“I don’t like the looks of that smile,” Fox said.
She adjusted her expression until she was certain nofluffy kitten had ever looked as innocent.
“See that woman by the nets? The pretty, young onewho’s sorting fish? She has an odd sort of ring.”
“You must have eyes like a hawk. I can’t see it fromhere.”
The fairy held up a little silver hoop set with chipsof green and blue sea glass. “Is this better?”
Fox’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing withthat?”
“Keeping it safe! She put it in her apron pocketbefore she started working. Taking it from her pocket when wewalked past was as easy as smiling. Anyone could have done it.”
The thief sighed. “We don’t steal from fisherfolk,Vishni. You know that. They have troubles enough.”
“Oh, the ring will turn up,” she said airily. “Maybein her pocket, or on the table, or inside a fish. .”
Angry voices rose from the dock, where two mencrouched beside a mixture of fish guts and treasure.
Fox squinted toward the pile of gold. Since each coinwas large enough to cover the palm of Vishni’s hand, it made quitea pile.
“Veldooni currency, Vishni? Seriously?”
The distant land of Veldoon had been on Vishni’s mindsince she’d picked an alchemist to charm and kidnap.
“Why not?”
“If I was going to create an illusion of treasurespilling out of a fish’s belly, my first choice wouldn’t be coinsfrom a land-locked desert country. A fist-sized emerald would bemore believable.”
That made sense, but Vishni had never admitted tomaking a mistake and saw no reason to start now.
She gestured toward the dock, where the two fishermenwere now standing toe to toe. Their shoulders were squared, theirchests expanded with as much air and male menace as they couldhold.
“Tell me,” she said loftily, “that they don’t looklike men who think bigger means better.”
As she spoke, it occurred to her that humans were alot like tomcats. Both tried to make themselves look bigger beforestarting a fight. For a moment she considered giving the fishermenthe illusion of tails. In their current frame of mind, those tailswould be very fluffy. And it would be amusing to watch the tailstwitch and swish like an angry cat’s.
The expression on Fox’s face suggested that thiswould be more trouble than it was worth.
“What are you up to?” he said.
“Didn’t you notice the way that woman keeps lookingat the younger fisherman?”
“So?”
“So she’s married to the older fisherman.” Shebeamed. “Want to know how I figured this out?”
“No.”
Vishni ignored this. “The boy who’s carrying away thebaskets of fish she’s sorting? I heard him call her Melina. That’sthe name written on the side of the fishing boat. Humans name boatsafter their people. Or maybe it’s the other way around,” she said.She gave herself a little shake. “Anyway, since the young fishermanis the one who gutted the fish, he’s obviously the worker and notthe owner.”
“Leave them alone, Vishni.”
“Once, you might have been interested in the plightof a common fisherman,” she said sadly. “Once, you had a grand andimportant quest of your own.”
A flicker of something that humans called “guilt”skittered across Fox’s face. Vishni didn’t understand this emotion,but it proved useful every now and again.
“Besides,” she added in a more cheerful tone, “everycollection of stories should have a morality tale of somesort.”
Fox drew breath to protest. She clapped her hand overhis mouth and tipped her head toward the dock to signify that theyshould stop talking and listen.
“The fish is mine,” insisted the bearded fisherman.“Any treasure in its belly is mine, as well.”
“No man can say I take anything that isn’t mine.” Theyoung man sent an insolent look toward the fish-sorting woman.“Leastwise, nothing that isn’t offered.”
The older man’s face darkened as he glanced at thewoman, who’d stopped her work to watch the small drama.
“If it’s my Melina you’re talking about, you’re aliar. And I can see by that coin in your shirt pocket that you’re athief, as well.”
“You know it’s my night to buy ale for the boys.”
“Not with my coin, you won’t!”
The youth sneered and held out hands that were bloodyto the elbow. “You go ahead and reach in after it. If it’s clean,you’ll know it came from no fish.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the bearded fishermanthrust his hand into the younger man’s pocket.
Both men stared blankly at the hoop of silver in hispalm.
“Or the ring could turn up in someone else’spocket,” Vishni added demurely.
Fox snatched the real ring from Vishni’s hand andhurried toward Melina, who was watching this exchange with a whiteface and guilty eyes.
“Did you by chance drop this ring?” he asked in acarrying voice.
Her husband turned toward them, murder simmering inhis eyes. “Another?” he roared. “How many markers do you have out,woman?”
Before Fox could say another word, both men rushed athim with raised and ready fists.
Vishni tapped her chin as she watched the brawl.“Multiple rings,” she murmured. “Yes, that would improve the taleconsiderably.”
Chapter Six: Compulsion
Until this afternoon, Honor had never felt any desireto explore Sevrin. It felt strange to be walking the broad streetsand winding, narrow byways like any human.
There were so many of them, striding here and therewith great purpose. A few, like Honor, took a more leisurely pace,enjoying the gift of a fine summer day.
Several days had passed since Honor’s “rescue”outside of Rhendish Manor. Plans to recover the Thorn movedsteadily forward; in fact, things were going so well that Honor wasstarting to believe that her quest might come to a successfulclose. Her life would never be the same, but on a day such as this,with the summer sun warm on her face and an early morning rainstill scenting the air, the forest did not seem so very faraway.
Fox and his companions thought she was spending theafternoon in the den, studying maps of Stormwall Island and readinghistories of Muldonny’s role in the overthrow of the sorcererEldreath. The thief and his friends would not approve of herwandering about the city on her own.
Honor didn’t begrudge them this attitude. It was,after all, her business that absorbed their full attention. Butshe’d spent almost every hour since her awakening below ground; infact, she so seldom left the tunnels that no hint of the Greeninghad touched her skin and hair. She was still nearly as pale as theCarmot dwarves who lived deep beneath the city.
The small colony of dwarves who worked the tunnelsbelow the Fox Den supported Honor’s suspicions about Delgar. He wasopening the old passages, preparing the way for more dwarves tofollow. She’d seen enough of Sevrin to know the adepts could notpermit this to happen.
Her people did not support the idea of overthrowingSevrin’s human rulers. That might change now that an adept’s menhad found the Starsingers Grove, but elves were slow to embracechange.
Too slow, in Honor’s opinion.
For the first time, she began to understand whyDelgar had thrown his lot in with a pair of humans and an impetuousfairy. There were times when things had to be done now.Humans understood that necessity, and fairies had little concept ofanything other than “now.”
Still, working with humans was risky. Honor hadnoticed Fox’s regard shifting to dangerous territory over the lastfew days. He’d been a child when she pulled him from the river. Hewas now a young man, and to human eyes she appeared to be a youngwoman. And judging from the company he kept, Fox was drawn to theold magic and the people who embodied it.
Honor had not been the only one to notice Fox’sattentiveness. She often sensed Vishni’s gaze following her, andshe noted the calculating gleam in the fairy’s dark eyes. A jealousfa
iry could present a dangerous complication.
Avidan, on the other hand, was largely oblivious toHonor’s presence. The fey-touched alchemist had embraced his roleas a visiting alchemist and spent most of his time working withvials of foul-smelling liquids. Honor had little doubt that when anopportunity finally arose, he could hold his own in conversationwith Muldonny.
Each member of the Fox Den had a reason for helpingHonor, but Delgar was the only one who understood the importance ofher quest.
And that was another problem.
Most Carmot dwarves believed their affinity forcarmite gave them an innate and sacred right to possess it. Delgarmight say otherwise, but he had not yet heard the Thorn’s song. Thecall of like to like might well prove too powerful to resist. Honorhad resigned herself to the possibility that she might have tofight Delgar for possession of the Thorn before this was over.
A street urchin bumped into her. Honor immediatelyslapped one hand over her coin purse and spun to face a second boy.His jaunty pace never faltered, but she caught a glimpse of thesmall crescent knife he quickly palmed.
Fox had warned her about this basic cut-purse ploywhen he’d tied the coin purse to her belt. Everyone in Sevrincarried one, he claimed, even if they held a few flat stones ratherthan coins. It was not prudent to be seen without one. There wereno indigent people in Sevrin, just as there was no crime and nomagic.
And for that matter, no elves.
Suddenly Honor’s determination to take a solitarywalk struck her as self-indulgent and dangerous. The adepts haddefined an ideal Sevrin, and they maintained that appearance byrigorously pruning away anything which did not conform to thedesired shape.
A strange hum, like the burn of muscles forced tohold still for too long, began to spread through Honor’s limbs. Herfeet went numb. Icy torpor crept up her legs until she couldneither feel nor command them.
She expected to stumble and fall, but she did not.Without will or intent, she turned down a paved street that endedin an imposing white stone building.
For one panic-filled moment, she considered seizingthe iron fence and hanging on until the compulsion stopped. Butthat would draw attention she could not afford.
So she walked to the building and climbed the broadwhite stairs. Runes on a large wood sign over the door indicatedthat this was the Sevrin Library. The carved image of books andscrolls embellished the sign for no reason Honor could perceive,except perhaps to keep the illiterate from wandering into thebuilding by mistake. Another time, she might have chosen to explorewhat humans considered important enough to commit to page andparchment.
But she could not choose.
A profound sense of helplessness and violation washedover her. This compulsion, this utter loss of control, was farworse than the terror of awakening in Rhendish’s lair.
She walked past shelf after shelf of books in a roomnearly as large as a forest clearing. To her ears, each quiet stepsounded like a soft, dry sob.
Her traitorous feet took her to a row of doors at theback of the library, then to the door at the very end of the row.She pushed it open and was not at all surprised to see Rhendishsitting at a small polished table.
He gestured to the second chair. Bitterness rose inHonor’s throat like bile as she took the seat.
“I suppose you want me to take you to the thieves’den now.”
The adept’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “Have youretrieved the dagger so soon?”
She shook her head.
“Then our original agreement stands. Once you havereclaimed your property, I will require your assistance in locatingthe Fox’s lair.”
“Why are you so interested in him?”
He tsked gently. “I did not demand to know what valueyour dagger held for you. Is it not enough that he leads a band ofthieves who can disappear into the shadows like roaches?”
“You captured the dwarf without my assistance.”
“The opportunity arose. And you must admit that hemade admirable bait.”
“You could have taken Fox when he came to rescue hisfriend.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “That would have given me two ofthe thieves, but no guarantee that they would reveal the locationof their den or the secret to their way of moving about the city.You will provide that, in due time. I assume they trust you? Theyare helping you in your quest?”
“They are helping.”
Rhendish leaned forward, concern shadowing hisforest-hued eyes. “But they don’t trust you. Have you given themreason to suspect you are working with me?”
“Apart from meeting with you in a public place in themiddle of the day?”
“A valid point,” he said in a dry tone. “You may wantto peruse a volume or two to explain your interest in the library,if you’re called upon to do so. But I cannot stress too stronglythe importance of keeping our alliance secret. It could mean yourlife.”
“It is late in the game for threats,” she said.
“I wasn’t threatening you. To the contrary! My onlydesire is to ensure that you fully understand your situation.”
He tapped on the one of the walls. The door opened. Aman with a long blond beard and a chest as broad as an elk’s filledthe doorway.
The adept motioned the big man inside. “This isVolgo, the captain of my personal guard. He led the expedition intothe forest. Ask him what you will.”
This, Honor had not expected. She took a moment toput her thoughts in order.
“Rhendish said you were pursuing a band of Gatherers.Why?”
The captain blinked. “Those were my orders.”
Honor turned to Rhendish.
“These men had sold several elven artifacts to peoplein Sevrin who collect curiosities. I have purchased one or two fromthem, myself,” Rhendish said. “But over time, the sheer number ofitems they collected suggested a more, shall we say, activemeans of acquisition?”
“You thought they might be raiding elvenvillages.”
“It seemed a possibility worth investigating,”Rhendish said.
“Why do you care? Would too many elven handiworksweaken your claim that the Old Races and their magic are gone?”
“It might,” the adept said coolly. “Especially if theelves marched in force to retrieve these items and seek reprisalsfor the raids.”
The unexpected candor of this remark brought a wrysmile to Honor’s face. Rhendish did not want trouble with theelves. If she learned nothing else from this odd meeting, that wasinformation worth knowing.
She turned back to the captain.
“Did you speak to my sister?”
The big man hesitated. “As to that, I can give noguarantee. The elf said she was your sister.”
“She looked like me?”
“She might have, at one time. You were both badlywounded. Under the circumstances, a resemblance would be difficultto determine.”
“Describe her.”
The man’s gaze grew unfocused as it shifted to thecontemplation of memory. “White hair, streaked with brown and graylike the bark of a birch tree. Pale skin. Light eyes. She was aboutyour size. If she was human, I’d say she’d lived no more thanfive-and-twenty years. But that could describe nearly all thefemales in the clearing.”
“Everyone there was dressed in dark blue,” shesaid.
“Nearly everyone,” he said. “The elf who claimedkinship to you wore a white gown and a mantle of some sort of whitefur.”
Honor’s throat tightened. She did not recall thedetails of that night and retained no image of her sister’s part init, but Volgo’s description matched the sort of gown Asteria wouldhave worn to a winter tribunal.
“What did she say to you?”
“She spoke to one of my men at first. He called meover when she demanded to speak to the ‘warlord.’ There wassomething in her manner that prompted obedience.”
This, beyond doubt, was Asteria. “What did she ask ofyou?”
“She asked for your life,” the man said. “Her woundswere mortal. Yours did not appear to be.
She asked that you betended. You were to return a stolen dagger to your people. She wasmost insistent.”
The adept’s pursuit of the Gatherers, the honor shownthe slain elves, the undertaking of Asteria’s quest-all thesethings bore evidence to Rhendish’s determination to prevent troublebetween her people and his. Honor found that admirable. As thequeen’s sister and champion, she could do no less. Logic told herthat Rhendish was an ally.
And yet.
Rhendish reached out to touch her hand. He seemedneither surprised nor offended when she snatched it away.
“Does that suffice?” he asked.
She nodded. The adept dismissed his captain with aflick of one hand.
When they were alone, Rhendish leaned forwardconfidingly. “You don’t need to take the dagger back to the forest,if you don’t wish to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Her words came out sharper than she intended.Rhendish lifted both hands in a placating gesture.
“The captain told me certain other things thatpainted a rather ominous picture.”
“Such as?”
“There were no weapons in the glen except for asingle long sword. Of course,” he said, “it is possible that anyother weapons were taken as plunder, as was the dagger you seek.But none of the elves in the glen wore either belt or baldric. Thebodies of a few armed elves were found in the forest nearby, butnone in the clearing. Since it’s obvious that the elves didn’tgather for battle or hunting, I assume the raiders interrupted acelebration or ritual of some sort.”
All of these things were undoubtedly true. “So?”
“Except for your sister, all of the elves weredressed in dark blue. But my men found a single crimson robe. Thepresence of a blood-red robe and a single sword strikes me assomewhat. . suggestive.”
“You’ve concluded the gathering was to be a trialfollowed by an execution.”
He nodded. “And after the trial was interrupted, anelf in garb befitting a queen or a priestess demanded that youpresent yourself and a ceremonial dagger to your surviving clan.Forgive me if I presume, but it sounds very much like sentence wasalready passed-in your sister’s mind, if none other.”
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