The Thief's Gamble

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Ryshad sat back on his heels. 'Whoever's in charge here is a clever bastard. Why do you think we're being put together one by one like this? Assume everything is being calculated to disturb us, to eat away at us. And fight it.'

  I don't know if we were being listened to somehow, either our words or what we were thinking, but I can't believe it was coincidence that the door opened again a breath later and the guards threw in another limp body.

  I recognised the fur-trimmed cloak before Ryshad rolled the corpse over to reveal what was left of Geris's kindly, freckled face. I choked on something halfway between a wail and a scream and clapped my hands to my mouth to stifle any further outburst.

  Ryshad came and put his arm around my shaking shoulders.

  'It's Geris?' he asked softly, already knowing what the answer must be.

  I nodded numbly and then broke into shattering sobs. I had been dreading this moment. Logic had told me to expect it but my gambler's blood had kept urging me on to hope for the kind of improbable ending Judal used to stage at the Looking Glass. I had lost friends before but the danger had been part of the wager, part of the game, and we'd all gone in eyes open. I had not been able to shake the conviction that Misaen would somehow look after Geris, in the same way he cares for drunks and little children. He was too nice a person for anything really bad to happen to, surely?

  Grief for Geris welled up inside me and flooded my mind. It fed on fears over my own fate, the shock of the violation I had endured, the sense of failure of our mission for Planir and biting dread at what might happen when this white-haired man led his cursed yellow-heads over the ocean. Irrational guilt that this was somehow all my fault lashed at me; I knew how the world works, I should have taken care of an innocent like Geris. My defences, my hard-won optimism, the hope that we might somehow survive this crumbled utterly. I wept as I had never wept before, sobbing like a little girl whose world had collapsed over a broken doll. I cried until I felt hollow inside, trembling with spent emotion, my head pounding, eyes swollen and sore, insensible of anything beyond the all-encompassing pain of the moment.

  Gradually, the storm passed, as all upheavals do. I reached the point where wailing was an indulgence rather than a relief and I became aware of Ryshad's strong arms around me, his masculine scent and the fine curled hairs of his chest that I had soaked with my tears. I drew a deep, shuddering breath and allowed him to sit me against the wall. In some remote corner of my mind it occurred to me that we should all be finding this acutely embarrassing but I really could not be bothered. Ryshad fetched me water and Aiten wordlessly handed me a scrap of linen torn from Shiv's shirt. I wiped my face and leaned back, exhausted. That was when I again wondered if we were being spied upon and a faint spark of anger began to fight back against the chill deadness of grief in my mind.

  I looked over at Aiten and saw he was glancing between Shiv and Geris, shame and defiance confused on his face. He felt my eyes on him and bit his lip but met my gaze squarely.

  'They don't really need all their clothes, do they? To be honest, I'll be able to think a lot straighter without my stones swinging about in the breeze.'

  'True enough.' I fought to keep my voice calm when inside I was screaming at him to keep his stupid hands off my friend and my lover.

  Ryshad gave me a glance which made me think he understood my feelings. 'We can't give Geris any kind of burning but we can lay him out and say the rites over him,' he said softly. 'He deserves that, at least.'

  So we stripped Geris, washed his poor broken body as best we could and wrapped him in his good wool cloak, achingly redolent of the herbs he'd used to sweeten his linen. I wept again as I saw the ruin of the fine delicate hands that had given me so much pleasure; all his fingers were broken and one had been completely cut away. Nails were missing on hands and feet while soles and palms showed the thin welts of repeated beating with some hard, fine rod. Blisters and burns showed where hot irons had been used on his face, the insides of his arms, and thighs, and groin. His firm, full lips, so well suited to kisses and being kissed, were split and bruised. One of his arms was broken in a couple of places and his jaw and several of the bones in his face were too. He had lost most of his teeth, either smashed or ripped bodily from the gums. Slow tears ran down my face as I closed those soft brown eyes that I had grown used to seeing alert with curiosity and keen with innocent goodwill.

  My sorrow was not diminished but my anger mounted as we did not find the one thing I was looking for, the final dagger stroke, the mercy blow that would have released Geris from his agonies. It was not there and I began slowly to burn with a determination to somehow repay the white-haired, ice-hearted bastard responsible, to strike back in some way before I died.

  Looking at the shattered corpse that had once been Geris, I finally realised we would never get out of this alive.

  None of us had any coin, of course, so we pried dirt from the treads of Geris' boots and made mud to write our names on his palm so Poldrion could record the debt to us. I added Shiv's name and, after a moment's hesitation, Darni's; I didn't think he would mind. We spoke the words of farewell over him, Dastennin's rites proved similar enough to the ceremonies of Drianon that I was used to and I figured Poldrion would know what we wanted. I covered his face for the last time with the hood of his cloak and sat, head bowed, at his side. It was the lowest point of my life.

  'Tell me about him.' Ryshad handed me Shiv's over-tunic as he laced on Geris' breeches and sat beside me.

  I shook my head in mute pain but Ryshad gripped my arm and I looked up to see intensity in his face and tears standing in his eyes.

  'Talk to me, tell me what he was like, remember the good things, the happy times.' A single tear fell down his cheek, unregarded. 'If you don't, you'll only ever be able to remember him like this. I sat with my sister while she sickened and died with the dappled fever and believe me, I know. I couldn't see her past her death pains for a year or more. That's what started me on Thassin.'

  I could not think what to say but Ryshad persisted. 'I never knew him. Do you think we would have been friends? What was he like?'

  'He was a good lad, genuinely good-willed,' I said eventually. 'Quite innocent in some ways; no idea of the real value of money and too trusting for his own good. He was loyal, loving.' My voice shook.

  'Were you…' Ryshad did not know how to continue but I knew what he meant.

  'We were lovers but more by accident than anything else,' I said frankly. 'I think it meant more to Geris than it did to me. He's from a big family and from what I saw, he loved children. He may have had ideas about settling down with me but it would never have come to anything.'

  Regret for the loss of something I'd never actually wanted was stupid but it still cut me like a knife.

  'Saedrin, who's going to tell his family?' Fresh tears tumbled down my face; I would not have believed I had any left in me.

  'Were they close?'

  'I think so. He talked about them a lot.' I was suddenly uncertain. How much had I really known about Geris? It hadn't seemed important before; now I wondered what I might have found out, if I'd taken the trouble.

  I told Ryshad about Judal and the Looking Glass, about Geris' endless curiosity, his artless chattering on about everything and anything, Calendars and Almanacs, different systems of electing kings, writers ten generations dead and burned. As I talked, I realised how incompletely I had known Geris; where had his fascination with his stupid tisanes begun? I wondered. I recalled the fight at the Eldritch ring, Geris' bravery and his unexpected coolness in a crisis; where had he learned such courage?

  When emotion threatened to choke me, Ryshad countered with his own stories, talking about his brothers and his lost sister, about horses he had owned and scholars he had met, anything that followed on from what I had been saying.

  I don't know how long we talked. The room darkened and later was illuminated by the glow of torches from the yard above but, at the end, I was calm and Geris was at least alive in
my memories again; I could see him as I had known him, not as the broken thing at the side of the room. Geris had told me the Aldabreshi reckon no one is truly dead until the last person who knew them is dead as well. I realised I might have some idea now of what they meant.

  The Guest-house at the Shrine of Ostrin

  Bremilayne,

  2nd of For-Winter

  Allin sighed at the triangular rent in the knee of Darni's breeches. She was sitting in the window seat, knees drawn up, glancing intermittently out into the narrow rain-dark street. She thought she'd escaped tedious tasks like doing everyone's mending and she did miss the hard, clear winters of Lescar, so unlike this drizzly place. A knock at the door startled her and she hastily put her feet to the floor, straightening her skirts.

  'Come in.'

  'Good day.' A man about Allin's father's age opened the door, lowering a wet hood to reveal neatly cut dark hair and a clean-shaven face. 'Are you Allin?'

  'Of course she is.' A shorter man pushed past to warm himself at the meagre fire; he shed a tattered cape to reveal disordered grey hair and a ragged beard, and turned piercing blue eyes on Allin.

  'This is a piss-poor fire, lassie. Ring for more coal!'

  Allin didn't like to admit she hadn't dared to.

  'Never mind that.' The dark man smiled at her, his grey eyes kindly. 'We're here to see Casuel and Darni.'

  Apart from the Gidestan accent, he reminded Allin of her Uncle Wan-in. 'I'm afraid they're both out at present, sir. Can I tell them you called? You could leave a note.'

  She put her sewing aside, remembering the social graces her mother had striven to teach her. 'Shall I ring for wine or tisane?'

  'Thank you, wine would be very welcome.' The dark man hung their cloaks on the pegs and went to warm himself. His hands were white with cold, nails blue-tinged.

  Allin clasped her own hands tight together and went to ring for a maid. The echo of the distant bell rolled around the silence in the room.

  'Are you seafarers?' Allin hazarded an attempt at polite conversation.

  'Of a kind.' The little man shot her a wicked grin and, to her chagrin, Allin felt her inevitable blushes rising.

  'We are wizards, colleagues of Darni and Casuel.' The dark man smiled at some private amusement.

  The door rattled and saved Allin from having to find an answer.

  'Fine, tell me something I don't know, Gas!' Darni stormed in.

  'Good day.' The dark man turned from the fire and Allin was treated to the rare sight of Darni at a loss for words.

  'There's no—' Casuel's words trailed off as he entered. 'Planir?'

  He swept a hasty bow and Allin managed a ragged curtsey before her knees failed her and she landed on the window seat with an audible thump.

  'Archmage, Cloud-Master.' Darni made the deepest and most sincere bows Allin had seen him perform yet. 'You are very welcome.'

  'What have you done about a ship?' Otrick scowled at him.

  Darni scowled right back. 'No one's prepared to risk the currents, the storms, the sea-monsters, you name it.'

  'Messire D'Olbriot is going to see if he can negotiate something for us,' Casuel added hastily.

  'I'm sure someone would change his tune if Messire started issuing a few direct orders,' Darni grumbled.

  'That's not how things are done in Tormalin,' Casuel snapped, before he remembered himself and looked nervously at Planir. 'Pardon me, Archmage.'

  Darni ignored him and turned to Otrick. 'Who else is with you? How many swords?'

  'At present, it is just the two of us. We thought we should come on ahead,' Planir answered with a glimpse of authority which stifled the waiting questions on Darni's lips. 'I was concerned about the potential problems of acquiring a ship at this time of year.'

  'I'm sure we'll manage, I mean, Messire D'Olbriot has offered us every co-operation and I'm sure he'll get permission for us to approach other sailors,' Casuel insisted.

  'If D'Olbriot's mariners won't sail in this season, I can't see any others agreeing.' Planir's tone was gentle enough but Casuel still looked as if he'd been kicked in the shins.

  'Right, then we'd better try someone else.' Otrick rubbed his hands together gleefully.

  'Who else is there?' Darni was clearly puzzled.

  'Pirates!' Otrick said with relish.

  The door opened before anyone could respond and the maid looked curiously round.

  'Wine, please,' Allin said faintly. 'And more coal,'

  'May I ask how your discussion involves pirates?' Esquire Camarl stepped around the maid and took his time hanging his wet cloak over a chair.

  'Oh, Esquire, that is, well, my, that is…' Casuel looked from Otrick to the young noble in an agony of indecision.

  'Esquire Camarl D'Olbriot,' Darni stepped forward, 'may I introduce Planir, Archmage of Hadrumal, and Otrick, Cloud-Master of the New Hall.'

  Camarl swept a low bow which Planir returned while Otrick contented himself with a curt nod.

  'I was saying that the only way to get a ship at this season is to ask a pirate.' Otrick's eyes shone with a challenge.

  'That is an interesting proposition,' Camarl said cautiously.

  The wine arrived and Camarl took his time adding warm water and honey; Planir joined him, which effectively silenced Darni.

  'It is certainly possible that a pirate would agree to put to sea when a regular mariner will not.' The Esquire sipped his drink. 'However, we should have to pay an extortionate price for that rather dubious privilege.'

  'Coin's not a concern,' Darni said robustly, refusing water for his wine and tossing it down.

  'I confess I would not know how to contact a pirate.' Camarl shook his head with a slight smile. 'My acquaintance has been limited to watching them swing on dockside gibbets.'

  'Oh, I can take care of that. I've sailed with half the rigging-slashers in these waters.' Otrick grinned with relish at the shocked expressions all around him.

  'I can see that you find this a startling proposal,' Planir said smoothly as he looked around the room. 'However, unless any of you have new thoughts, I fear it is our only remaining option.'

  There was a glum moment while everyone exchanged enquiring glances and rueful shakes of their heads.

  'But what's to stop some pirate just taking us out of sight of land, cutting our throats and dumping us overboard?' Casuel burst out suddenly.

  'Me, for a start,' Darni snarled. 'Saedrin's stones, Cas, what kind of a wizard are you?'

  'Caution is all very well, Casuel.' Planir moved swiftly to fill the awkward silence. 'However, your colleagues are in some considerable peril and we must act swiftly to have any chance of saving them.'

  'What do you mean?' Darni looked-at the Archmage in consternation before rounding on Casuel. 'Haven't you been scrying them?'

  'They've been captured, you oaf.' Otrick was barely Casuel's height but he still shrank away from the old mage's contempt.

  'I've been, that is, I meant to, but there's been so little time…' Casuel's voice rose to a despairing bleat.

  'It does seem to have happened rather suddenly.' Planir moved to sit at the table, breaking the circle which was closing in on the hapless Casuel. 'That's why we've come on ahead.'

  'That, and so you could avoid all sorts of awkward questions in Council!' Otrick sniggered as he refilled his cup.

  Casuel looked horrified as Darni and Camarl laughed with him.

  'Sadly, that is also true.' Planir winked at Allin, who was watching the whole conversation wide-eyed. She giggled, caught by surprise, and clapped her hands to her mouth, mortified.

  'Right, if you've quite finished flirting with the new talent, oh revered Archmage, let's go.' Otrick drained his goblet. 'You'd better stay behind, blossom. If I take a pretty girl like you to the places we're going, I'd like as not have to pay to get you back!'

  Otrick caught up his cloak and marched out. Planir swept Allin a florid bow and sauntered after Darni and Camarl, leaving Casuel hovering in the
doorway like a badly trained footman. He lifted his chin and tried unsuccessfully for a look of quelling disapproval.

  'Don't you get yourself into any foolishness,' he snapped.

  Allin managed to wait until he was out of earshot before she laughed.

  Casuel looked wildly round until he saw the valiant green of Esquire Camarl's cloak heading down the hill. He made after them hastily, nearly slipping over on the wet cobbles of the steep street.

  'This way.' They followed Otrick down a narrow alley where the houses looked like heaps of boulders that had unaccountably sprouted chimneys. The ordure underfoot grew more and more acrid, while heaps of refuse whispered with the rustle of rats. Inn-signs were clearly out of fashion in this neighbourhood but the doorpost formed into a crudely carved woman holding a flagon between her naked breasts conveyed her message clearly enough.

  'Here we are.' Otrick gave the whore a familiar slap on her smooth wooden buttocks.

  The others followed, Darni scowling blackly, Camarl's expression a well-schooled blank, Planir smiling as if he were enjoying some private joke and Casuel patently horrified.

  The buzz of conversation stopped dead. Casuel trod on Darni's heel as the bigger man stopped, folded his arms and glowered at the assembled company.

  'Stop looking as if you're daring someone to spit in your eye, Darni,' Otrick said acidly. 'If I wanted to start a dog-fight, I'd have brought a mastiff.'

  Darni transferred his gaze to the assorted women hovering around the rickety stairs and his look became more of a leer. One came over, her bodice sporting a frill of dirty lace which patently failed to conceal the rosy jut of her nipples.

  'Hello, old man. Haven't seen you here for a good few seasons.' Closer, the daylight betrayed the wrinkles beneath her whore's rouge.

  'I've been busy, sweetheart.' Otrick waved an expansive hand.

  Darni sat stiff-backed on a settle against the wall; the Esquire and the Archmage took stools, conveying an impression of being completely at ease, although Camarl did betray a certain loss of poise when he turned in response to a tap on his shoulder to find himself looking straight down the cleavage of a rumpled blonde, bending down to offer him a cup of wine.