Lhind the Thief (29 page)

“No. Wait. Isn’t that somewhere beyond Thesreve?”

“Yes. Mountains—hills, really, mining country, between
Thesreve and Akerik, which had petitioned to become part of the empire. Akerik
has been thriving since joining the empire’s protection, and everyone has been
happy except the Duchess of Thann, who has ambitions. She uses the wherewithal
from her mines to raise and train the Wolf Grays.”

He paused to glance around, then said, “The conditions in
her mines are deplorable, as she wrests every bit of wealth she can out of
them. The empire would like to . . .” He shook his head. “Listen
to me ramble! It’s walking in the sun like this.”

“So this duchess is running the thief ring?”

“I think it’s more that she’s benefitting, and using the
thieves as spies. And assassins, Thianra thinks. She had been looking for proof
when an assassin team came after her. This is one of the reasons why Rajanas
set sail as suddenly as he did.”

“And here I thought Thianra was just a bard. Except she
fights too well to be just a bard,” I said.

“She would like to be just a bard,” Hlanan observed, his
tone difficult to understand. It was tentative, like he could say more, or
should say more, but didn’t.

Instead, he shifted so he was walking sideways as he peered
out over my head. I whirled to look as well, but I wasn’t tall enough to see
over the hedgerow growing alongside the road, so I turned back, and nearly
stumbled into Hlanan. I stepped back, distracted by the shape of his jaw, and
the unexpected ruddy-gold glint of whiskers. I snapped my gaze down, my nerves
jangling like one of Thianra’s stringed instruments. I’d never felt that
before, like I had walked uninvited into someone’s privacy.

I sneaked a glance upward, to discover him regarding me
speculatively. “You’ve another terrible surprise to spring on me?” he asked,
the corners of his mouth deepening in the quirk that meant he was holding in
laughter.

“You haven’t done the spell to stop beard growth?” The
question just slipped out.

He exhaled a laugh. “No.” He passed a quick hand over his
jaw. “I don’t need the beard scraper but two or three times a week. I seem to
have been remiss.” And, the amusement pronounced, “It could be some day I might
need a beard to lend me some presence. I am aware that, even when I am wearing
my best clothes, I look like someone’s junior clerk.”

Perhaps because of Dhes-Andis, the subject of families was
not far from my thoughts. “Does your father look like a clerk? You and Thianra
are so different. What are your parents like?”

“My father looks like what he is, an archivist,” Hlanan
said. “On normal days you will find his fingers stained with ink, his robe
dusty, and a feather quill or two stuck behind his ears. Thianra’s father is an
artist—ho, there they are.” His eyes narrowed, and he beckoned to me, drawing
me under a leafy tree near the road. “After we escaped from the galleys,
Rajanas was determined to get military training, and though I didn’t, I have
learned a little from him. Such as, avoiding creating a silhouette on a
hilltop.” He gestured to the tree overhead. “And second is to understand search
patterns. There are two search parties down there, faster than I expected. It’s
unlikely that they have anything to do with us,” he said apologetically. “But
they are too far for me to determine whose colors they are wearing. I’d feel
easier if we considered leaving this road altogether, and cutting cross-country
toward the nearest town, where it might be easier to get lost among the
populace.”

“Dhes-Andis did say he was sending somebody to find me,” I
said, my shoulder blades prickling as I scanned the peaceful countryside again,
at least as much as I could see. “I tried to make him think I was going to
Thesreve, in case he really could do that. Can he?”

“If he had riders along the border, he could. Even he cannot
send armies hither and yon via magic.”

“I wish Tir would find us.” I dug the last bean out of the
cap, sighed, and began stuffing my hair into it. If we were being chased, the
sight of my hair would be worse than a beacon.

“I think I transferred too far for Tir,” Hlanan said with
obvious regret. I finished tucking my tail into my trousers, rolled up my
now-dry second outfit (I still could not believe the profligacy of owning
two
outfits!), and tucked it into the
knapsack, and turned to find Hlanan staring. “You better keep the cloak.” And,
“Which way?”

He blinked, then pointed in a northwesterly direction. “On
that last hill, I caught sight of a trade town alongside a lake. From what I’ve
seen so far, the searchers, if they are searching for us, are mostly looking to
the east. Let’s take an unexpected route.”

“Shall I summon horses?”

“I think we’re better on foot, though it’s slower. We can
hide if we’re not mounted. And I’d rather not draw attention by an unexplained
stampede of animals in our direction.”

“Lead on.”

We left the hilltop directly, and plunged down the wooded
slope, following a stream until we found ourselves deep in a valley. Water
trickled everywhere, unseen; slow-stirring air smelled of a thousand kinds of
herb, shrub, and tree. On the steep slope of a river streaks of dirty snow remained,
stippled with small paw prints.

We picked our way along the riverbank until the folds of
land on either side of us gradually began opening as the river broadened.
Presently Hlanan glanced at the westering sun and, “You should probably take
the cloak back.”

“Why?”

“Because we should begin seeing signs of habitation soon,
and possibly a road. I’m afraid you’ll catch the eye. It doesn’t quite cover
all your hair in back. Not many have silver-blue hair.”

“Oh. Didn’t think of that,” I said. “Well, if we can get to
yon town before the shops close, just let me get about for a bit, and I promise
you, nobody will recognize me.”

“It’s those searchers who worry me. And anyone else who
might pass by and be questioned.”

I was about to retort that I was very good at avoiding
possible pursuit, but then I remembered the first time we met, I was running
just ahead of a howling mob. I jingled the coin bag hanging inside my loose
clothes. “I can hide. And when we get to town, we’ve got this.”

So it was.

The sun had just set when we drifted into town, me going
first, and him a hundred or so paces behind. We agreed to meet in the town
center at the next bell, and find a place to stay.

The lakeside portion of town was the busiest. A coin here,
and trade there, and my nice new silken outfit vanished piece by piece. When I
rejoined Hlanan, at first he looked right past me, gratifying me so much I
chortled. Then he whirled around, and whistled. Then sniffed. “A very
convincing urchin,” he said appreciatively.

“There is nothing like a sprinkling of overheated horse and
rancid onion to keep nosers at a safe distance,” I said, flapping the front of
my new tunic, a patched, tattered garment I’d traded the pretty orange silk
sash for.

He peered down at me. “What is that sticking out of your
cap?”

“Horse hair. I stopped by a stable, and pulled the hairs out
of a curry comb. The splotches are just mud. Nobody will see any silver now.”

“Excellent. Here is your apron,” he said, handing me a
sturdy canvas covering, with many pockets sewn on it. “We are now locksmiths.”

I’d given him some coins before we parted. He’d been as busy
as I was; his clothes were now worn, patched laborer’s clothes of dull green
and brown. Over it, of course, he wore the apron, with the guild stitchery over
the top pocket.

He led me back to the poorer side of town, away from the
lake, where he’d taken a room with a cubby off it at a rundown but popular inn.
It catered to laborers and artisans’ apprentices. The common room was jammed
with brightly dressed people, four and five or even more sitting shoulder to
shoulder around little tables meant for two or three at most.

We threaded through to a tiny table, covered by a clean
cloth with cheerful bunches of cherries embroidered on it. This table was on
the opposite side from the low dais, where an act with two singing women and a
pack of dancing dogs performed with loud vigor. The crowd at that end was
solid, loud, even roistering as mug-waving customers sang the chorus along with
the two-legged performers.

Not long after we sat, a brawny young fellow set down two
plates, two bowls, and two mugs of ale. The food was plain, but delicious:
plenty of hot bread and cheese on the plates beside roasted bits of fish on
skewers, and spicy bean-and-rice soup in the bowls. I put my fish skewers on
Hlanan’s plate. He inhaled them, licking his fingers after each bite.

When our hunger had abated some, I asked, “Do you know
anything about locks?”

He grinned. “As it happens, I am pretty deedy with them. Not
among the best, as I only spent a winter season working at it, but good enough
to have passed through a few locked doors during my first encounter with Geric
Lendan.”

“Hah,” I said, flourishing my bread. “Crime!”

“I am aghast at your insinuations. My movements were
investigative
. This untoward glee at my
lapses in civilized behavior grieves me,” he said soulfully, but he was mocking
himself, as he knew, and I knew he knew—and he knew that I knew that he
knew—that he had been in every respect a thief. Even if he hadn’t actually
purloined anything.

I was about to ask why a scribe would study both magic and
locksmithing, when the door slammed open and tough-looking armed guards in dark
purple surcoats stamped in.

Instinct was faster than thought. Between one heartbeat and
the next I’d sunk under the table, my bowl and plate clutched against me.

“Hi, there,” the innkeeper’s deep voice rasped. “I’ll not
have my custom disturbed!”

“We are on orders directly from our king,” was the accented
response. “We seek a Hrethan who has been endangered. We are to provide safe
escort.”

“Hrethan!” the innkeeper exclaimed.

“Female, appears to be somewhere between fifteen and
twenty-five years, brown eyes, not blue.”

“There are no brown-eyed Hrethan here, or any other color,”
the innkeeper stated. “Hrethan not being part of our usual custom, whatever
age.”

His sarcasm raised a belly laugh from the avid watchers.

“Now get along, please. I’ve broken no laws, neither me nor
my custom, and I’ll thank you to send
that
to your king in Liacz.”

The door slammed. The air promptly filled with voices
exclaiming, cursing, demanding answers to questions. Above them all the
innkeeper roared, “Where’s our entertainment?”

A clash of cymbals, a tweetle of pipes, and the singing
started up again, ragged but determined.

I oozed back into my chair, and settled my dishes on the
table.

Hlanan’s brows lifted. I was about to speak, but glanced
around, and caught a puzzled look from a woman at the adjoining table. I
scowled and crouched over my plate, breaking the last of my bread into pieces.

Hlanan said in the slurred accent we’d been hearing around
us, “Mind your manners, rascal. No more diving for coins under the tables!”

The woman looked away again, and we finished our meal in
silence, then Hlanan (who was fighting yawns) led the way out. I slouched after
him, doing my best to appear the dejected young apprentice.

The room we’d been given was tiny, the cubby off it barely
enough to spread out a blanket on the floor.

As soon as Hlanan shut the door, he muttered a spell and
light sparked, catching on the wick of a very small piece of candle. He set the
candle on the bare table next to a bed with a sagging middle, sat down, and
gave himself up to silent laughter. “Under the table?” he finally said.

“Habit.” I shrugged.

“Probably as well.” He poked the sagging middle of the bed.
The slats beneath groaned unpromisingly. “‘Hrethan.’ Well, we know at least one
of their targets?”

“Unless there’s another Hrethan besides me running around.
What was that about the king of Liacz? Aren’t we in Namas Ilan?”

“We are. I take it you do not know the local history?” The
candle light flickered in his eyes.

“Nothing. This is as far north as I’ve ever been. As I
remember ever being,” I corrected.

“A succession of terrible rulers resulted in a civil war
after the last king died, and his descendants squabbled over the crown. After
two years of the countryside being laid waste as this prince fought that
princess and back again, the populace rose against the few contenders left, and
appointed a council made of guild leaders and free-town mayors. That lasted
about ten years, until the corruption disgusted the populace all over again,
and civil war threatened. The last act of this council—as the people howled
outside the old palace, wanting to hang the lot of them—invited the King of
Liacz in to help keep the peace. He was very glad to oblige, and his warriors
are still here. Nobody wants them, but nobody knows how to get rid of them. The
kingdom is too impoverished to organize against Liacz.”

“This inn, at least, seems to be doing well.”

“I will venture a guess that most of that custom works for
their bean soup and bread. You saw how little trout there was on those
skewers.” He glanced at the candle. “If you wish to change, I suggest you take
that bit of candle into the closet before it burns out.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I just got my new outfit. It needs at
least six months of proper seasoning before I change.”

“Seasoning!”

“Yes. If capture is likely, I might add a layer of vintage
fish in aid of the rancid onion.”

“A formidable threat. Do you want the bed?”

“I think that thing would smother me. I’ll take the floor,”
I said. “I’m used to floors.”

“At least have the blanket,” he said. “It’s chilly in here.”
He pointed to the open window high on the outside wall.