthless," the Prime Minister put in.

"Precisely." Rhydev fingered his beard reflectively. "I thought we might exploit such proclivites. If we—mmm—
encourage
the Ghytteve to belive that the Emperor's foreign witch is involved in a counterplot to thwart them, it might be enough to convince them to eliminate her."

"Thereby doing our dirty work for us," Zherekhaf said, smug. "I like it. Go on."

"If they
were
to kill Arre, and if we were able to—mmm—
implicate
them, I think it likely the Scholar King would bring Ycevi down over it."

Zherekhaf raised his eyebrows. "You amaze me," he murmured. "She's not even his wife; surely he wouldn't risk strife in his realm over a doxy."

"He loves her," Rhydev responded. "And perhaps he would—mmm—
underestimate
the resentment such an unreasonably harsh reprisal would engender."

"Still," the Prime Minister said, assessing his nephew inscrutably, as he considered. "It might serve nicely—though, frankly, I would not have expected you to see the possibility."

"It
will
serve," Rhydev responded, outwardly ignoring his uncle's comment while treasuring it for later analysis. "If we can pull this off (and you must realize, Uncle, that the timing is—mmm—
delicate
), we would be rid of Arre and Ycevi, and Khethyran's political position would be seriously—mmm—
undermined
. All to the good; how best to effect it?"

Zherekhaf arched his eyebrows. "Use the boy."

"The—the boy? You mean Owl?"

The Prime Minister permitted himself a tiny, superior smile. "The Ghytteve are not sure of him. Weren't you at Ycevi's latest soiree? I could taste that brute Elkhar's suspicion."

"Elkhar is suspicious of
everything
, Uncle," Rhydev protested. Owl was key to his other, unspoken, plan; he disliked the idea of risking him. "It's hardly sensible to impute similar excessive caution to the Lady."

"I watched her watching him. I tell you: the Ghytteve are not sure of him. With care, he could become the fulcrum to move them against the foreign witch."

Rhydev thought fast. It was true: and to protest overmuch might raise suspicions in his uncle. But still... He wet his lips. "Indeed he could; but remember, Uncle: I
want
that boy—alive and unharmed."

"As things stand, my dear Rhydev, you'll
never
get him. It merely amuses Ycevi to taunt you. If we shake her tower down, you may be able to rescue the boy from the rubble."

Rhydev thinned his lips and flared his nostrils in a skillful play of suppressed anger; then he eased his expression into a sigh. "You are right, alas. But we must move cautiously; and if we can—mmm—
implicate
the Emperor's foreign witch without the boy, let us do so."

"Of course, of course," the Prime Minister soothed. He hefted the coffee pot. "More, while we plan?"