Lhind the Thief (8 page)

Thianra and Hlanan led the way outside again. The yacht
bobbed at its pier. Despite its furled sails, its long, low lines made it look
as if it were still skimming over the water.

I paused in the yard and thought about how splendid the
yacht felt moving under full sail, once I’d discovered the mast heads, and I
wondered how one of these might be pinched.
Maybe
you could snaffle the boat, but how about the crew, dolt?
Grinning to
myself, I walked on.

Hlanan and Thianra stood before a high-slung carriage with
four restive horses pawing the cobbled street before it. The carriage was newly
painted an imposing black, and I recognized the device on the side as the same
that I’d seen stitched on Rajanas’s tunic. Next to it an open chariot waited,
with a matched team being held tightly in check by one of the stewards. Two
high-bred horses, their reins held by other servants, danced and tossed their
manes nearby. In back a big cargo coach, piled high with luggage, was also
ready to roll.

Thianra and Hlanan stopped near the chariot, clearly
involved in some kind of disagreement.

Thianra shook her head, and I barely heard her voice, using
some language I remembered from long ago, but didn’t have a name for:
“. . . entertain Kressanthe, and I have. I told you, I heard
rumors of new Kitharee folk patterns up in Barsk, and I need to hear them
myself—”

Hlanan’s voice was too low to make out as his back was to
me, but I heard Thianra’s answer, “Hlanan, you know where my true interest
lies. But just this once.”

“Thank you,” he said. I heard that much.

And they both glanced at me.

Did they think I didn’t understand them? I waved. They
smiled, Hlanan friendly, Thianra more troubled.

Meanwhile, six men whose bearing and purposeful movement
indicated they were warriors, despite the plain tunics like the rest of the
servitors, mounted inside and atop the carriage. Rajanas appeared from the
other side, waved languidly, and the carriage-driver cracked a whip. The horses
started out.

The easy days of sailing plus a good meal had made me
unwary. When a steely hand grabbed my shoulder, I jumped, then wrenched away
and glared up at Rajanas. He tipped his chin toward the luggage coach.

The driver of this vehicle was a big, beefy-looking man with
a rocky, scarred face and a purple nose. He had small, squinty eyes with an
expression like a brick-pile falling on somebody’s head, but his bristly brows
indicated curiosity. If I was to ride with him, maybe a suitable story would
win his sympathy—

“Arbren,” Rajanas drawled, “this repellent scrap is a thief,
hired for some obscure reason by the Scribe. I want those trunks to arrive in
Imbradi intact. You are to see that he has no opportunity to inspect their
contents.”

Arbren’s glance congealed into a glare that would have scared
a weaker soul right off the coach. I contemplated cutting and running, but then
Rajanas tossed me up onto the seat beside the driver.

“Haw!” Arbren gave a knowing guffaw that lost none of its
sneeriness despite a complete absence of teeth.

Rajanas mounted the chariot, and Thianra climbed in beside
him. Hlanan swung into the saddle of one of the horses, a steward mounted the
other, and our cavalcade set out at a gallop.

It soon became fairly obvious that Arbren had at some
point during the day imbibed a goodly quantity of ale and he apparently had not
sullied its purity with any food. For a short while he treated me to what he
considered to be his rare wit, dredging up a lot of stories about what happened
to thieves he’d helped to catch, or had seen caught. I think he made most of
them up. I don’t care how practiced the town executioner is, people’s ears do
not stretch out so one can tie them into a knot.

At any rate the sun beat down upon us, making my head and
neck warm and sweaty. Arbren had recourse to a very aromatic flagon that he did
not offer to share. His purple nose got more purple, and after a time he fell
silent, squinting between the plunging lead horses as if he had a lot on his
mind. Like the weight of a good-sized headache. Settling back on my seat, I
silently wished him well of it.

We rolled through increasingly wild country, scarcely
checking our pace at turns and crossroads. The grassy hills gave way to rocky
inclines, streams and then patches of thick forestland. We passed two or three villages,
stopping once to change horses, then again, much later, when a white shape
appeared overhead, cawing and flapping.

Hlanan’s horse caracoled as the Scribe hailed the bird.
Rajanas signaled a halt, bringing his chariot up. Slowing our heavy coach, Arbren
muttered an oath under his breath. I hunched down, ready to clap my hands over
my ears (as if that would keep its thought from invading mine), hoping the bird
would not see me.

But the bird never looked my way. It cawed at Hlanan,
fluttering its wings in agitation. Hlanan edged his horse near the chariot, and
bent down to talk to Rajanas.

After a short colloquy, Rajanas turned our way. “Arbren!
Pass Khiam. We’ll ride until nightfall, and chance a roadside inn.”

We rolled at once, Arbren muttering under his breath about
blighted birds giving all the orders, and if a body is looking forward to the
ale at the Helmtree in Khiam he has a right to be getting it.

Rajanas signaled for a much slower pace as these horses
would not be changing at Khiam. Even so, somewhere along one of the sharp turns
through a wooded area we lost sight of the third coach.

This didn’t bother me in the slightest, but it apparently
perturbed Rajanas, whose glances backward toward the empty road became more
dire.

It was just before nightfall when he and Hlanan apparently
decided the horses had had enough. For some little time I’d been hearing the
horses’ thoughts getting steadily more tired, and I sensed the animals nearing
danger. I’d learned long ago that horses are the kind, like dogs, who will run
until they die, if that is what pleases their human masters. Which is why I’d
seldom risked making friends with horses.

These were not near death but they were tired and
desperately thirsty. Just about the time I began wrestling with the prospect of
having to make the horses’ need known—without letting on how I knew—we drove
through a village, and on its outskirts neared an inn half-hidden under a copse
of very old trees.

Rajanas flung up his hand again, his fingers pointing into
the brick-paved courtyard, and even Arbren muttered with unfeigned gratitude as
our diminished cavalcade pulled in, slowed, and stopped, the horses blowing and
steaming.

Stable hands ran out, some bearing streaming torches, and
Rajanas stepped down from the chariot, apparently sublimely unaware of
being as mud-spattered and wind-tousled as I on any of my worst days.

I peered through the gloom at the long, rambling building
with its ivy-covered brick facade. It was one of those places only those with
coin, and plenty of it, could stick a nostril into. No thief markings anywhere
in sight, which didn’t surprise me. Some toff places would assiduously scrub
off any markings, even warnings, as a deterrent.

All the windows had good, broad glass, not the pattern of
tiny, warped and rippled panes you usually saw. I decided if I was not to spend
the night hungry outside (for in these places even the stables are guarded,
much less the food) I’d have to stay close by Hlanan.

The innkeeper came out himself, drawn no doubt by the
commotion that indicated a customer of means. He very quickly picked out
Rajanas as the target for his blandishments, and bowing and smiling, he offered
everything he had as his “poor best.” I disliked this man on sight. I knew him
immediately as the type of falsely humble innkeep who would rather burn scraps
than allow hungry vagrants, such as myself, a chance at them.

As Arbren busied himself bullying the stable hands who were
even busier taking care of the animals, I hopped down and drifted near Hlanan’s
side, keeping him between myself and Rajanas. Just in case.

“. . . and we boast well-appointed bedrooms. Adequate, I
trust, for your honors. I will send someone up to light the fires in all the
rooms, if that is your wish, and we will serve supper within the
hour . . .” The innkeep’s round, shining face, tucked with the
dimples and lines of a very broad smile, never turned away from Rajanas as he
led the way upstairs to a private dining room.

“Don’t bother with fires in the bedrooms. It’s not winter.
But we’ll take the food as soon as is possible.” Rajanas waved carelessly at
him and walked off to talk to Hlanan.

The innkeeper took this airy dismissal with an even bigger
smile, and bowed to Rajanas’s back, then to Thianra, who said, “I should be
glad to play for the company, if you wish. No charge.”

The innkeeper smirked and bowed, and utterly ignoring me,
turned to leave. In fact, he ignored me so completely I was able to see the
smile drop from his face like an extra skin from a snake.

I retreated to a corner near a cheerful new fire to wait and
watch. If that innkeeper served the food then I was going to wait till someone
else tasted it before I ate any. And I hoped that if it was poisoned, it would
be Rajanas who found out. Either him or Arbren.

A servant appeared with a tray of cold punch and three
glasses. Rajanas poured out the punch, handing a glass to Thianra.

“Thanks,” she said. “A sip or two, then I will fetch my
tiranthe and tune it. I offered to play.”

“That gives us an excuse to sit in the common room,” Rajanas
said. “Maybe we can overhear something of interest. Can you sense them with
that thing?” he said over his shoulder to Hlanan.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Hlanan was studying a
dark-stoned ring on his finger, a pucker of disquiet creasing his brow. This
was the first time I’d seen him with any sort of ornament beside the
cheap-looking ring he wore on his smallest finger. After a long pause he looked
up, smiling a little as he accepted the glass of punch Rajanas held out. “No
sign of them,” he said.

“I mislike this train of events.” Frowning, Rajanas sat at
the end of the table, and Hlanan and Thianra took chairs on either side. I
crouched on the hearth, making no noise, and wondering when I might snitch some
of that punch. I was thirsty, and I could see that the punch was nicely
chilled. Moisture-drops formed on the sides of the heavy jug.

“First those accursed pirates singling us out for an
attack,” Rajanas said, “just after we happened to get separated from the rest
of the convoy. Second, their having managed to sneak up on us so neatly through
that fog without the slightest warning.”

“I apologize for having fallen asleep,” Hlanan said. “I
could have determined if the fog had been raised by magic.”

“Coastal fog banks are normal this time of year.” Rajanas
shrugged. “You remember. And now this quiet disappearance of my supposed
entourage, both on the road and by magic trace. Maybe I’d better ride back
tonight and see if I can find them.”

“If six of your Guard fell afoul of someone I don’t think
you’ll be able to do much besides provide a bigger prize,” Thianra said.
“Hlanan or I should probably go.” And with a sigh, “I suppose I may as well,
though when I think I could be halfway to sitting around a campfire listening
to Kitharee tritones . . .” She sighed, glancing toward the
door. “Which room is which? I want to find where the servants put my tiranthe.”

Hlanan said, “I wish Tir had a bigger vocabulary.” He
glanced toward the window, and murmured in a softer voice, “I wonder where Tir
is.”

Rajanas didn’t seem to hear that last. “I am the one Geric
surprised in the act of inspecting the ship-works at Jira-Jirai. It is possible
he believed my tale of having another racing yacht built, but only if he thinks
I’m stupid enough to mistake warships for pleasure vessels.”

“Unless he knows that Dhes-Andis is having those ships
built,” Thianra put in softly. “Which means he was there precisely to see who
might want to take a look at them.”

“But he could not possibly have arranged an ambush so
rapidly, either this one or the pirate attack,” Hlanan protested. “He was on
the yacht with us. We saw him off scarce moments before we left ourselves, and
Keprima is no more his territory than it is yours.”

Thianra shook her head. “The more I consider, the surer I am
that it was not whim that brought him aboard your yacht, any more than he was
there to court Kressanthe.”

Geric
. Wasn’t that the
tall, handsome fellow on board the yacht, the one with sapphires bound into his
pale apricot hair?

Then I thought about all these mentions of Dhes-Andis.
Everyone in the world knew of the wicked sorcerer-king of Sveran Djur. Was he
mad at these three for some reason? I got that neck-gripping chill of danger.
If my theft job had anything to do with that sorcerer, even twelve gold pieces
wouldn’t keep me from running.

Thianra added dryly, “I did put a great deal of effort into
deflecting him.”

“Unless he suspects that you are more than just a minstrel,”
Rajanas said, saluting her with his glass.

“Then he would be quite wrong,” she retorted, but she was
smiling in a way that made it clear the suspicion was nothing new.

Hlanan prowled along the wall to the window and back to the
door as he said, “Then there’s Kressanthe, who may be as stupid as she appears,
but who is certainly rich enough and vindictive enough to aid anyone who wants
to make mischief. Which puts us back to our question: which of them is the
enemy this time, and which of us the target?”

Thianra said, “Geric Lendan cannot possibly have traveled
any faster than we have.”

“What worries me is why Geric never commented on the magic
Lhind did, and I remember how interested he was in magic . . .”