A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) (31 page)

***

Owl screamed. Images blazed in his mind. It was too much. Too much! The past, present and future jumbled together like beads in a box; the fragmented dazzle filled his mind. The tides of prophecy thundered over him, pelting him with their vivid flotsam, dragging him further and further from the shore of sanity. And then, like an exhausted swimmer, he ceased to struggle. It didn't matter; nothing mattered. It was too hard to impose order on this chaos. He would let go, strip his sense from his inner vision and lose himself in the depths of history, possibility and immediacy. He let go; his soul fled—and was caught.

***

Arre felt him: Owl, snared in the web of power and order she had built with Kerigden's strength. She held him, channeled his raging visions into the framework she imposed, trying, ruthlessly, to force him back to sanity. He fought her with all his despairing might. But he was untrained, and she had her own and Kerigden's strength.

Owl! Owl, listen:
she cried, though he gave no sign of hearing her.
This will pass; I know what they've done, but this impossible madness will pass. You were unprepared and unwilling, but you can master this!

Her knowledge outstripped her mind voice. She knew her history. The ancient Khyghafe nomads had ritually blinded their shaman to bring him to his full power. It had required preparation, for the rite would loose a fearful storm of visions in the seer's mind. Some of them died, or went mad. Then, Arre remembered the words of the Windbringer: Keep the boy alive and sane. If you can.

***

Owl's screams broke off as he slumped against his bonds. Startled, Ycevi went to his side. "What's this? Elkhar, what's wrong with him? Owl?
Owl!
" She patted his unresponsive cheeks.

"Has he fainted?" Elkhar suggested.

Across the room, Cithanekh repeated his friend's name over and over, a quiet litany of anguish. Myncerre looked from the young lord to her mistress, then to Owl's hunched figure; and with unhurried precision, she filled the metal bowl with more
ymekkhai
and set the tongs down beside the brazier. Then, she slipped the stiletto from its hiding place into her hand.

"Lady? Would you like some smelling salts for him?" She pantomimed holding something out to Ycevi.

As the Lady reached for what the steward seemed to hold, Myncerre grabbed her wrist and gave a hard yank. She pulled Ycevi to her in a deadly embrace and slid the stiletto between her ribs. The Lady's startled exclamation was abruptly cut off. Holding the Lady's inert body upright with one arm, she snatched up the tongs and took a coal from the brazier. "Elkhar," she said, with enough real alarm to draw his gaze. Then she dropped the coal into the
ymekkhai
. 

She shut her eyes against the fierce flash; she could feel the heat of the burning on her face. Then, Myncerre shoved the Lady's body into Elkhar's oncoming rush. His stumble bought her the time to move from the place he'd last seen her. She could tell her ploy had worked: Elkhar was relying on sound more than sight, his night vision disturbed by the brilliant
ymekkhai
flash. She slipped her shoes off and tossed one to land just beyond Elkhar's left shoulder. As he spun toward the sound, she sprang. 

She made her strike, high up on the left side of his back. Not the clean kill she had been taught; a fatal wound—but too slow. She swore, softly. Writhing in her hold, Elkhar freed his knife hand for a counter thrust. His blade found, unerringly, the heart thrust. Life left the steward's face.

"Gods, Myncerre.
Why?
" Elkhar demanded, uselessly. Breath rattled unpleasantly. He started toward Owl with a snarl.

"
Why
, Elkhar?" Cithanekh challenged from the shadows. "Because, in the end, Myncerre reclaimed her own will. She broke Ycevi's control at the last; and she died free. Will you?"

He advanced on the bound man with deadly purpose. "I'll kill you, Cithanekh.
You're my meat now!
"

"Exactly as Ycevi would have wished," he responded acidly. "She meant to kill us both; I'm certain. Myncerre must have guessed."

"I am loyal to my Lady," Elkhar cried. "
Loyal!
" He laid his knife against Cithanekh's bare throat. "Can you say the same?"

Cithanekh's voice was grave and rather sad. "But was she loyal to
you
, Elkhar? To be genuine, loyalty must run in both directions—else one is either the puppet, or the puppeteer. I have been—tried to be—loyal to my friends."

***

After the second flash, Mouse quietly slipped the catch on the secret entrance and crept cautiously into the room. She was the only one of her companions who was not blinking stupidly at black and green afterimages when Myncerre killed Ycevi. During the fight between the steward and Elkhar, Mouse stole along the wall toward Cithanekh; but she was too slow. Before she was in position to loose the young lord's bonds, the bodyguard was towering threateningly over him, a knife pressed to his throat. She took a running leap at the bodyguard, flinging her slight weight against his chest.

Startled and still half-blinded, the knife flew out of Elkhar's hand as he rolled with the force of Mouse's attack. His hands clutched her tunic; with a wriggle, she left it in his fingers like a reptile's shed skin and pelted out of reach. He started toward her; but after two strides, he dropped to one knee, coughing wetly.

Mouse saw the glint of light on metal and dove for Elkhar's knife. She came up, clutching it, and found herself facing the man across a span of ten feet or so. He knelt, bewilderment on his face. "Who?" he gasped. "Who are you?"

"I'm Loyalty," Mouse said clearly, "and Retribution." As she watched, Elkhar's eyes dulled and his face began to relax. "And Peace," the child added more gently. Elkhar fell, then, slow and heavy as a tree. But Mouse was sure she saw him smile, just before he died.

***

"Mouse?" Cithanekh said wonderingly. "I can't see you."

The girl scurried to Cithanekh and cut his bonds with Elkhar's knife. "Quick, quick, quick," she whispered. "Take my hand—I'll lead you."

"Owl," Cithanekh protested.

"Half a moment," she snapped. "I canna do it all at once."

By the time she got Cithanekh inside the secret passageway, Donkey and Ferret had untied Owl and hauled his curiously inert form to the secret panel.

"What's the
matter
with him?" Ferret demanded. "I dinna think he's unconscious. Owl!"

The boy rolled away from her touch, curling into a ball. "
Owl!
" Mouse, Ferret and Squirrel cried.

Cithanekh took the boy from the thief. "Owl." It was plea, and pain, and endearment. "
Owl
," he repeated, but the boy was unresponsive. "Owl, come back. Don't leave me. I
need
you.
Owl!
"

Squirrel took the Windbringer's stone out of his pocket. In the close darkness of the passage, it coruscated with imperative light. In the eerie glow, Cithanekh watched with reckless hope, as Squirrel pressed the gem into Owl's palm and wrapped his fingers around it. For an instant, Owl gripped it; then his hand went limp. The stone shattered. Rain-scented air gusted in the passage. They watched for some change in the boy, but Owl made no sign. Cithanekh bowed his head in unspeakable pain.

Ferret touched his shoulder gently. "We canna stay here."

The young lord lifted Owl's motionless body and followed numbly. They were halfway back to the Imperial Apartments when Owl raised a questing hand to his friend's cheek.

"Cithanekh?" he asked plaintively. "I can't see you."

"I'm here, Owl," Cithanekh assured him; relief quavered in his voice. "And you're safe."

Chapter Thirty-three—Tidying Up

Owl sat quietly before the window of the guest room of the Imperial Apartments. He felt the sun on his face; it was too warm, but the air from the gardens smelled sweet. Behind him, he heard the door open.

"Cithanekh?" he asked without turning. It did no good, anymore, to look.

The door closed. Footsteps approached: not Cithanekh's tread. A face crossed his inner sight. "Your Majesty."

Hands took his shoulders, gentle, as the Emperor spoke. "You're hard to surprise, Owl. Oh, lad," he sighed. "I hardly know how to ask you this: it's so unfair. I had a letter from the Duke of Ghytteve; he flatly refuses to serve as the Council representative for his House. He named three possible successors: one's so corrupt he makes even Zherekhaf blanch; the second is gullible and venal; and the third is Cithanekh."

Owl swallowed tears. "Kerigden says it is imperative that I train my gift. You say I'm hard to surprise, Your Majesty, but my inner sight is very unreliable, yet. Arre says I can learn control, but both she and Kerigden think I should attend the Kellande School on Kalledann. Cithanekh was going to go with me. What did he say when you appointed him?"

"I haven't appointed him. Owl, I
won't
appoint him without your permission."

"
My
permission? That's absurd. You're the
Emperor
."

"True. But I am also very deeply in your debt, Owl. Without your help, Arre would be dead. You and your friends have saved my kingdom, my crown and my very life. And it has cost you dearly. Perhaps you can imagine how much I'd like—how much I
need
—an ally on the Council: someone intelligent, and moral, and compassionate. But I owe you so much, Owl, that I cannot—
I will not
—take any more from you than you can freely give. So: may I appoint him, Owl?"

As Owl considered, a silver-tinged image filled his inner sight: Cithanekh, a little older, laughing over a
khacce
board with the Scholar King and
wearing a Councilor's chain of office
. Something twisted inside Owl. He bowed his head to hide his tears. "As you will, Your Majesty."

Khethyran's hands tightened suddenly on the boy's shoulders. "
Owl
," he protested.

Owl raised his head. His cheeks were wet but his voice was steady as he sketched a sign in the air. "With my blessing."

Owl couldn't see the pain in the Emperor's eyes; but he heard the tremor in his voice. "Thank you, Owl."

***

The death of Ycevi Ghytteve at the hands of her steward caused a seven-days wonder even at a Court as jaded as Bharaghlaf's. It was not so much that Ycevi had been murdered (many pundits quipped the real mystery was that she had ever
survived
); but most had thought Myncerre utterly loyal to her Lady, and few could imagine the quiet woman outwitting Elkhar's single-minded suspicion.

But if the murder of the Ghytteve Councilor caused a stir, finding a successor to her seat caused a tempest. Contrary to every expectation, Ycevi's son the Duke declined to step into his mother's shoes. So the Scholar King appointed his own first cousin (and arguably his heir) Cithanekh Anzhibhar-Ghytteve. Cithanekh promptly shocked everyone by making three outrageous proposals at his first Council meeting: first, that the informal organization of dock workers be recognized as a legal Guild, and its chief proponent—a man known as Sharkbait—be named Master of the Longshoreman's Guild; second, that a token of royal favor and the right to display the Emperor's Crest be granted to a seedy Slum tavern known as the Trollop's Smile; and third, that a sum of 9,000 Royals be levied from the nine Council Houses for the establishment of schools in the Slums and the waterfront district, so that the children of families too poor to afford private tutors might be taught to read and write.

No conclusive action was taken on Cithanekh's proposals, though a lively discussion ensued. After the meeting, Khethyran and Cithanekh found Arre and Mouse helping Owl with his packing. Their laughter preceded them into the room.

"So," Arre smiled. "What
is
so funny?" When they recounted Cithanekh's first Council meeting, Arre raised her eyebrows. "You must have set them utterly at odds. What were you thinking of, Cithanekh?"

Owl smiled wryly. "That's easy. He's just making it abundantly clear to the entire happy family of Council snakes that they are far better off with the Scholar King for Emperor than they would be with
him
."

Cithanekh put a companionable arm around Owl's shoulder. "Found out!" he said. "Gods, but I'll miss you, Owl."

Choking down tears, Owl leaned against the young lord, and nodded. "I'll miss you, too," Owl told Cithanekh softly, after a moment. "But Arre says they'll let me come home for a visit at the end of the first year. And if I study really, really hard, perhaps I won't need to go back."

"Study really, really hard, then, lad. I can probably survive a year—but I don't think I can spare you for two."

***

In the end, the Council voted down the proposed schools; the argument over the Longshoreman's Guild, though tabled for the moment, promised to reemerge periodically. But the Trollop's Smile was granted the right to display the Emperor's Crest. An Ykhave artisan painted a new sign, the Emperor's Crest (with the Emperor's permission) flaunted brazenly on the saucy lady's red dress. Royal favor aside, Arkhyd found himself (courtesy of House Ghytteve) with a reliable source of excellent spirits at reasonable prices. The ale at the Trollop was still swill, but for those who knew to ask for it, the brandy was superb.

Ykhave artisans painted a second sign (which also displayed the Emperor's Crest, though in a more conventional manner) for a new flower shop slated to open in the waterfront district. The shop was purchased with the help of Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave—Amynne Ykhave's adopted uncle—and Squirrel and his father looked forward to regular employment with Mouse's parents.

The night before Arre and Owl sailed for Kalledann, the Trollop's Smile was the site for a comprehensive celebration. Arkhyd—when he got over dithering and settled down to tending his patrons' needs—outdid himself. Sharkbait cheated shamelessly at the
ysmath
bones and won (he said) enough money from Cithanekh and Venykhar to finance his operations for half a year. Arre, Kerigden and Venykhar (when he could be pried away from the fickle
ysmath
bones) made music; Owl got Commander Bhenekh tipsy enough to recite some of his own poetry (which, for a wonder, wasn't bad); Squirrel and Donkey persuaded an Imperial Guard to teach them a variant of the Bharaghlafi Sword Dance; Mouse drew irreverent sketches of everyone for Arre to take with her to Kalledann; and the Emperor challenged Ferret to a game of
khacce
which (amazingly) she won.

As the Emperor was putting his
khacce
set away, he fixed the thief with an unsettlingly direct gaze. "Ferret, I want you to think about something for me." As she raised eyebrows encouragingly, he went on. "You've seen what Council House intrigue is like. Most Houses have their people like Azhere's man, Ghorran. I have Bhenekh—a good man, mind, but not precisely subtle."

Ferret laughed. "Even out of uniform. Happen I know what you mean. Right now, he looks ready to have kittens at the mere thought of escorting Your August Personage home through the Slums. But Your Majesty, I've a shameless ambition to be the youngest thief ever promoted Master, before I'm done in this Guild. Happen that will take me a year or two."

"And once you're Master?"

"We'll talk again; but in the meantime, speak to Donkey."

***

It was late when Ferret returned to her lair. After the party, she'd run an errand for Khyzhan. She climbed wearily up to her rooftop—and froze. Someone was there before her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded of Sharkbait.

He shrugged. "I made some coffee. Would you like some?"

She spent a moment deciding whether to be outraged or amused. Amusement won. "Thanks. How'd you get up here?"

"The same way you do."

Ferret thought of the treacherous ascent and shuddered. Sharkbait was quite a bit heavier than she was. "You must be braver than you look—or more a fool."

Sharkbait laughed. "Brave; drunk; determined; foolish; desperate. Take your pick." He poured coffee into one of her battered mugs. "Would you like sugar? I brought some." At her nod, he added sugar and held the cup out to her; when she came over to get the cup, he took her hand and drew her down beside him. "What took you so long?"

"Guild business for Khyzhan. Sharkbait, it's late. Are you just making conversation, or are you coming to some point?"

He shifted so that his shoulder was under her head. "I'm coming to a point," he murmured into her hair. "Trust me."

"
Trust
you?" she laughed. "After watching you cheat
despicably
at the
ysmath
bones?"

"Ferret," he chided. "Despicable cheaters get
caught
."

She yawned and leaned against him. "It's hardly fair to bandy words with me when I'm this tired."

He smiled with mock nastiness. "That, my sweet thief, was the plan. It's my only hope of winning an argument with you."

"What a thoroughly ungentlemanly attitude!"

Very slowly, Sharkbait reached out to rest his fingers on the sides of her face. "I never claimed to be a gentleman," he pointed out. He gently drew her closer. When they were nose to nose, he spoke again. "Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?"

Laughter found its way around a breathless flutter in her throat. "I thought you weren't a gentleman.
Why are you asking?
"

"Good point," he acknowledged, and kissed her.

THE END

The adventures of Ferret and her friends and allies are continued in the sequel,
A Parliament of Owls
. Visit your favorite vendor to find the e-book version.