Liar's Island: A Novel (15 page)

“There aren't any … dangerous volumes, are there?” Rodrick said. “Jalmeray is famed for its magic, and I've heard that some books used by wizards and mystics can be dangerous to handle.”

“No, no. Any volumes or scrolls with magical qualities were separated out long ago. Those volumes are kept somewhere else, under proper guard.”

Well, that eliminated one concern of Rodrick's—that he was being sent to fetch a scroll of dangerous magical lore.

The librarian went on. “These are no more dangerous than any other book—though any knowledge can be dangerous, in the wrong hands.”

“Someone armed with those cookbooks might commit a crime against the appetite, for instance,” Rodrick said, and the librarian chuckled.

“Quite. There's not much danger of encountering radical knowledge here. Some of my fellows from the Impossible Kingdoms consider those who live around the Inner Sea to be unlettered barbarians. I can only say that my work would be much easier if they
were
unlettered. Instead, they produce a great many written works … but of mostly dubious quality.” He peered at a shelf. “It looks like this is where we put most of the old maps, too. Their literature is bad enough, but the cartography is worse. The Taldans produce these obsessive, detailed maps, merely describing what anyone can see at a glance from the back of a flying carpet. And they rarely ever harness the powers of elementals and djinn to simply remake the land into more useful shapes. It's bewildering.”

“Yes,” Rodrick said. “It certainly demonstrates a shocking failure of imagination.”

The librarian seemed to realize he was, in fact,
speaking
to one of the Inner Sea's barely literate barbarians, and he had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Indeed. I should return to my work, but I'm sure you'll find something here to keep you occupied. The books are very old, but they've been magically preserved, so I don't
think
any of them will crumble in your hands. The light will stay with you until you leave. If you need anything, just shout.”

Rodrick thanked him, and made a show of perusing the shelf of histories until the librarian was well out of sight. Then he began a more systematic search, groaning when he reached the shelf full of jumbled scrolls—the section of unimaginative cartography the librarian had decried. Most of the scrolls appeared to be maps and navigational charts, none of it particularly interesting. Finally, he found a scroll wrapped in stiff waxed paper shoved way in the back—but a tear in the paper revealed a glimpse of black wood beneath. Aha. Someone had hastily attempted to disguise this scroll case, and Rodrick was always interested in things that people tried to hide.

After glancing around to make sure he was unobserved, he tore the rest of the paper away. The wooden scroll case he revealed was about ten inches long, made of black wood, both ends sealed with blobs of pale wax. There were symbols carved along the sides of the cylinder—wavy lines, spirals, an open eye.

The librarian said there was nothing magical here, but the case certainly
looked
like it contained something occult. The case was sealed, presumably unopened for centuries. Rodrick used his thumbnail to break the wax seal, then slid out the single sheet of rolled parchment inside. It was very old, yellowed and tattered, but when he unrolled it on the table, it was still legible. The scroll was, in fact, a map—at least mostly—drawn in dark ink, sketched with hasty lines that were too thick in some places and too thin in others, but the shape of the isle of Jalmeray was recognizable from charts he'd looked at on the ship during his voyage to the island.

On the southern part of the island, there was a drawing of a triangle, with an eye inside. That symbol was familiar, though he couldn't place it exactly; at a certain point, all occult symbols and runes and sigils started to look alike, stars and eyes and geometric shapes, all terribly fraught with meaning, and all terribly boring. A few barely legible lines were written at the bottom of the map, disconnected phrases including: “southern edge of the jungle,” “three hours to walk from the sea,” “east of the old temple,” and “marked by the sign of the eye.” There was a drawing of something, a column or an obelisk, decorated with spirals, wavy lines, and another eye.

Ah, well. Rodrick had seen things like
this
before.

This was a treasure map.

12

The Wicked Counselor

“I found this book,
An Account of a Journey to Tian Xia
—is it all right if I take it back to my room?”

The librarian looked up from the shelf he was organizing and laughed. “As long as you remember it was written by a fool and is filled with more nonsense than truth, of course. It has a certain humorous value as a historical curiosity, and is certainly readable enough. Hmm. It's not a particularly valuable item, but I would ask that you not remove it from the palace. Bring it back when you're done, or leave it in your room when you depart the palace, and a servant will return it to me.”

“Absolutely.” Rodrick smiled and left the library. Those loose, billowing trousers were good for something—he had two scroll cases hidden in his pant legs, shoved partway down in his boots, and he was fairly sure they weren't noticeable. Possibly the librarian would have let him walk out with those, too, but it was better if no one knew he had them, since they wouldn't ever make it back to the library.

Back in his room, he took the scrolls from his pants and tossed them on the bed. “Well, Hrym, this is interesting indeed.” He took out the map and spread it on the table, lifting the sword to let him take a look.

Hrym groaned. “A treasure map?
Really?
Didn't you have enough of hunting treasure when we were in Brevoy? Delving into dungeons and being attacked by bandits and chased by yetis and menaced by swordsmen? Look, it even says there's a
jungle
. Why would we ever want to go into a jungle?”

“I don't propose to
hunt
for the treasure, Hrym. This scroll is so old, who knows if there's even anything hidden away under this obelisk anymore? No, I have a better idea.”

“That idea isn't ‘sell this to the nice woman as promised,' then?”

“We could do that. Or.” He took the other scroll case, opened it, and removed the parchment inside. “This appears to be a shipping manifest. ‘Eighty barrels of flour, twenty barrels of smoked pork,' that sort of thing. I propose we put
this
parchment in the fancy black scroll case, seal the ends so it looks unopened, and sell
that
to our collector. I'm sure she'll be disappointed when the contents aren't what she'd hoped for, but we'll make sure to get paid before she has a chance to discover the problem, and even when she does, what can she do? It's not
our
fault her information was inaccurate and led her to a worthless bit of nonsense, after all. We did the job we were paid to do. Then, when we're back in Absalom, or wherever we're going, we'll sell the map to some treasure hunter. I'm sure Skiver up in Almas knows some fools who'd pay good money for a reason to come to Jalmeray and poke around in the tiger-filled jungles. Why sell something once when we can sell it twice?”

“That should be the motto on your family crest,” Hrym said. “Hmm. It's not a terrible plan, at that.”

“That's high praise coming from you, old friend.”

Rodrick hid the scrolls away, then summoned a servant—there was a rope you pulled to call for help, it was most convenient—and asked for a tray for supper, unless the thakur wanted the pleasure of his company…? No? All right then.

Rodrick sat on the balcony and read from the book on Tian Xia in the fading light, and soon there was a knock on the door. Rodrick opened it, and was surprised to see Nagesh there, holding a covered tray.

“That's service, to have your meal brought by the thakur's advisor.”

“I thought I might join you for the meal, if you like?”

“I'd love the company,” Rodrick lied. He took the tray and led Nagesh to the balcony, the advisor pausing to say hello to Hrym before joining Rodrick at the small table. Rodrick put down the tray, took off the covering, and gasped.

The plate held roasted potatoes, a bloody-rare steak so large it overspilled the sides of the plate, fresh rolls of crusty bread, and mushrooms that smelled like they'd been sautéed in the juices of the meat and some wine.

“I heard you were strolling in the foreigners' quarter today, and thought you might be nostalgic for the food of your homeland. We seldom eat meat here, but I found a nice steak and a cook willing to prepare it.”

Rodrick didn't let his smile falter. “This is marvelous.” How much did the man know about his activities? “When I was out enjoying the festival, I ran into that conjurer—Kaleb, I think his name is? He wanted to apologize for unleashing that horse on us, and took me on a bit of a walking tour.”

“I fear his neighborhood is not the most beautiful part of the city.”

Rodrick waved that away. “The meanest street of Niswan is a palace compared to some of the places I've seen in Absalom and beyond. I did stumble into the wrong sort of tavern when I was looking for a cup of ale, though. I just wanted a cool dark place, and someone directed me down a set of stairs … well, I had to buy drinks for everyone in the place to generate enough goodwill to get out without someone trying to rob me.”

The advisor laughed politely. “Surely, with your sword, no one would dare?”

“Ha. Some of that lot would try to steal Hrym himself from me. I kept him sheathed down there, anyway. I didn't think the thakur would appreciate me causing a commotion in his city.”

“You are correct in that. The thakur does love order.” The advisor leaned forward and closed his eyes. “I confess, I developed a taste for meat when I was studying abroad. Might I have a bite?”

Rodrick cut him off a generous slice of the steak—honestly, it was too rare for his taste anyway, practically still mooing—and offered it on a fork. Nagesh took a bite, eyes closed to enjoy the flavor, and again, for just an instant when he chewed, his mouth seemed …
different
. Wider, somehow, his teeth more like fangs. Rodrick suppressed a shiver. Was the man something other than he seemed? A magician as well as an advisor? That wouldn't be surprising, really. Throw a rock, hit a wizard, as Kaleb said.

Nagesh handed back the fork. “Delicious. Might I inquire, have you considered the thakur's offer?”

“Hrym and I have discussed it. We're still weighing our choices. We're both overawed by the thakur's generosity, but … we've been together a long time, and have gone through a lot together. We have until tomorrow night to decide, don't we? We'd both like to sleep on it for another night. Well, Hrym doesn't exactly
sleep
, but you see what I mean.”

“Of course.” If the lack of commitment bothered Nagesh, he didn't show it as he rose. “I'll leave you to your meal in peace. Feel free to walk out and enjoy the city again tomorrow, if you like. I'll look in on you about this time tomorrow evening—we'll see the thakur, and perhaps you can dine with me again, more formally.”

“I look forward to it.”

Nagesh departed, and Rodrick shut the door after him, then went to sit on the bed beside Hrym. “There's something strange about that man. I'd swear, for a moment, he had fangs.”

“You're probably imagining things,” Hrym said. “Or maybe he's a vampire.”

“Nagesh and I walked together in the sun, Hrym.”

“Oh. Maybe Vudrani vampires are different.”

“You're very comforting.”

“I strive to be so.”

“I'm going to go take a bath. I want to think.”

“I thought we'd done all our thinking already? We have a plan—we just have to execute it.”

“Did you have to say ‘execute,' Hrym?” Rodrick rose. “Enjoy your gold. I'm sticking you on that stand and taking the bed for myself when I get back. We've got too many errands to run tomorrow morning, and I need my sleep.”

“Feeble fleshling,” Hrym said, but fondly, so it probably wasn't the demonic taint talking this time.

*   *   *

Rodrick woke with a gasp to a room baking with heat, flames flickering in his peripheral vision. “Fire!” he shouted, and tried to rise and flee, but something was holding him down—a long golden rope was wound around his body and the bed itself, pinning him in place. He struggled, and the rope tightened like a serpent's coils. Some sort of magic was afoot.

Turning his head in panic, he saw a figure sitting on the edge of the bed. The man leaned forward, and was revealed as Nagesh, face flickering in the flames. “Nagesh? What—”

Rodrick turned his head further, trying to find the source of the fire, and discovered the light came from a fiery creature—an elemental?—shaped like an immense toad, crouching in the corner in front of Hrym on his stand. There were sizzles and hisses as Hrym's icy aura interacted with the elemental's flames, but they weren't outright fighting—that would have torn the entire room apart and killed Rodrick and Nagesh both, so fire and ice were behaving themselves, for now. The only reason Hrym would hold back would be for fear Rodrick would be hurt if he didn't. Rodrick shared that fear.

Once again, Nagesh's face seemed to shift into contours that were somehow inhuman, but in the darkness and mystical firelight, everything looked unreal and flickering. “I understand you need time to think over the thakur's proposal,” Nagesh said, patting Rodrick's cheek with force just short of a slap. “I am here to aid your thought processes. You will accept the thakur's very generous offer.”

“I am completely persuaded,” Rodrick gasped. “I will tell the thakur we agree at this very moment, if you wish.”