Honor Among Thieves (11 page)

Fox was reasonably certain they would pass
inspection. Avidan looked the part of a visiting Veldooni
alchemist. He’d even cut his hair, which greatly increased his
resemblance to Shavin Insa’amid. Fox wore clothes he’d removed from
a tinsmith’s clothesline—simple garments of good but middling
quality, such as might be expected in an important man’s servant.
Avidan’s unguents covered the bruises on Fox’s face and darkened
his skin to a hue nearly approaching the alchemist’s. He’d darkened
his red hair with a black dye that Avidan swore, and Fox dearly
hoped, was temporary.

The guard waved them through and pointed them to the
visitor’s entrance.

As they walked through the bailey, Fox kept up a
steady stream of last-minute instructions.

“You’re sure you remember the signs.”

“Do not concern yourself. My memory has been trained
to retain copious amounts of information.”

“Copious. That’s good,” Fox murmured as he scanned
the courtyard. “What do you do if I scratch my ear?”

Avidan sighed. “I stop talking about the subject
currently under discussion.”

“What if I touch my mouth?”

“Then I am to echo what the speaker said, in a manner
likely to encourage him to continue in that vein. In short, I am to
elicit more information.”

Fox nodded. “The host gift is offered after you’ve
had the wine or tea or whatever Muldonny offers. Not before.”

“And if I find the refreshments insufficient
recompense for the gifts?”

To Fox’s astonishment, the alchemist wore a wry
smile.

“Was that a joke?”

“Not a successful one, apparently.”

“Huh.” Fox studied the alchemist. “You look . . .
better.”

“Than what?”

“Usual.”

Avidan shrugged. “It is good from time to time to
remember who you once were.”

Thanks to his resemblance to the Veldooni alchemist,
Fox had a pretty good idea what that was. It shamed him a little
that he’d never thought to inquire into Avidan’s history. He’d
assumed that the alchemist was one of many students driven mad by
the study, and that he’d found his way into the tunnels fleeing the
inevitable result of not conforming to the adept’s vision of
Sevrin. That, in and of itself, had been reason enough for Fox to
accept Avidan into his inner circle.

But now his curiosity was aroused.

“As for protocol,” he said in a casual tone, “just
follow whatever rules the Veldooni go by. Do you remember
these?”

“Yes.”

An unspoken “Of course!” resounded through the
alchemist’s terse response.

“You looking so much like this Shavin Insa’amid is a
fortunate coincidence.”

“Fortunate, perhaps. A coincidence, almost certainly
not.”

They came to a stop before the second gate. Another
human guard checked Avidan’s papers and his letter of invitation
before unlocking the gate and turning them over to the clockwork
guard.

To Fox’s eyes, the design of Muldonny’s guards
recalled an earlier era. Unlike Rhendish, whose clockwork
constructs looked more and more like humans with each new
innovation, the Adept of Stormwall Island surrounded himself with
machines that resembled armored knights of centuries past.

They followed the animated knight into the fortress
and down a corridor that opened into a grand hall. Muldonny bustled
forward to meet them.

Vishni’s description of Muldonny as a human squirrel
hit very near the mark. His gray robe draped his pot belly and
equally broad posterior. It reached below his knees, making his
short legs appear even shorter. A jittery energy surrounded the
little man, and his large dark eyes darted here and there as if
expecting to see a lurking cat or the shadow of a giant raptor.

The man lacked only a fluffy gray tail to complete
the picture.

Fox raised one hand to his mouth and coughed to
disguise a smile.

He stood back and looked appropriately servile as the
two alchemists went through the formalities. Avidan handled himself
surprisingly well. By the time they arrived in Muldonny’s workroom,
Fox’s worry began to ebb.

The room was like most of the alchemist shops Fox had
infiltrated, cluttered with books and bottles and metal and leather
and a dozen projects in various stages of completion. Of particular
interest to him was the shell of a clockwork knight, identical to
the one that stood outside the workshop door, lying on a
worktable.

Muldonny gestured to a trio of large vats in an lcove
off the main workroom.

“These are some of my more effective solvents. They
are not alkahest, not by any means, but they have proven
useful.”

Avidan walked closer to the nearest vat. He inhaled
deeply, closed his eyes, and stood as if listening.

“It’s a foul stench, I’ll grant you, but the solvent
is quite effective,” Muldonny said. “This dissolves metal, very
useful in combat.”

“A strange weapon for someone who works with metal,”
Avidan said.

The adept reached into a pocket over one massive hip
and produced a small glass orb.

“It is because I work with metal that I still keep
the solvent in quantity. Should one of my servants malfunction, it
can be stopped quickly.”

“Very prudent, I’m sure.” Avidan shrugged off his
cloak and handed it to Fox. “I see you are building yet another
servant.”

“My standard model,” the adept said dismissively.
“Useful, but nothing innovative. But come—let me show you my
garden.”

Fox followed them out of the workshop, dropping
Avidan’s cloak to the floor before he closed the door behind
them.

A small table had been set up in the courtyard
gardens. The refreshments were not lavish—a tall samovar of tea and
a plate of small biscuits.

Fox hoped the alchemist did not remember his comment
about fair reimbursement for the host gifts. Or if he did, that
he’d recall it was only a jest.

A clockwork servant poured out tea and then fell back
several paces. Fox took his cue from the machine and measured his
own distance.

For a while, he listened while the men talked about
their work. Fox had little use for alchemy, so he learned for the
first time that it arose in Veldoon in past centuries and only
recently spread to the northlands. Interesting, he supposed, but it
was time to move things forward.

He caught Avidan’s eye and tapped a hand to his
chest. The alchemist acknowledged him with a barely perceptible
nod.

“I have heard that Sevrin is preoccupied with
collecting curiosities. Is this an interest you share?”

Muldonny gestured for more tea. “I have been to the
museums, of course, but not for several years. You may wish to
visit them, if your time in Sevrin permits.”

Avidan glanced at Fox for a prompt. The thief touched
his left shoulder.

“So you are not a collector, then.”

“That would depend upon your definition of the term.
Alchemists collect all manner of things. We must do so for our
work, is that not so? But amassing a display of quaint objects
merely to say you possess them?” He shook his head. “No, I am a man
of singular focus.”

Fox touched his mouth.
Echo him, keep him
talking
.

“And what is that focus?” Avidan asked.

The adept smiled. “I admire your devotion to your
great-grandsire’s art. Like you, I believe there is much to learn
from the past. Sevrin is not wise to cut ties to the old ways.
Perhaps not even the old races.”

This was not something Fox had ever expected to hear
an adept say. He touched his mouth again, urging Avidan to pursue
this.

Before he could speak, a metal servant approached
with a silver tray. A single calling card lay on the tray. Fox’s
eyes widened as he recognized Rhendish’s seal.

Muldonny did not look much happier than Fox about
this development. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said in a
flat tone. “It would appear that one of my brother adepts has come
to call.”

Avidan rose. “Then I will leave you to confer.”

“Oh, you must meet Rhendish. It will do him good to
converse with a man more learned than himself.”

Fox flashed the symbol for
Lie.
Graciously
.

“You do me too much honor.” The alchemist resumed his
seat. “It will be my pleasure. I had hoped to gain an audience with
some of your fellow adepts. I have brought samples of my work with
alkahest, if you think he might be interested.”

Muldonny’s eyebrows rose. “I am never quite certain
about Rhendish, but I’m certainly interested.”

“The vials are in my cloak.” Avidan snapped his
fingers as a signal for Fox to produce them.

The thief stepped forward and dipped into a low bow.
“A thousand pardons, my lord. I left your cloak in Muldonny’s
workroom.”

“Fetch it immediately.” Avidan looked to Muldonny.
“With your permission?”

As Fox expected, Muldonny turned to the clockwork
knight.

“See Master Insa’amid’s man to the workroom and
return with him.”

Fox bowed low to each alchemist in turn, and he left
with the adept’s globe of solvent tucked into his sleeve. It was,
if he did say so himself, a pretty bit of pocket-mining.

He retrieved Avidan’s cloak from the floor of the
workroom and patted it down. The lining held several pockets.
Avidan had tucked into them four small ivory vials, all of them
carved from dragon’s teeth Fox had liberated from several private
collections.

He grimaced at the sight of the scrimshaw carvings on
one of the teeth. The vial would be too easily traced. He tucked it
into his pocket.

The clockwork servant gestured to the door. “Return
now.”

Fox jumped, startled by the hollow, metallic voice.
“These things are talking now?”

“Talking now.”

“Empty night,” Fox muttered. “The adepts are getting
too good at their work.”

“Return now,” the construct said.

“If you’re in a hurry, feel free to go on without me.
In fact, if you would take these vials to my master, I’d appreciate
it.”

“Take vials.”

“That’s right,” Fox said. He held out two of the
dragon tooth vials.

The clockwork servant stood motionless. Apparently it
took instructions from no one but Muldonny.

Another idea came to Fox. He wandered over to the
worktable and picked up a handful of tiny gears.

“Thief take clockwork!”

“No, just exploring your ability to assess
situations.” He dropped the handful of metal onto the table. “Out
of curiosity, what would you do if I
did
steal something
from the workshop?”

The clockwork servant spun toward the alcove where
the vats of solvent stood. On the floor just in front was a round
metal grate. The construct bent down and lifted the cover with
about as much effort as Fox might require to pick up his boots.

“Thief disappears.”

“That’s what I thought.” Fox hefted Muldonny’s globe
of solvent. “You go first.”

He hurled the little sphere at the construct. Glass
shattered against its plate-armor chest.

Fetid steam surrounded the clockwork knight. When it
cleared, no more than three heartbeats later, Fox could see the
solvent vats through a gaping hole in the construct’s chest.

The clockwork servant stumbled forward and fell into
the shaft.

Several moments passed before a distant clatter and
thud sounded from below.

No splash.

A triumphant smile spread across Fox’s face. He might
not be able to make the dagger switch today, but at least he’d
found a way into Muldonny’s manor.

Now, to find a way to get himself and Avidan
out
.

He shoved the grate back into place and looked around
for some sort of disguise.

His gaze fell on the half-finished servant on the
worktable. The shell really did look like a suit of armor.

He went over for a closer look. The torso was empty
except for a few handfuls of tightly assembled machinery. Fox
pulled them out and fed them to the vat of metal solvent.

Fox climbed onto the table and worked his way into
the armor suit. He swung his legs over the side of the table and
found the metal was surprisingly light. Gripping the edge of the
table, he pulled himself upright.

So far, so good.

The helmet was another concern. To his relief he
could see through the hard silver substance covering the eye
sockets. He worked his hands into the articulated gloves, flexed
his fingers several times. He hopped off the table and took an
experimental step. The armor was a little too big, but it felt well
balanced. After two circuits of the workroom, he figured he was as
ready as he was likely to get. He clanked down the narrow stairs
leading to the courtyard.

His heart quickened at the sight of Rhendish sitting
next to Avidan. The two adepts played some sort of card game, which
Avidan had prudently chosen to observe.

Muldonny’s eyes narrowed as he took in the metal-clad
Fox. “And where is Master Insa’amid’s servant?”

“Thief take clockwork,” Fox said, making his voice
low and grating.

It was, in his opinion, an excellent approximation of
the servant’s voice. The slight tick at one corner of Avidan’s
mouth indicated that the alchemist thought otherwise.

“My most abject apologies,” Avidan murmured. “The
servant came highly recommended. I will recompense you for any loss
and shall deal most harshly with him.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself on either account,” the
adept said. “I’m certain he has already been dealt with.”

“Servants,” said Rhendish, shaking his head in
commiseration. “You treat them well, pay them fairly, and still
they rob you.”

Muldonny drew a card from the deck and scowled at his
hand. “So I am told.”

Fox raised a metal hand to his mouth, the signal for
Avidan to press for information.

“One of your servants has been caught stealing?”