by Rich Horton
“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Timon asked. “I tell very good jokes when the mood hits me. At the moment the mood does not.”
“But…I could live like a king on that much gold!”
“One of the poorer ones,” Timon said. “And not for long. Most likely you’ll find a way to gamble it all away or otherwise squander it.”
Jayn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think I would be so foolish with my money?”
Timon smiled. “Because your history suggests that you don’t really care about the gold, Jayn. It’s the challenge and the reputation that goes with successful exploits of thievery that inspire you. You feel you have not gained the reputation you deserve for all your efforts. If there’s more to you than that it’s not commonly known.”
Jayn was going to argue the point until it occurred to him that Timon might have said nothing less than the plain truth. The truth always made Jayn uncomfortable; it wasn’t quite so flexible as a good lie. “Even so, why offer so much? If what you say is true I would accept your challenge for much less.”
“Because I do not wish to offer ‘much less.’ My reasons are my own.”
“Is there an enchantment on the gift? Will it harm the child?”
Timon shrugged. “Does that matter?”
“I’m a thief, not an assassin. Besides, if you do mean to harm the little prince, I might not wish my part in the matter to be known. Gold and reputation together might not be sufficient shield against a king’s revenge.”
Timon nodded. “Point taken. Be at ease—my intention is not to harm the child. If it was, I’d have no qualms about saying so, and ‘persuading’ you to act against your instincts. Do you doubt this?”
“Even so…if I agree to perform this task, how do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“Because, at least on this one point, you needn’t depend on my word.” Timon reached into his pack and pulled out a heavy leather bag. This he extended and dropped within Jayn’s reach. “Payment strictly in advance. Count it if you want.”
Frowning, Jayn untied the bag. He reached far enough down among the gold coins to satisfy himself that, even if the rest of the bag from his fingertips to the bottom held nothing but lead disks, he would still be rich enough to buy a small town and everyone in it. He bit one coin just for show, but he already knew the gold was real.
“You must think I’m a fool,” he said.
“I was withholding judgment,” Timon said. “Why do you say so?”
“Because what’s to stop you from blasting me like that poor tree after I do this task for you?”
“Not a blessed thing,” Timon said affably, “likewise there’s nothing to stop me from doing the same if you refuse, or accept and then try to escape from your obligations. Now. Which two of those three eventualities do you consider most likely to annoy me?”
Jayn sighed. “Are there any conditions to this enterprise you haven’t told me about?”
“Just one,” Timon said. “I’ll be accompanying you to the fortress. Once your task is complete—or you’re killed in the attempt—we go our separate ways once we’re safely out of Wylandia.”
“I work alone,” Jayn said. Which was true usually, but he mostly just didn’t relish the idea of Timon being anywhere near him. The man was pleasant enough company, but Jayn thought that, perhaps, that fire trick might be harder to accomplish at greater distance.
The magician shook his head. “Not to impugn your considerable skills, but you’ll never get into the fortress without my help. Consider this protecting my investment.”
Again Jayn considered his options and again came to the inevitable conclusion that he didn’t have any. “Very well, but just so you know: I don’t trust you.”
Timon just smiled. “Then you’re not a fool. Good. That will help.”
* * * *
There were two known passes through the White Mountains: the Pilgrim’s Road and the Serpent’s Path. The Pilgrim’s Road was jointly maintained and patrolled by Wylandia and Morushe and was the main route of what uneasy commerce existed between the two kingdoms. The Serpent’s Path was little more than a mountain trail. It had watch towers and a beacon system on each end in the event that any armed groups attempted to use it to catch either kingdom unaware, but was otherwise left alone. Jayn wasn’t terribly surprised when this was the route they took to Wylandia. It was easy enough for two men traveling lightly to slip past the watch undetected; not quite so easy to make the other end in one piece.
“You do realize that bandits—and worse—reside along the Serpent’s Path? It’s a natural refuge for the desperate and predatory.”
“Yes,” Timon said. “The Pilgrim’s Road is much easier and safer, but people tend to want to know your business when you take that way. Don’t worry, Jayn. We won’t have any trouble.”
Jayn wasn’t convinced of that until the second day after they slipped past the southern watchtower. A large group of very unpleasant-looking men appeared on a ridge overlooking the pass. Timon merely acknowledged them with a wave of his hand and they just as quickly vanished.
Almost, Jayn thought, hastily.
“Just what is Timon the Black’s arrangement with those men?”
“A simple one: They don’t interfere with my business and I don’t rip the flesh from their bones. You’d be surprised at how reasonable men can be, when the alternative is explained to them.”
Jayn thought about it. “It worked with me, and that’s a fact. Please don’t misunderstand me—the destruction of that tree was intimidating, but that was one tree. Could you really kill all of them? Are you that powerful?”
Timon just shrugged. “You of all people should understand the value of reputation, Jayn. Mine is such that they believe that I can and would. Therefore, I don’t have to.”
“That’s not exactly an answer,” Jayn said.
“Since this particular answer would require proof, I hope for your sake that you never receive one.”
The next morning Timon looked a little unhappy. “There’s been a new development.”
Jayn, who hadn’t quite managed to find a spot of ground without something hard and unyielding under it, wasn’t in the best of moods himself. “What is it?”
“The Queen of Wylandia will be in residence at the palace during our incursion. She was expected to accompany her husband on a state visit to Morushe, but apparently there was some…disagreement, between them. Since the way to the nursery is through her private chambers, this may complicate matters.”
Jayn shrugged. “It would be better if she were not there, true, but I’ve ransacked entire rooms without waking the occupants…wait a moment. How do you know this?”
“Because I’m a magician,” Timon said. “And finding the hidden is what we do.”
After a breakfast of hard bread and cheese they were soon on their way again. It was long time before either of them spoke again, and it was Jayn who broke the silence.
“You know what I think? I think you knew about the queen’s plans all along, and you merely announced it at the appropriate time to impress me.”
Timon smiled. “Interesting theory, and certainly a clever way to create the illusion of true magic without actually producing any. There’s only one flaw in your hypothesis.”
“Which is?”
“It presumes that I have a need to impress you. Jayn, you already know what I will do to you if you betray me. What more is required?”
“We still have a few days before we reach Wylandia. How do you know I won’t slit your throat while you sleep? There’s an end to that threat. I’m not saying I would, mind, but why isn’t it an option?”
Timon smiled. “Let us say for the sake of argument that you have a point. In which case it is in your interest to test the limits of my power, yes?”
“I suppose that’s true,” Jayn said.
Timon shrugged. “All right, but do remember: I did warn you.”
Despite Timon’s ominous implication, noth
ing unusual happened for the rest of that day. Jayn and Timon made good time along the Serpent’s Path, despite the fact that they were traveling mostly uphill. The way was clear, the weather was mild, and the bandits, if any, were keeping well out of sight. They reached the highest point on their route by evening and made camp once more. From their vantage point they could see the plains of Wylandia in the distance and the backbone of the White Mountains stretching out to either side.
The air was thin and cool; both Timon and Jayn kept close to the fire. It wasn’t much of a fire; dead wood was rather scarce in the higher levels of the pass, but it lasted long enough to heat a quick supper and now its dying coals provided at least some warmth. So it was with considerable reluctance that Jayn crawled out of his blankets, crossed the pass, and clambered up a slight rise on the left side of the trail. It wasn’t until the campfire was out of sight that it occurred to him that he didn’t have the faintest notion of why he had done so. He looked out in a distance seemingly composed of equal parts shadowed earth and brilliantly-shining stars.
“What am I doing here?”
“I called you, Jayn.”
Timon was standing right next to him. Jayn jumped backward three paces and landed in a crouch, his dagger ready.
“What do you mean, ‘called me’? What trick is this?”
“Just that,” Timon said. “I called you out of your sleep, but left your body where it was. I didn’t need that part.”
Jayn crept back to the edge of the ridge and looked down toward the camp. It was still there, as was he himself. Jayn saw the still form wrapped in blankets, knew it for his own.
“What have you done to me?!”
“Nothing. Yet.”
“Am I dreaming?”
“In a way. But ask yourself, Jayn—if I am privy to your dreams, how are you going to keep anything hidden from me? You have no choice here, Jayn, other than to do what I require.”
Timon continued to look out toward Wylandia or up at the stars, Jayn couldn’t quite tell which. After a moment or two Timon spoke again, but he wasn’t talking about missions or proof or anything of the sort. “I love places like this, Jayn. We’ll be gone in a moment or two and it will be as it was. Wylandia goes to war in a generation or doesn’t. Morushe becomes one kingdom with Borasur, or doesn’t. Large events to us but to these mountains? Nothing. That’s what I love about the empty places of the world; places with few people and little to see save earth, sky, mountains and cold, cold stars. They help me keep matters in perspective.”
Jayn didn’t say anything for a moment, since he didn’t have any idea what Timon was talking about. He kept his attention on what, as he saw it, was the matter at hand. “If I’m dreaming, how do I know that any of this is real? Your presence, what I’m seeing now, all could be just the workings of my fevered mind?”
“You’re a stubborn one, Jayn.”
Jayn met Timon’s gaze evenly. “I’m a hard man, wizard. I have to be. You are generous with your gold but you could take that away from me. I can’t trust you, as I said. How can there be any certainty of any kind between us?”
Timon nodded. “A fair question. Which I presume would be answered if demonstrate that you’re not going to take me by surprise? That is the case, I’m afraid. My precautions are such that I’ll know your intent before you do.”
Jayn sniffed danger like a deer in a meadow, but couldn’t think of anything to say that was as remotely plausible as the truth. “A demonstration would help,” Jayn admitted. “Though one that leaves me both alive and functioning would be in both our interests.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Timon said.
“So…what will you do? Summon lightning? Raise a demon from the bowels of the earth?”
“You believe that you’re dreaming,” Timon said. “So if I were to do any of those things you either would not remember or would quite rightly explain the marvel as part of your dream, where such wonders are common. No, I must arrange something more…solid. Look to the east, what do you see?”
Jayn glanced in that direction. “A faint glow. Dawn is coming.”
“Almost here,” Timon said. “You’ll awake in a little while, and you’re not going to remember any of this at first. You’re going to run thirty paces further along the trail and then stop and look to the right. Only then will you remember, and you will recall everything we’ve said tonight.”
Jayn frowned. “That’s it?”
“Just be grateful that it’s enough. Now wake up.”
Jayn awoke by the cold ashes of the campfire. Timon was nowhere to be seen. Jayn pulled his blankets off and sat up. He looked around carefully, but there was still no sign of the magician. Jayn assumed Timon had sought privacy to relieve himself and, very briefly, considered doing the same before the implication of Timon’s absence sank in.
Now’s my chance.
Jayn rolled up his bedding as quickly as he could, picked up his heavy pack, started down the trail. He had gone exactly thirty paces when he skidded to a stop before he even realized he was doing so. He looked to the right and there was Timon, leaning against a large stone.
“What kept you?”
* * * *
They slipped past the Wylandian watchtower on the fourth day. That proved very easy. The rough stone wall blocking the north end of the pass was to prevent a large force from crossing quickly, and give the watchmen time to light their beacons and give warning. It did little to prevent two very stealthy men from climbing over under cover of darkness. As he reached the top of the wall, Jayn could see the two watchmen huddled by a small brazier near the parapet of their tower.
“I wonder what they’re being punished for?” Jayne said aloud, though he kept his voice too low to carry.
Timon, who—Jayn had come to grudgingly understand—was even more nimble than himself, was waiting for him on top of the wall. “Punished? What makes you think so?”
“Out here? Isolated for months at a time with nothing to do but stare into nothing? I’d go mad.”
“I have it on good authority that men volunteer for this duty. I would think that someone of your background would appreciate the lure of solitude.”
Jayn shook his head. “I appreciate being unencumbered. That’s not the same thing as being alone.”
“Quite right,” Timon said. “And yet, to some, this sort of duty is ideal. Everyone searches for what they need, Jayn. You, me, those men in the tower. It’s no surprise that we’re not all after the same thing.”
They climbed down carefully. Timon led Jayn to what looked like an animal path through the underbrush; he was able to walk upright and still stay concealed from the watchmen. They were well away from both the wall and the tower before Jayn spoke again. “So what is it you’re looking for, Timon?”
The magician frowned. “Why do you want to know?”
Jayn shrugged. “Just curious. We have both miles and time to kill.”
“I’ll answer that question,” Timon said, “if you’ll do the same.”
Jayn grunted. “I thought you had me sorted out already; you played me like a drum at our first meeting.”
Timon dismissed that. “I understand your immediate motivations well enough to explain why you do what you do. The excitement of a challenge, the thirst for reputation…simple enough on the surface. But is that really all there is to you, Jayn? A thief hungry for reputation?”
Jayn shrugged. “Isn’t that enough?”
“That’s not for me to answer, Jayn. I’ll answer my own question instead: what I want is to make a difference.”
“I must say you don’t seem particular as to what sort of difference, seeing as how your list of crimes is far longer and certainly more lethal than mine. I steal, but that’s all.”
Timon raised an eyebrow. “A moral harangue from a thief?”
Jayn sighed. “Just because I cross the line now and then doesn’t mean I don’t know a line exists. I never steal from those who can’t afford the loss and
I’ve never killed anyone except in self-defense, even when good sense suggested that slitting a throat was in my best interests. I am quite moral, Timon…in my own way.”
“Interesting notion. Perhaps we should test that sometime.”
* * * *
“Well, now. This is definitely a challenge,” Jayn said.
What was euphemistically referred to as the Wylandian summer palace was actually a fortified castle set on a mountain ridge so high and sheer that it looked like a wall constructed by some long-vanished giant. A section of the ridge had collapsed in a past age and the castle had been built near the edge, so the fortress was guarded on three sides by sheer hundred-foot cliffs. The only real approach was along the ridge itself, defended by a massive curtain wall and a sliding gate which, judging from the relative size of the guards near it, was at least twenty feet square.
Timon and Jayn sat at a rough table at an inn in Kandan, a bustling village at the foot of the mountain, near an unshuttered window that gave them a good look at the castle. Fortunately—or more likely, planned ahead by Timon—it was the second of two annual horse fairs held there on the border of the plains where the hardy Wylandian duns, much prized in the south and elsewhere, were traded. No one took much notice of the two men, as the town was normally filled with travelers during the fair.
“Pity there are no rooms available,” Timon said. “It would have been nice not to sleep on the ground for a change.”
“I don’t consider a bed more than likely stuffed with fleas much of an improvement,” Jayn said. “Worse, someone else’s fleas.” He lifted his flagon again, then sighed. “Good food and ale, though.”
“Too good,” Timon said. “Keep your wits about you, since you enter the castle tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“I have my reasons. Let it go at that.”
Jayn nodded toward the gate. “Lovely. And now that we’re here, would you mind telling me your plan to get in? I’m a very good thief, but I’m neither a magician nor a bird. I must say it looks quite impossible from here.”
Timon smiled. “I’ll do better than tell you, I’ll show you. Yet you probably won’t like it. I certainly don’t.”
