Lhind the Thief (9 page)

I got that stomach-dropping feeling, like missing a step one
hadn’t known. Only in this case, I’d missed a danger I hadn’t suspected.

“. . . and how angry when the Council of Magicians turned
him away and refused to teach him.” Hlanan rubbed his eyes, looking unhappy.
“Well, I just hope Dhes-Andis isn’t involved, that’s all.”

Rajanas shook his head. “If he’d marched on Alezand we would
have heard about it in the harbor.” He smiled. “Despite its modest size he’d
have no easy victory. Kuraf would have seen to that, if everyone else had
failed.” He leaned forward and struck Hlanan on the shoulder. “Cheer up! You’re
too tired, and you’re seeing shadows brandish knives. You and I have been in
much tighter spots than this one.”

Hlanan shook his head. “Maybe it is just tiredness, but I
feel warning all about me.”

That makes two of us,
I
thought, edging close to the table. The punch jug sat untouched near Rajanas’s
arm. Perhaps they were too tired and hungry to drink much, but I was thirsty.

Hlanan went on slowly, “And while it’s true we’ve been in
tighter spots, somehow it was easier then—”

Rajanas gave a crack of laughter. “If you think sweating our
bones out for that shark-teethed Shinjan taskmaster was easier, you must be
tired.”

“But then I was responsible only for myself.” Hlanan stared
down into the fire.

Rajanas and Thianra exchanged a look. Rajanas’s expression
wasn’t scornful or even disinterested and amused. I was surprised to see
concern shaping his steady gaze, in his softened mouth.

Then Thianra brought her palm down flat on the table. “All
right,” she said. “I’ll stay with you until Imbradi, then either you go to
Court, Hlanan, or I. Someone has to report all these disparate signs. If
Dhes-Andis is involved with any of our recent bad luck then all three of us are
marked anyway.”

“I’ll keep trying to signal your Guard,” Hlanan said as he
slid the ring off his finger and dropped it into a pocket. “I’ll try again
anon. As soon as Tir comes back. Perhaps I’ll be less tired after a good meal.”

“Where is the aidlar?” Rajanas said, looking up—just as my
fingers snaked out and made the pinch.

I backed away hastily, raising the jug to my lips for a
hasty swig. His expression went from intensity to surprise, and I think he was
going to laugh, but he never got the chance.

The door slammed open. In dashed warriors with drawn swords.
Their leader paused for the barest instant, then headed straight for Rajanas.

As if released by a spring, my arm snapped out. The jug
sailed through the air and smashed squarely on the leader’s helm.

“Good throw, thief!” Rajanas called, and laughed. He sent
his chair skidding in the way of the attackers and whipped sword and long knife
free of their scabbards.

The leader staggered back, ignoring the ceramic shards and
punch all over his mail-shirt. His lips pulled back into a snarl. “Kill that
one,” he ordered, pointing his sword at me. “The other three we take alive.”

Warriors converged on us, blades menacing. Rajanas and
Thianra (who had pulled out two long knives) spread out so as not to interfere
with one another’s defense. Thianra placed herself before Hlanan, who was not
armed.

Hlanan cupped his hands, muttering fast. Fire formed into a
glow above his fingers. A harsh voice croaked something, and a curtain directly
behind Hlanan ripped as a hereto hidden door slammed open. The warriors had
spread in a circle, and one dashed in and smashed his fist across the back of Hlanan’s
head half a heartbeat before Thianra’s knife came down on his arm. The Scribe,
who’d been involved in some kind of incantation, staggered. The soldier warded
Thianra with his shield and clouted Hlanan again with the hilt of his blade.

Hlanan slumped as Thianra, fighting desperately against
three foes, blocked him from my sight.

A soldier headed my way purposefully. I shoved my shaking
hands into my waistband for my knife, but a kind of swift, sick certainty
stayed my hand: in the past I’d used my blade only for escape, or for dramatic
effect. I’d never been able to kill any living creature. I knew these fellows
would not be stayed by the brandishing of a blade—so I decided desperately that
it was better off hidden.

But I had to act fast. I leaped to the table, and when the
soldier jerked back, startled at the height of my jump, I kicked his elbow with
a whack that cracked on the air. Pain shot up my leg but he dropped his sword,
and I spun around, grabbed up the punch tray and swung it, just in time to
deflect a blow aimed at the back of Thianra’s head.

Smash! Everyone looked up when Rajanas crashed a chair into
two warriors. Wood splinters flew in all directions. Five warriors tried to hem
him in, but his whirling blades kept them at a distance.

A blade whizzed at my knees. I leaped, somersaulted down the
table and came up with a punch glass in either hand. I potted the warriors
nearest, clapping as the glasses shattered on their helms.

“Ho! Hey!” I yelled.

Ze-e-e-em!
A blade cut
the air beside my head. I flipped backward, landing on my hands, and used the
momentum to kick both feet into the swordsman’s chest, sending him crashing
back into another soldier. Then I flipped again, landing on the floor as they
fell in a tangle of arms, legs, weapons and chairs. Two more converged, I
leaped again, kicked a helmed head and spun past a waving blade.

“Oh, good one!” Thianra gasped, backing desperately from the
pressing attack.

Behind her, Hlanan lay on the floor, his hands limp. Anger
flushed through me. Ranging myself beside Thianra, I sent the third glass at a
soldier’s face, wishing the innkeeper had brought up more food.

Why waste it on the betrayed?

That was old instinct, you could say my head. Fast as
lightning flashed an answer from my heart:
Because
I like them.
I didn’t have time to scold myself for a sentiment that no one
felt for me, because—

“Kill the beggar!” the leader roared. “NOW!”

Rajanas’s blades, whirling vertiginously, disarmed two
warriors in a row, and he leaped toward us. “Out,” he shouted at me, his chin
jerking toward the window.

I stayed at my place beside Thianra, trying not to get in
her way as she fought against yet more converging attackers. They were closing
in steadily, though as yet her speed and skill kept them at a distance. A big,
burly fellow rushed me. I met his knee with my heel and ducked under his arm,
jabbed my fists into a broad belly on another, and leaped clear over the table,
just barely avoiding a deadly arcing blade.

Pausing beside the window, I looked back in time to see
Thianra step back to avoid a hard swing, and stumble over the remains of a
chair. Two warriors landed on her.

The rest advanced toward Rajanas, too many for me to do
anything against—

I’m the one with a death
sentence
. I smacked the window wide and whirled through, scrambling onto
the low roof. A running few steps, then I was high into one of the big, shady
trees.

A shimmer! I thought then. Of course! But what? An army of
hideous ghosts? Or . . .

Through the open window below I heard a mighty cheer from
the soldiery. I knew what had happened: they’d finally brought Rajanas down. I
was too late.

So there I was, safe in a tree, and the people who’d taken
me prisoner were now prisoners of someone else.

So now I had a choice. Either I cut my losses and lope for
safety, or I try to find out what was going to happen to them—

The glow of torches and the sound of harsh voices from the
courtyard caught my attention.

“Can we take the rings off this one, at least? He cut up
Raban and Kemm pretty good.”

“This ruby will fetch a good price.”

“I don’t care, just be quick about it,” came a voice of
command.

“I think this one’s only a servant. One ring in his pocket,
and something tight on one finger. No stone in it.”

“That one’s the scribe-mage. Don’t touch anything on him.
Your nose will fall off. Or something worse.”

“Aw, that old ring doesn’t look like it’s worth a tinklet
anyway.”

I edged along my branch and peered cautiously below as the
warriors marched out in pairs, carrying Rajanas, Thianra, and Hlanan. Talk, the
clank of weapons, the clatter of boots and hooves echoed up the stone walls of
the court as they stuffed the three into a waiting coach. Warriors crowded
Rajanas as they stripped him of the jewels that I had mentally claimed as my
own. Hmph! Then out came their own wounded, who got thrown over the backs of
horses if they weren’t on their feet.

After that the warriors mounted quickly and ranged
themselves in formation on either side of the coach. The leader wheeled his
horse and flung down a bag of coins at the feet of the cringing innkeeper. Then
he rode out at a gallop, the rest following behind in a cloud of choking dust
that rose as high as my tree.

A betrayal. They’d been expected, and the innkeeper had been
bribed.

It’s not your problem,
weasel-wit,
I told myself.

I knew that. But I still sat there, remembering Hlanan’s
words about dignity. Thianra’s kindly interest and flashes of unexpected humor.
I tried to harden my heart, to think instead of Rajanas’s cold sarcasm and
ungentle hands, but even he had given me a knife during the pirate attack, when
he’d had no hope of escape.

Meantime, there was that bag of coins . . .

I swung down hand over hand through the tree, and dropped
onto the ground near the kitchen windows. Like many kitchens this time of year,
they were partly open to let out the heat of the ovens.

Next to one of the windows an ancient vine grew. I pressed
my face into it so the leaves would hide me as I peered between the casement
and the wall.

I could see one side of the kitchen, a huge fireplace, and
two or three big tables covered with rows of crockery. A tall woman with a face
like winter was giving orders to a young boy with a loaded tray. The boy hefted
the tray and disappeared. The woman started laying pastries onto the crockery.

I was about to turn away when I heard the innkeeper’s voice:
“Why are ye standing around, ye lazy scum? Get to work!”

Two pairs of unseen feet scuffled away, then the door
slammed.

The woman looked up from her pastries at the innkeeper, who
was now in my view. He smiled at her in a fatuous and cringing way and
dramatically dropped the clinking bag on the table. “So much for your fears,
Runklia. I told you it would be an easy fortune.” He hooked his thumbs in his
belt and rocked back on his heels, puffing out his cheeks.

She stared at him stonily, totally ignoring his swagger, and
shoved the bag to the very edge of the table with her tray. “Fool.” Her voice
was low. “If any of them had escaped you’d soon be dead. What about the
servants?”

The innkeeper’s mouth dropped open. Clearly he hadn’t
thought about them. Then he shrugged, his eyes flickering around like bugs in a
high wind. “Who cares? They can do nothing.”

“They can talk.”

The innkeeper squinted at her uneasily. “Talk? What do you
mean?”

“I mean, you stupid slug, if you are going to serve such as
she whom you bargained with today, you must make sure you think of everything.
Those servants will get back to that young lord’s home and they will talk. If
he lives near, then we’ll have trouble the sooner, because
she
won’t defend us, you can count on that.”

The innkeeper pursed his lips.

The woman went on, soft and venomous, “You will have to kill
them. And quickly.”

Just then my ears caught the faint sound of jingling and
horse hooves disappearing down the road.
That’s
Arbren and the others, or I’m the Emperor of Shinja.

“But I never . . . we shouldn’t have
to . . . ourselves,” he protested.

“If you are the blowhard coward I take you for then you will
have to use some of that—” She nodded at the bag of coins. “—and hire someone
to do it for you. But first you will have to lock them up. In the cellar, where
they cannot be heard.”

He stood there twitching uncertainly, his sweaty face none
the prettier as he wrestled with his choices, then abruptly went out.

The woman picked up her pastries again as if nothing had
happened.

One thing I knew for certain: these two stinkers were not
going to enjoy the contents of that bag.

The woman filled a tray, then turned away to set it on
another table. In that moment I hoisted myself noiselessly over the low sill,
and crouched against a cabinet, keeping the edge of the table between me and
Runklia’s face. I watched her feet come back to the big table. I heard the soft
thud of pastry dough falling into crockery, then she turned to heft another
tray away.

I shot my hand up, grasped the bag tightly so it would not
clink, and my heart pounded as I crouched there under the table while more
pastry thudded into crocks. At last she turned to heft another tray and I
flipped myself through the window into a crouch on the ground
just
as the big door opened again.

The innkeeper said, “Well it’s too late. They put their
carriage to and lit out while we were talking. So if I get asked, I’ll just
say—ho! Runklia, where’d you put my money?”

“Didn’t you take it with you?”

I didn’t wait to hear her answer. Within the space of five
breaths I was through the trees and out into the open fields, running my
fastest.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been both well-rested
and well fed; I ran without stopping until the moon was high. Reaching a
secluded little grove beside a stream, I dropped into long, sweet grass and lay
panting, staring up at the jewel-bright stars until I caught my breath.

When my heart settled back into its accustomed tread, I reviewed
the fight. Rajanas had held some of those attackers from blocking my way to the
window.
Even
a
little
rat
of
a
thief
deserves
a
chance
to
fight
for
its
life
, he’d said when the pirates attacked.
He was a warrior, rough with his hands, caustic of tongue, but in his own way
he was as fair as the scribe and the bard.