Liar's Island: A Novel (14 page)

“Oh, once or twice. Hrym is very popular, but somehow he always finds his way back into my hands.” The first scam he and Hrym had ever pulled together was enchanting an ordinary sword to look like Hrym and selling the fake as the real thing. It was still a reliable fallback job when they couldn't come up with a better scheme. People seldom complained about being duped, though obviously
someone
had, if she'd heard about it. Usually no one liked to admit they'd been played for a fool, which was a great help when it came to providing tricksters with job security. He wondered if she might tell the wrong person about that detail from his background and spoil his plans with the thakur. Probably not; the thakur was unlikely to give an audience to a woman from Nex, or take a message from one too seriously. Still, it might be better to keep her happy. “So it's theft you want, then? I haven't been given the keys to the thakur's private vaults, alas. What do the Arclords want to steal from the palace that
I
could reach?”

She hissed at him. “Speak softly! Don't mention the … those particular lords, here, if you're wise. Jalmeray has decent relations with Nex as a whole, but that … particular faction … is not looked upon fondly on these shores. Yes, it's true I'm from Nex, but I'm here for my own reasons, not a servant of
those
particular wizards.”

“Fine, then what do you, personally, as a private individual, want me to steal? Please tell me it's the jewel from the navel of the thakur's prettiest wife—that would be an enjoyable challenge.”

She smiled. “Mmm. It would be, wouldn't it?”

Rodrick blinked. This was a more interesting woman than he'd initially supposed.

“But, no. Nothing so … adventurous. Or as likely to end with your messy death. I have not come to Jalmeray for jewels—you can find jewels anywhere. I'm here because I love knowledge.”

Rodrick grunted. “Knowledge can be nice. Like knowing where a chest full of gold is kept, and how well it's guarded. Or knowing a secret a rich person would rather
keep
secret—that can be useful knowledge. I'm not an intimate of the thakur's, though. I don't imagine he'll tell me anything that could be used as blackmail.”

“You misunderstand me. I'm a collector of old things, forbidden and forgotten knowledge, and there's something in the palace I'd like very much for you to collect on my behalf. The thakur has a great library, and in that library there are thousands of scrolls. I want one of them. As a guest in the palace, you have access to the library, yes?”

Rodrick nodded slowly. He'd paid more attention to the parts of the tour that involved the dining room, and the gardens, and the baths, and the long gallery with precious works of art (including some statues small enough to fit into a pocket without making much of a bulge)—but yes, there'd been a library, too, with tall wooden doors carved with the image of a serenely smiling woman with four arms, holding book and pen and scroll and lantern in her many hands. “I do.”

“If the scroll in question were to make its way to me, I'd be grateful, and by grateful I mean extremely generous with coin.”

Rodrick considered. “Is it likely to be guarded?”

She shook her head. “I doubt the scroll has even been glanced at in centuries. No one will notice if it goes missing. When the Vudrani returned and took the island from the … former inhabitants … they destroyed most of their works and monuments and buildings, but the Vudrani revere knowledge, and so many of the scrolls and books were kept, stored in a dusty corner of the library, where they've remained ever since. Back home, I came across a very old manifest, listing items that were lost in the emergency evacuation of this island, and while most of the books and scrolls are either uninteresting or exist in duplicate form elsewhere, there's one rare item that would be a crowning addition to my collection. I did some research and found out where the items are housed, and came here in hopes of talking my way into the library as a scholar, but the thakur is very particular about letting foreigners into the palace.” She looked him up and down and muttered, “Even though he let
you
in. Why did he do that, anyway?”

“I think I'll keep my business to myself, thanks. We were talking about
your
business. I'm not opposed, in theory, but finding one particular scroll in a vast array of jumbled documents…”

She leaned toward him, suddenly eager. “In that, we are lucky. The records I've seen say the scroll was stored in a very distinctive case—I can give you a description. And if you can't find it…” She shrugged, doing her best to look like it was a matter of no consequence. “Then I will be disappointed, and you will be unpaid.”

Rodrick stroked his chin. It seemed like just his sort of job—low risk for a decent reward. If he'd been asked to steal documents from the thakur's desk, he would have assumed there was some greater intrigue at work, and refused—he was even less willing to be tangled in politics than he was to commit an assassination—but something that could be taken from a library even
he
could access wouldn't be that valuable, would it? He'd met a few collectors in his time, and they were fanatics about the strangest things—particular bits of porcelain from certain places made at certain times, or tiny carvings by artists who'd died a long time ago in impoverished obscurity, or, indeed, very old books and scrolls, sometimes in languages few could be bothered to read anymore.

Which wasn't to say he believed the woman. Safest to assume everyone was lying at all times. But he could take her stated story as a place to begin. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't look at the scroll before whisking it out of the palace. If it appeared to be something more than a historical curiosity—if it were labeled “Incantation to Expel the Vudrani from Jalmeray and Usher in the Return of the Arclords,” say—he could always change his mind and slide it back onto the shelf.

“What's your name?”

She smiled. “You may call me Grimschaw.”

“All right, Grimschaw. Why don't you tell me exactly what I'm looking for, and exactly how much you'll pay me to steal it?”

*   *   *

“Care to come to the library with me?” Rodrick said when they were back in their rooms at the palace. No one seemed to pay any attention to their comings and goings, which meant they were either trusted or considered unimportant or being followed very subtly indeed. The first two were fine with Rodrick, and he couldn't do anything about the third, so no use worrying about it.

“You dragged me through the streets and made me talk to assorted villains all day,” Hrym grumbled. “Put me down on a pile of gold. Unless you're planning to take this scroll by force?”

“I wouldn't like to try to fight my way out of this palace,” Rodrick said. “If a librarian so much as glares at me, I will walk away and consider it a sign from one of this island's ten thousand gods that my pilfering is not to be.”

“Why did you agree to do this, anyway?” Hrym said. “We'll get a trunk full of gold from the thakur. Just the jewels in that scabbard could set us up nicely back home. The money this Grimschaw is offering is nice for the effort involved, but it hardly compares.”

“If all goes well, yes, we'll be rich in two days' time. But things could still fall apart on us, and if they do, won't you be glad I took this other job?”

“No. It's a pointless risk. Admit it. You just
like
stealing.”

“It's good to do what you love. And, yes, fine, we don't
need
this job, but it seems so easy, and it's hard for me to leave coin lying in the street when all I have to do is bend over and pick it up. Even if I'm caught with the scroll, I'll just say I took it from the library to read because it looked interesting. Oh, you mean things aren't supposed to be removed from the library? Sorry, savage foreigner here, my mistake, please forgive me. We're engaged in a high-risk, high-reward venture right now, and I'm happy to offset that a bit with a low-risk, moderate-reward venture.”

“Also a woman asked you to do it, and you like to impress women.”

Rodrick made a face. “Grimschaw? I'd sooner kiss a jar of pickles.”

“She's a human female. What's the problem?”

“My standards aren't
that
broad, Hrym. She looks like she'd bite anyone who came too close.”

“I don't understand at all. You fleshlings all look the same to me.” For just an instant, his blade pulsed red, and Rodrick winced. Yes. Once they had this gold, he would seek out a holy man. Maybe not on Jalmeray—they might need to leave in a hurry—but as soon as they landed wherever they ended up, he'd find help for Hrym's … condition, however much it cost.

“Yes, well, you're only attracted to gold,” Rodrick said lightly. “I wouldn't expect the nuances of my romantic desires to be comprehensible to the likes of you.”

“Have fun in the library. Don't accidentally read a book, it might make your head fall off from the unaccustomed weight of knowledge.”

Rodrick placed Hrym on the bed, atop a liberal scattering of gold coins. Hrym liked the fancy sword stand, but still preferred to rest like a dragon atop a hoard.

Gnawing his lower lip in worry over that red flash, Rodrick went out into the hall. He wished he'd been able to determine some pattern in Hrym's outbursts—it would be convenient if a flash of red were reliably followed by an explosion of ice and a noted surge in bad luck and general disaster exactly ten minutes later. Or not convenient, obviously, but
manageable
. The nature of demons was chaos, though, so it was too much to hope a demonic taint would present itself with any regularity. As long as Hrym could avoid another outburst of boat-wrecking proportion for a few more days … Maybe he should have told Hrym what was happening to him, let him know about his condition. But what was the point? The knowledge could only upset Hrym. Why make Hrym feel bad, when the sword couldn't do anything to prevent his outbursts? Better just to find someone who could help them, as soon as possible. Surely the problem could be cured. Demons could be banished.

Rodrick found the library again without any difficulty. Paying attention to the ins and outs of places, especially places potentially full of treasure, was something he did automatically. He pushed open the tall wooden doors with ease and stepped into the library.

If you liked books, he supposed this would be a sort of heaven—it was certainly a cathedral to knowledge. The floor was all polished marble tiles, and shelves towered halfway to the fifty-foot ceiling, where globes of magical light gently bobbed, casting a bright, even illumination. Some of the shelves held bound volumes, and others had cubbyholes for cased scrolls. Tall ladders on wheels allowed access to the higher shelves. Long tables of dark wood accompanied by straight-back chaired dotted the vast space, each with an alchemical lamp, and overstuffed chairs were placed here and there throughout the room for more comfortable reading.

A male servant, dressed in a vest embroidered with silver, appeared from between a pair of shelves with a book tucked under one arm. He approached Rodrick with rather less deference than most of the servants here showed. “You are Rodrick,” he said. “A guest of the thakur. I did not realize you were a scholar.”

“Nothing so grand,” Rodrick said. “But I do like to read occasionally. I thought I might find a volume and take it back to my room, if that's all right?”

The librarian bowed. “Of course, sir. I would be happy to assist you in finding something suitable.”

That was no good. “Oh, there's no need, I'm happy just to browse a bit.”

The man frowned. “There are upward of one hundred thousand volumes and scrolls in this library. The chance of stumbling upon something you'd like to read by mere happenstance is low. Won't you let me guide you? Are you looking for histories? Biographies of great figures? Tales of adventure? Or books with … intriguing woodcuts?” He didn't quite smirk on that last suggestion, but Rodrick thought he wanted to.

“I will confess my great limitation,” he said. “I can read only Taldane, the common tongue of the Inner Sea. This medallion the thakur was kind enough to provide allows me to converse with you, but not to read your language.”

The librarian nodded. “That does rather simplify things, as most of these volumes are in Vudrani, or other tongues. We do have a small collection of materials written in your language, though many are very old, and the syntax might be a bit challenging.”

“I like to challenge myself occasionally,” Rodrick said.

“In that case, come along.” The man led Rodrick through the library, deep into the stacks, where shadows gathered. The place should have smelled dusty, but it didn't, just clean. The djinn were excellent housekeepers. The librarian snapped his fingers, and a mote of light broke off from one of the bobbing globes above and drifted down to hang about ten feet off the floor. The small light, about the size of a human head, followed them and illuminated their passage.

In a far corner, ten shelves stood off to one side, a little island of literature, and one armchair stood in a corner beside a low table. There was, incredibly, a bit of dust here. Clearly this part of the library was not a priority. “It's all a bit of a jumble, I'm afraid,” the librarian said. “Most of these books and scrolls were on the island when our people returned, though some newer volumes in your language brought by travelers have been shelved here, too, over the years. I think there was some attempt made to organize it, once upon a time—there's a row of books on natural philosophy, and here are a few cookbooks, if you can call what the people of Nex do ‘cooking.' But none of it has been properly inventoried yet.”

The Arclords had been driven off Jalmeray long centuries before. If the books they'd left behind hadn't been inventoried “yet,” they likely never would be.