Lhind the Thief (2 page)

He stood up. “Well. I can see you won’t talk to me at all
now. I want you to think over my words, and these. If you permit, I can help
you make a better life for yourself. Safer, too. Till you decide, I’m afraid I
must leave you tied up. Illusions cast aboard the yacht would be regrettable,
to say the least.” He gave me an apologetic smile, went out and shut the door.

I inspected the cord around my ankles. It was woven silk,
very thin and not uncomfortable, but unquestionably well tied. The knot looked
like a slip knot; if I pulled, it would tighten. The cord around my wrists felt
much the same. No chance of wriggling free. I needed a cutting edge.

I thought with disgust of the dagger in the waistband of my
knickers. It was right in front, just where I couldn’t possibly reach it.
Remember this for the future, too
, I told myself.

I looked around the little cabin for a substitute. Against
the far wall was a built-in bunk, and below it two cabinets, opposite a table
with three fine carved chairs. Above the table shelves had been fitted, whose
various objects were held in place by a carved guardrail.

I’d just finished my scrutiny when the door opened abruptly,
and in walked the Strutting Root-Mold Rajanas. I had just enough time to give
him a welcoming glower and to tense my muscles in readiness. He kicked the door
shut behind him, then reached down with that deceptive slowness to grab the
front of my tunic and straighten me up.

“I thought I’d better make the time to give you these words,
my foul-smelling little thief. Hlanan is a friend of mine—”

“Pity him,” I started.

He cuffed the side of my head. My cowl and hair were thick
enough to cushion any sting, but I yelled “Ow!” anyway.

“Shut up,” he said evenly. “He’s also tender-hearted and
idealistic to the point of rashness. I expect three things of you, and if you
comply you will be cut loose in the first harbor we come to, with a coin for
your pains. The first is: in the morning he will probably ask you where you
came from and how you came by your ability to cast illusions. You will tell
him. And when he offers to take you up and further train you, you will refuse.
I do not believe you learned that trick by accident, but whatever incompetent
fool of a sorcerer thought fit to teach the likes of you that spell is not
going to learn anything of Hlanan that can be used to harm him. Or if you have
escaped from your master then I do not intend to see you set free with any
information to sell to the nearest practitioner of the dark arts. Do you
understand me?”

He paused, and I tried to work up a good spit. He smiled
suddenly. “The third thing is: you will improve your manners from this moment
henceforth, or I will bestir myself to thrash some into you. Do you understand
that?”

I gave him my deadest stone-face. He stared at me out of
pale eyes, a paleness accentuated by his brown skin, and then, with that faint
smile, he turned away. “You may as well remain here for the night. You have
already rendered this cabin unfit for civilized company—” He smiled a little
wider as he opened the door “—and your presence would probably shock said
company right off my yacht.” Laughing softly, he shut the door.

I snorted. “You don’t frighten
me,
Offal-Faced Littermate of Skunks,” I shouted at the door. I
added a few more imprecations, then came the comforting thought that I’d had
fair warning. That gave me all night to concoct a plausible lie.

I pushed myself against the wall and stood up. My head was
light—though not nearly as empty as my belly—but I still managed to judge the
rhythm of the water under the ship and hop over to the little window over the
narrow table. Being somewhat short, I could just barely see through it, but
what I saw was enough to convince me I was indeed on a very fine yacht, with no
land in sight. A swim, then, was definitely out.

Not much of the yacht was in view: part of the gangway, along
which two people in splendid dress strolled slowly. Beyond the rails, the water
reflected sunset colors, and above marched a line of heavy clouds. Rain was
coming.

Fine. If a storm was due, I wasn’t going to spend it on the
floor just because I’d been put there. I reached the bunk in two hops and a
somersault dive. Glad to find my balance still good despite my dizziness and my
hair and tail being confined, I wriggled around until I was as comfortable as
those cords would allow—and then I sank into sleep.

Within an unknown stretch of time I woke up again, to find
the ship rolling and pitching. Outside the wind shrieked, and under me the wood
groaned like a live thing. My stomach lurched queasily, but I tightened it,
thinking,
Quiet, gut. Not enough in you to make a
fuss
. Curling up, I slid into more uneasy sleep, dreaming of
ghost-riders in the thunder.

Nothing happened to me, though—that is, nothing until my
door opened. I woke to see pale morning light slanting across Rajanas’s angry
face, and gleaming on the naked blade of the long knife in his hand.

Still hazy with sleep and hunger, I brought my feet up to
make a last try at defending myself.

“Hold still,” he said curtly, swatting my ankles aside. He
reached down and grabbed the neck of my tunic, then flung me over onto my face.

“The yacht seems to have become separated from the other
ships by the storm and the fog,” he said. “We’re about to be boarded by
pirates.”

He was interrupted by a long scream, followed by sudden
shouts and clangs of weapons. I tried to sit up.

“Even a little rat of a thief deserves a chance to fight for
its life,” he said grimly, shoved me back down again, and sawed quickly through
the silken cords binding me.

“Here.” He pressed the blade into my hand, then dashed
through the door. From outside came the sounds of cries and the clash of
weapons.

I jumped down from the bunk and shook my head, trying to get
my scattered wits to focus as I moved to the door. What do I do now?

Rajanas shouted a command, then he himself appeared a ways
down the deck, running toward a knot of struggling people as he pulled a sword
free of the sheath across his back. He turned his head and snapped more orders
at the sailors swarming up from below-deck.

I looked up. The air was thick with swirling mist, making it
hard to see the sails and rigging. Apprehension chilled me: this fog carried
the taint of magic. I shivered, looking again along the length of the yacht.
Most of the fighting I could see was going on at the front end of the ship,
beyond which I could just make out the outline of another ship.

At the main hatch a few steps from me, a pirate yanked hard
on a violently struggling woman half-wrapped in a cloak. He pulled her to the
deck, one hand on her arm, one scrabbling at her neck. She flung away the cloak
and something gleamed in her hand. The pirate struck at her. She whirled out of
his grasp and stabbed him in the side. He stumbled away, howling, then more
figures appeared, everyone fighting furiously.

I crept out. The deck was wet, cold, and slippery beneath my
bare feet; forward, all the fighters were having a hard time keeping their
footing as high waves splashed down one side of the yacht, foaming over the
rails.

I leaped to the ropes leading upward, and when the yacht
rolled away, I slung myself onto the masthead.

Now I could see more of the deck, through the rigging and
the forward storm-sails.

A cloud of fog thinned momentarily, revealing individuals
more clearly. I picked out Hlanan and Rajanas fighting against several pirates
wearing scarlet tunics slashed up the side, with black trousers and shirts
beneath. My throat dried. Those scarlet tunics were worn only by the Skull
Fleet, one of the worst pirate federations plaguing the entire Azure seacoast.
I had crossed them twice before—which was two more times than anyone needed to
encounter the likes of them.

Think,
I told myself,
shaking my head again. I knew these pirates would not stop fighting until
everyone was dead, unless someone was worth a great deal of ransom money.

I could make a shimmer. But how would a mere illusion help?

Rajanas’s voice came back to me: “The yacht was separated
from the other ships . . .”

A shimmer might help if it’s
big enough,
I thought, rubbing my clammy hands down my tunic. Well aware
of the penalty for trying magic in Thesreve, I hadn’t dared try anything but
small shimmers for a long time, ever since I’d crossed the border. Now, with
aching head and empty belly, was not the ideal time to try more magic, but I
did not seem to have any choice.

I tucked Rajanas’s heavy-bladed knife into my waistband and
raised both my hands, holding them palms out. I concentrated, whispering
magic-gathering commands that I seemed to have learned in dreams. I was
repeating words I did not understand, I only knew what they were capable of. As
I muttered the litany, I pulled all the magic to me until my hands tingled and
burned. When they began to pulse, I gathered the internal heat.

Sound! A horn—

A sudden, clear, low belling, like a hunting horn, rang out.
My head buzzed warningly, but pride surged in me. Sound magic was so difficult,
but I’d done it!

I threw all the rest of the power into the biggest shimmer I
had ever tried. Snap! The spell finished, my fingers tingled so hard they were
almost numb, but I watched in satisfaction as a black silhouette of a huge
three-master slid close and noiseless near the yacht.

I laughed for joy. It looked real, cutting menacingly
directly behind the stern of the yacht. Cries of fear and astonishment rose
from the front of the yacht.

I stretched my fingers out again.

This time my hands did go numb, and I knew I wouldn’t be
able to gather and hold this much magic but once more—if that.

Fear helped me concentrate. Snap! Weak sunlight glimmered
off half a hundred steel helmets, shields and drawn swords along the rail of my
ghost-ship. The fog swirled close, masking the lack of detail that I did not
have the power left to make.

But it was enough. My shimmers were aided by the pirates’
own fog.

The pirates shouted and howled with rage, anger, betrayal.

My arms were heavy, numbing fast. But something more was
needed.

I aimed my thumbs, and grappling lines snaked through the
air toward the yacht’s rails. My head pounded like twenty boulders had fallen
on it, but I kept my arms locked and still, my attention focused just beyond my
fingers. Then, with the last of my strength, I clapped—and a massive surge of
water rose up to give the yacht a single, heavy lurch, as though the lines had
snagged us and took hold.

An angry, raw-voiced command cut through the mist.

The pirates began to hack their way back toward their
vessel. I spotted Rajanas’s black head as he chased after, inviting death until
the last moment. I sent my three-master heeling against the wind in the
direction of the pirates, hoping the fog would cover the increasingly
indistinct lines. The grappling hooks winkled into oblivion.

A sudden, hoarse cheer rose behind me. The pirates had cast
off, and sail after sail billowed aboard their vessel as they began to run.

I let the shimmer fade into the fog, and as I released
control, all the soreness of my head and limbs settled on me. Get back to that
cabin! Pretend you were too scared to fight! I climbed back down the rigging.

When I dropped onto the deck, I was startled by a voice
inside my head.

Hrethan
! It was a call
of recognition.

Who is that?
I
thought in fear, and as the presence entered my mind again, I shouted “Get
out!” so loud I thought my skull would split. The voice and the presence
disappeared.

I grabbed at the rail, fighting against the worst headache
I’d ever had. Rajanas’s knife clattered down beside me. Long years of never
leaving a free weapon lying around made me bend instinctively to retrieve it.
When I tried to straighten up, the deck rose to meet my face, and I had to give
in to the dark fog that closed in on my thoughts.

o0o

When I woke I was stretched out on the bunk again. As I
turned my head the sharp twinge of sore muscles ran along my arms, and my
fingers twitched under my back. I was tied up again. A sigh of disgust escaped
me—then my gaze fell on Hlanan.

He knelt beside the bunk, watching me intently. Behind him
stood Rajanas, looking disheveled and tired, and next to him an unfamiliar,
bearded man. I smelled something pungent: mulled wine. At the thought of
anything wet and drinkable, I swallowed convulsively, and my tongue, which felt
like a long-dried-out stocking, moved thickly in my mouth.

“Want some?” Hlanan smiled encouragingly. “I hoped the aroma
might bring you around.”

He slid a hand behind my hood and lifted my head, then held
a cup to my lips. I tasted spicy hot wine. After a moment, vertigo faded and I
felt a little more awake. Unfortunately, I was also very thirsty.

“Can I have some water?” I croaked.

“You’re still thirsty?” Hlanan asked.

“It’s only been three days . . .” I began.

Hlanan’s dark eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a wince
of regret.

“Maybe four . . . five . . .”
I added in a pitiful voice, hoping to make him feel worse.

Instead his lips tightened. A smile? The quirk of his
eyelids gave him away as he turned to the bearded man. “Captain Hucharwe, may
I—”

A gruff voice from the captain: “I’ll attend to it, Scribe.”

Silence fell, and I shut my eyes, remembering that voice
inside my head.
Hrethan
. I knew that word,
but it, like the magic words, were buried in my past, difficult to retrieve
except in shards of images, sounds. Once in a while a familiar smell.

Trying to think made my head feel worse. I opened my eyes as
the hand slid behind me again, and this time I tasted water. Ahhh! I sucked it
up until I couldn’t breathe.