The Hands of Lyr (Five Senses Series Book 1)

by Andre Norton

  She had said goodbye to Hansel and Ventro when they had left with such supplies as they had been able to gather for those at Dast and she understood very well that Kryn must be greatly frustrated at his inability to gain the arms he wanted. She had watched him take off several times into the city and wondered if she dared suggest that they take such exploration together—the Shrine of Lyr continued to lie to the fore of her mind.

  This inactivity wore on one. She did not enter the shop without Danus’s call, especially with Gunther there, for she was well aware that he resented her. Just as she kept away from the rooftop garden which, on fair days, was the retreat of Sofina and some of the maids.

  Finally she could stand the waiting no longer and determined to appeal to Kryn. After all, in spite of his dislike for power and what he thought she represented, he knew that she had not come to Kasgar without a purpose in mind which was as important to her as his quest of arms was to him. And she decided to wait no longer to make her move.

  However, she was still munching on bread and cheese for the morning meal which she took with the gearpeople in a separate room—not wanting again to stir Sofina’s possible anger by sharing the master’s table—when they were all astounded by a series of screams echoing down from the upper story of the house. Hand at knife hilt, Nosh was the first to go into action.

  There was fear in those cries and she had lived too long on the edge of danger not to answer to that. She reached the top of the stairs, nearly to be pushed back down them by one of the maids who waited on Sofina, her eyes wide as her mouth, from which continued to resound those screams. Nosh caught the girl by the shoulders and shook her, though the maid was taller and heavier than she.

  “What…” She strove to raise her voice over those cries.

  Before she could gain any possible answer there was a second scream, even more strident, and down the hall pounded Sofina herself, her hair flying, her overdress unlaced as if she had been interrupted in the midst of her morning toilet.

  “Poison… Kill it—kill it!” she gabbled.

  From below came the shouts of men and Nosh heard the pounding of boots on the stair.

  Nosh loosed her hold on the maid and turned to the mistress. “Kill what?”

  “The zark…” Sofina was regaining some of her usual poise. “This… this piece of muck,”—she turned on the maid by Nosh and slapped her with a vicious force which sent the girl back against the wall and slipping down it—“this brainless piece of offal dropped the cage and let it out! Kill it!” She swung around to face the first of the guards—“Find it and kill it! Why did Danus ever give cage room to it?” she demanded of the company at large.

  “But zarks are not poisonous.” Nosh remembered the lizard which had greeted her with its excited chatter days earlier. It had not the appearance of the zarks she had known, for those lacked the brilliant scales and crimson neck frill, but otherwise it shared both their size and general body contours.

  “Fool!” Sofina spat at her, “Go pluck it out of hiding with your bare hands—if you dare. It is poisonous as we all know well. Search,”—she turned now to the guard— “every nook, every corner, every shadow, search it out and kill it!”

  That those of the house believed her estimate of the danger there was no doubt. More of the guards, and with them some of the servants, all armed with clubs or bared blades, pushed their way into the upper quarters of the house.

  Nosh stepped within her own room. There was no use joining in that noisy hunt. In the first place if this refugee from the cage WAS like its Ryft kin, it could move faster than any human. She was very doubtful that they were going to have a successful hunt. And she was wondering about the claim that the creature was poisonous. If so—how did it deliver the poison attack, for it had no fangs such as one of the mafsnakes, no visible stinger on its tail tip as did the clawrunners who lurked under rocks and were ready to assault the unwary.

  She had seated herself by the window listening to the clash and clatter of the hunt in the rooms about. It seemed to have been extended again. Nosh caught sight of men gingerly searching the courtyard below. There was one cry and sudden fall of club but the victim was but one of those rat scavengers which were peculiar to cities.

  They were apparently moving furniture now from the sounds. She looked inward at her own small chamber. Sooner or later they would burst in here and want to turn out coffers, pull the bedding off the bed, and generally reduce the room to chaos. Perhaps she should do the searching first and save herself the consequences of such an undisciplined action.

  If it were kin to the zarks she had known… She squatted down on the floor in the middle of the room and clicked as she would to summon Tarm or Wasin. It took her a couple of tries until she got the proper sound and the uproar of the outside searchers nearly drowned her out. However, she persisted. There came a flutter of color, the blur of a dash so fast her eyes could hardly follow it.

  The zark stood on hind feet, its small forepaws out-reached to close about, with a velvet touch, the finger she had extended. It threw back its head and clicked. Nosh could see beneath that rainbow skin the wild beating of its heart—it was in the depths of fear.

  Very slowly she extended her other hand. For a moment its head reared back a trifle as if its wariness had doubled. But she touched, with the most gentle meeting of skin with scales, its head, rubbing back and forth.

  It took another of those eye-startling leaps and was crouched now on her bent knee, looking up into her face and chittering.

  Poisonous? These city people were afraid of a shadow. And she was not going to turn it over to be sliced or beaten to death for the only reason that it had somehow broken free from captivity. Sooner or later they were going to reach her room, she had to find a hiding place for it.

  Nosh held her hand flat and the lizard leaped from her knee to her palm. Steadying it with her other hand she got to her feet and looked first at the window. She was sure that it could descend the house wall if she were to put it out but that might leave it in the full sight of the hunters.

  No. It gave a tiny chitter and reached out to her with forefeet again as if in entreaty. The bodice of this Kasgar clothing was too tight to conceal it, especially if it moved. But the wide skirt… she flipped up the edge of that as the lizard made another leap to her shoulder.

  The skirt was lined so there were two thicknesses of the cloth that gathered in folds or swung loose at walking. Her knife again. She inserted the point and made a slit, which she tore wider. Would the zark realize what she would have it do? She had never been sure of how much they understood. But she hunched her shoulder a little forward and held the slit apart as if it were the mouth of a bag. The creature leaped, caught at the material, and scrambled its way into the crude pocket.

  Nosh went to work on the room so that the disorder she created suggested a frenzied search. And she just made it in time, for there was a knock at her door and she pulled it open to face one of the house guards, drawn sword in hand and looking over his shoulder, one of the gearmen from the shop.

  “It is not here.” She spread out her hands in a gesture which indicated the upset chamber. “And I know the way of zarks, for they come from my own land. Sooner or later it must seek water—and meat—perhaps you can entrap it so.”

  The guard nodded. “Makes sense, Lady. Don’t see as how we’re gettin’ anywhere with all this runnin’ around. I’ll speak to the captain.” He gave her a nod and backed out of the room, swinging the door shut behind him.

  Had she been wise in suggesting that she knew something of the ways of zarks, Nosh wondered now. More than ever she needed to get out of the house, find somewhere in the open where she might loose her new companion.

  This very day she would speak to Kryn. She had seen him leave in the morning but he never stayed away the full day and he might be back long before dusk and so play her escort for a small essay into the mysteries of Kasgar.

  Now she pulled out that all-enveloping cloak which wo
men wore on the street, though inwardly she balked at so muffling herself. But to go without it was to attract attention at once and she wanted to do her exploring unmarked as a stranger.

  The cloak was equipped with a very wide hood. It was the fashion to clip the center of that to one’s forehair and then allow the extra material of its making billow out nearly like her small charge’s neck frill. This would be better than the pocket burden which might be noted even when there were so many extra folds.

  She was interrupted before she had made any exact plans. One of the gearmen from the shop brought a message from Danus and she obediently sought out the merchant in his small treasure room. His round face wrinkled in a worried scowl and he had a number of small bags laid out on the table, quickly slipping out their contents for a look and then pushing it all back again.

  “There is a stone missing.” He burst into speech the minute she joined him. “That one which you spoke of as ill fortuned. It was my intent to take it in the morning to the Triple shrine and ask that it be perhaps destroyed in the way those who use the power can do. But it is gone!”

  “You have searched all.” She looked around at the numbers of small drawers.

  “Yes—it is not here!”

  Suddenly he got to his feet and went into the outer room, summoning to him by gesture the senior of the gearmen.

  “Has Gunther been in this morning?”

  “Early, yes, Master. He said that you had a special task for him—something to be delivered to the Lord Markus, it would be a most satisfactory sale… that’s what he said,” the gearman repeated as if he privately doubted that fact.

  “The fool…. !” Danus barked. “So he has done it in spite of my orders.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than either Nosh or his employee. Then once more he swung around to reenter the other room, saying abruptly over his shoulder:

  “Your aid, Lady.”

  Once inside he closed the door before he faced her.

  “The other day when you found that stone Gunther spoke of offering it to Lord Markus. The lord is past master of the Goldworkers’ guild and a man of great wealth. But his greatest love is the collecting of unusual gems. That one would certainly take his eye. If the deal has been made, we are in trouble, for Lord Markus does not give up what he has added to his collection and”— he hesitated—“I think what you said of this stone would make it all the more precious in his sight, for he is reputed to have several ill-omened things among his treasures which he never shows publicly. How dangerous is this gem?”

  Nosh shrugged. “Master Danus, that I cannot tell you. A thing which has been a focus for ill can be used again by one who senses what it is and wishes to employ it so. Perhaps if this lord keeps it only for his collection, it will do no harm. But were it to fall into one of the dark brotherhood’s hands—then again, how can we reckon what ill it can be made to serve?”

  Master Danus suddenly looked older, subdued and anxious. “There are tales,” he began and then stopped. “No, gossip is one thing, truth often another. We shall hope that it can be as you say, sealed away in a collection box where it and its owner will come to no harm. But Gunther,”—now he was flushed with signs of a rage stronger than any Nosh had ever seen before—“Gunther shall answer to me for this!”

  Danus was plainly nursing his anger, as he was abrupt and harsh of voice all morning. He had set Nosh to the grading of a new packet of stones which were all of the moon tear kind. Her fingers quickly found those of better value and Danus grunted at her choosing, but accepted her word as to which were best.

  There was still an uproar in the house, to be heard dimly where they sat at work. However, Danus did not appear to take the escape of the zark as any peril, or else he believed that the aroused hunters were fully able to handle that problem. Nosh was careful to adjust her skirt and the creature hiding there made no move. It seemed to the girl that the zark had a better understanding of what would keep it safe than was usual with a pet creature. However, she could not continue to carry it about and must soon find some way of loosing it outside the house.

  It was close to the hour of nooning when Gunther at last slouched into the shop and Danus caught sight of him. Once more the merchant’s face flushed a deep red and he arose from the examination table so abruptly he sent the stones spread out there shifting perilously close to the edge so that Nosh had to spread out her hands to cover them.

  “Gunther!” Danus moved between Nosh and the door to face his nephew. “What dealings have you made with Lord Markus?”

  There was a sly smile on the other’s pockmarked, greasy-skinned face.

  “An excellent one for the house, Danus. He had in his tame expert and it passed the tests. Here—look at what I have added to the house coffers with this deal!” He produced a bag and spilled some of its contents into his hand—pushing that forward until it was nearly under Danus’s nose. He might have decided that the smell of those rounds of soft gold would be enough to enhance his standing with the Master merchant.

  “You sold the dark stone….”

  “How else would I have this?” The young man re-pouched the pieces. “More than we have made for ten-days of dealing, Danus.”

  He was grinning widely and nodding his head as if he needed such action to enforce his words.

  “That stone was not for sale, you stupid fool. Do you want to bring guild law upon us? No man deals in what he knows well is damaged goods—”

  “Damaged goods!” exploded Gunther. “It was a rarity from far places! Lord Markus will be glad to see what we have to offer from now on. Even Lathia has not displayed such a find.”

  “No! She has sense enough not to endanger so her guild oath. That stone is a bringer of evil and it can be easily traced to this house.”

  “I am not a fool! I made an excellent bargain…” Gunther’s gaze swept beyond Danus to where Nosh still sat at the table. “Lord Markus paid near a fortune for it. You listen to the mouthings of that slut”—he pointed to Nosh—“and if I had left it so, would have spoiled a major sale. Evil in a stone—she is crossed in the head, or trying to work you to her own purpose.”

  Danus was sputtering; there were flecks of spittle in the corners of his mouth as if he wanted to spit at the young man facing him.

  “That stone was not for sale. You broke a house order. Get out of my sight, you dealer in trouble! If ill comes of this, you will take full blame. I do not want to see your face again this day—lest I take measures to have it rearranged!”

  His fists were balled as if he fully intended to take out his rage in an assault on his nephew. The other flung the bag at his uncle and turned on his heel to go out of the shop. Danus snapped shut the door of the safe room and stood there, panting as if he had been running a race. He kicked out with his toe and caught the bag, sending it in a clicking roll across to within Nosh’s reach. She bent down and lifted it to the table. It was indeed heavy enough to promise a good sum. Danus returned to his seat and eyed the pouch banefully. Then he grasped it as if it represented something vile and took it to one of the wall drawers, thrusting it within.

  “The stupid fool!” he grated out as he returned to the side of the girl. “Now I must make full explanation to the guild Council—and by rights they will find me irresponsible. A mark against the house!”

  A moment later he addressed her directly. “Lady, I am in no mood now to continue with this sorting. I must give time rather to what I am to say to my fellows.”

  She was glad enough to be released and murmured some placating words, which she was sure he did not hear, for he was staring at the wall now as if he saw a most unpleasant sight there. But he released the door lock for her almost absentmindedly and she went on into the shop.

  The gearpeople were huddled in a knot, whispering one to the other. Of Gunther there was no sign and Nosh was glad of that. She had no wish to confront the man who held her so low.

  However, there was another one just about to pass out of the shop into the inner
quarters and seeing him, Nosh swiftly followed, coming into the hall beyond close enough to touch him if she would.

  “Hold Heir?”

  Kryn glanced over his shoulder and then turned to face her squarely. She did not know just how to enlist his help in her project but she could only make plain what she needed.

  “Hold Heir,” she repeated, “you have learned much of the city—I have seen you going out each day.”

  “What do you want?” he demanded, and there was a defensive note in his voice.

  Nosh came directly to the point. “Have you seen the Shrine of Lyr?”

  He did not answer at once, it was as if his thoughts followed in a different pattern. Then:

  “This day I found what might have been that shrine. It lies in the worst section of town and has long been deserted by the looks of it.”

  “But it is Lyr’s.” She needed so much to believe that.

  He shrugged. “There was a carving on the portal, hands upturned. I saw your priestess make such a gesture to Lord Jarth upon their meeting.”

  “Can you take me to this place?” Her one hand guarded the concealed crystals. If what she sought might be hidden there, this would tell her so.

  He looked impatient, as if he wished her gone and wanted no part in what she desired.

  “Hold Heir,” she said deliberately. “You have that which means more to you than your lifeblood.” She pointed to his sword. “I seek what may be the same to me and the place to begin the search is in the shrine of the One who has made me Her servant….”

  “All right. Get your street cloak and we shall go right away.” It was plain he had no liking for this expedition. She wondered why he would do her so this service when he held her so low.

  It took only a few minutes to mount the stairs. The clamor of the zark hunt was still to be heard—Sofina fiercely urging them on with what approached screams. Back in her chamber Nosh pulled on the cloak, fastening the head clip, then urged the zark out of that skirt pocket. Again the creature appeared to understand what she wanted of it, giving a leap to her shoulder and then burrowing into the puffed back of the hood, where she felt its light weight steady against her shoulders.