Honor Among Thieves toss-1

by Elaine Cunningham

  “You, my friend, have been dipping into the wrongpockets.”

  “The locket isn’t stolen. It was passed down throughmy family.”

  A long slow whistle escaped the dwarf. “Are you surethis means what it seems to? The adepts claim that Eldreath’sbloodline had been wiped out.”

  “They claim a lot of things.”

  “True.”

  “If I am descended from Eldreath, I’m making a liarout of Rhendish just by breathing and walking around.”

  “How did he find out?” The dwarf grimaced as theanswer came to him. “Your mother.”

  “That’s the obvious answer.” The words tasted bitterin Fox’s mouth. “You’ve seen how they left her.”

  “If that’s how they got the information, she didn’tmake it easy for them.”

  They sat in silence for several long moments. Delgarcleared his throat. “So what are you going to do?”

  Fox didn’t need to ask what his friend meant. In thenext chamber, hidden behind one of the dwarf’s apparently solidrock doors, was a trove of magical items. Some still held weaksputters of arcane power, others were as silent as tombstones. Foxhad spent the past eight years stealing them from museums andprivate collectors and curiosity shops and from Rhendish himself,hoarding them against the day when magic returned to Sevrin. Hisassociation with a dwarf, a fairy, and now an elf gave himimportant contacts to the old races. The magical items gave himbargaining power and potential weapons. In time, he hoped to buildan alliance strong enough to force the adepts from power.

  No one but Delgar knew the extent of his collection,but Fox had a certain following in the city, mostly among youngpeople who celebrated his exploits as acts of daring andrebellion.

  That, of course, was Vishni’s doing. The fairy’s“ improved tales” put Fox well along the path to becoming a folkhero.

  Fox had mixed feelings about this, but he permittedit because he believed the folk hero of Vishni’s stories couldaccomplish great things. But the same actions, undertaken by a manof Eldreath’s bloodlines, would be perceived in a very differentlight.

  “What does the elf say about this?” Delgar asked.

  “I haven’t told her. I just found out myself.”

  “But you’re planning to,” the dwarf said.

  Fox scowled and folded his arms. “I might.”

  “You like her.”

  “She doesn’t make it easy,” Fox said cautiously, “butyes, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Delgar rose and began to pace. “You didn’t noticeanything strange about the two men we saw in the alley with theelf?”

  He thought this over. “Now that you mention it, oneof them looked a little old for a street thug.”

  “Define old.”

  “Well, he had gray hair. And he looked pretty wellfed, which tends to make people look older.”

  “He was stocky, in other words. About my height, youthink?”

  “Pretty close,” Fox said.

  “And he was clean-shaven, which is unusual for ahuman of his age.” Delgar stroked his own smooth chin. “What aboutthe other man?”

  “About six feet tall, lean, probably about my age.”Understanding flooded Fox’s face. “You think they looked likeus.”

  “They were close enough to fool Rhendish’s clockworkguards.”

  Fox laughed and shook his head. “Are all dwarves thissuspicious?”

  “I prefer to think of myself as analytical. And yes,dwarves tend to be analytical. Humans, on the other hand, tend tobe emotional and impulsive.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as instinctual,” Foxsaid.

  “Have it your way. But I noticed you haven’t broughtthe elf this far into the tunnels. You haven’t shown her thetrove.”

  Fox rolled his eyes. “I’m not a perfect idiot, youknow.”

  “That you’re not.” The dwarf stopped pacing andclapped Fox on the shoulder. “But only because nobody’sperfect.”

  Chapter Seven: Shoddy Workmanship

  For nearly four years now, Avidan had harbored nothought of leaving the warren of rooms and tunnels he knew as theFox Den. He had no aversion to the larger world; the thought ofventuring out into it had simply never occurred to him.

  But something very similar to curiosity began to stiras he followed Fox and Delgar through an intricate maze of tunnelsand secret doors.

  The hidden web Delgar had created was nothing shortof marvelous. In addition to clearing ancient dwarf-built tunnels,the dwarf had made use of human constructions, such as the culvertsbelow the streets for rain run-off and the cellars of houses builtclosely together. He’d dug small tunnels connecting these cellars,and fashioned doors that seemed to disappear into the stonewalls.

  For the first time Avidan realized how Fox was ableto procure any materials he requested. Now that he thought aboutit, the herbs and minerals and oils he was putting into the elf’srose daggers would require a small fortune.

  Or access to the workrooms of Sevrin’salchemists.

  This, too, was a fascinating thought. He’d never beenparticularly impressed by the northern alchemists. His own work wasfar more advanced. But the most recent assortment of materials Foxbrought him showed a certain amount of sophistication.

  “I suppose much progress can be made in one hundredyears,” he murmured.

  Delgar glanced back over his shoulder. “I haven’tbeen at it quite that long, but thanks.”

  Avidan saw no reason to explain that he spoke ofalchemy, not excavation. He followed Fox and the dwarf up a flightof rough-hewn stone stairs and waited while Fox tinkered with awood-and-wire mechanism. After a few moments, the young thief swunga flagstone portal to one side.

  The two friends crawled through the opening. Foxreached down to help Avidan up.

  He stood and dusted himself off. The flagstone provedto be part of the stone paving separating a large hearth from theroom’s wooden floor. Fortunately for them, the warm summer nightmade a fire unnecessary.

  Avidan surveyed the private supper room Vishni hadrented in what he’d been told was one of Sevrin’s better taverns.The walls were paneled with smoke-darkened wood. A garish tapestrydepicting a dragon hunt covered one wall, adding color andsubtracting from Avidan’s estimation of the owner’s taste. Bluelinen draperies softened the open windows. The room was hardly whathe had been accustomed to in his youth, but the furnishings wereadequate and the food plentiful.

  The small table held a large bottle of wine and aplatter of bread, cheese and fruit. Fragrant steam rose from abasket of savory hand pies. Smoked fish had been cut into neatslices and arranged on a plate. Three chairs and place settingsstood ready.

  “There’s no need for you to talk much,” Fox said,repeating words Avidan had heard and ignored several times now.“Let the other alchemist do the talking. Learn as much as you canabout him.”

  “You need have no concerns about the conversation. Nodoubt we will find much to discuss.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered the dwarf.

  “No going off on tangents,” Fox said. “And for thelove of a thousand tiny gods, don’t offer to treat him for thepox.”

  Avidan’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why would I dothat?”

  The dwarf and the thief exchanged a quick, worriedglance. Fox cleared his throat. “We’ll hold onto the alchemistuntil after the dagger is retrieved, so you don’t need to worry toomuch about what you say to him. Just make sure you don’t give himreason to leave the room or raise an alarm. Vishni will give you asignal if you’re heading into dangerous waters.”

  “I believe the plan is for her to kick me in theshins.”

  Fox shrugged. “It’s best to keep these thingssimple.”

  Avidan accepted this with a nod and took his place atthe table. “I am ready.”

  The dwarf glanced out the window. Twilight fadedtoward dark. A lamplighter sang the hour as he went about hiswork.

  “Ready or not, we have to leave,” Delgar said. “We’llbe waiting in the tunnel and we can
come if you need us, but onlycall as a last resort. Revealing this tunnel would lose us a bigsection of the city.”

  “I am well aware of the risks attending thismeeting,” Avidan said with simple dignity. “As I’m aware how theserisks might be compounded by the participation of someone who is,as I believe the expression goes, as crazy as three squirrels ina cage.”

  A wave of chagrin swept Fox’s face. “Listen,Avidan-”

  He cut the young man off with an upraised hand. “Ihave long been aware of your opinion. It could hardly be otherwise,given how you found me. And in all candor I cannot dispute yourconclusion.

  “But this task I can do,” he said firmly. “Go now,and leave me to it.”

  The two friends exchanged another troubled glance,but they left the room without further comment.

  Avidan poured a little wine and sipped. To hissurprise, the rich taste of pomegranate liqueur slid across histongue. He had not tasted this treasure of Veldoon since-

  He stopped this thought before it could lead him ontodangerous pathways. He could not afford to think about those lostyears, not if he hoped to play the part of a sane man.

  A woman’s laughter rang out in the hall beyond thesupper room. The door opened and Vishni swept in on the arm of thealchemist she’d hunted and charmed.

  As always, Avidan could see through the illusionVishni wore to the reality beneath. The experience was a bit likelooking through a very solid rainbow. Tonight she chose to appearblond and blue-eyed and buxom-the quintessential northland woman,everything a visitor to Sevrin might hope to find in a temporarycompanion.

  The man with her was somewhat less than averageheight, by the standards of Sevrin, and slightly built. He wore hisglossy black hair neatly combed and oiled. His skin had been warmedby the southern sun to a color just short of brown. His nose wasthin and aquiline, his eyes an unusual shade of light graysurrounded by a darker ring.

  Looking upon him was like gazing into a mirror.

  Avidan rose and spread both hands palms up in theVeldooni gesture of greeting.

  The alchemist started when he saw Avidan. “I did notexpect to meet a countryman.” His gaze swept Avidan’s simple bluetunic. “And a brother of alchemy, as well!”

  Avidan glanced at Vishni. “I am equallysurprised.”

  “A pleasant surprise, I trust.” The Veldooni manbowed. “Shavin Insa’amid.”

  “An honor, Master Insa’amid.” He returned the bow. “Ifollow the Sevrin custom of a single name. Avidan.”

  The man’s dark brows rose. “A common name among myfamily, though I have not heard it elsewhere.”

  “Shall we sit?” Vishni said. “I’m famished, and thoselittle pies smell wonderful.”

  They took their places around the small table. Vishnikept up a spate of entertaining chatter as she poured wine andheaped food onto small plates.

  “I hope you don’t mind me inviting Avidan to joinus,” she told her guest. “He has been longing for news from home,so I thought I’d surprise you both.”

  “How long has it been since you left our homeland?”Shavin asked.

  “I have not been in Veldoon for generations.”

  Shavin laughed. “How well I understand thatsentiment! Though I left but four moons ago, it seems years havepassed. Do you plan to return home soon?”

  “I hope to. But I no longer consider Veldoon tobe-”

  Vishni kicked him under the table.

  He took a deep breath and chose one of the questionsFox had bid him memorize. “What brings you to Sevrin, brother?”

  “Oh, the fame of the adepts, of course! I have thehonor of conferring with one of Sevrin’s masters tomorrow. Do youknow the adept Muldonny?”

  “I am familiar with his work and reputation, butsince we are not on the same level of accomplishment, there islittle call for us to confer.”

  “You are too modest, I’m sure.”

  “Not at all. Muldonny’s attempts to achieve alkahestare far from-”

  Another sharp kick warned Avidan away from thatparticular precipice. Vishni sent him an innocent smile and reachedfor the wine bottle.

  “Alkahest!” Shavin said with a smile. “That was mygreat-grandsire’s study. They say he was determined to solve thealkahest conundrum. Do you know it?”

  “A universal solvent cannot be formulated until onediscovers a container it cannot dissolve.”

  The Veldooni man slapped his knee and beamed. “That’sit precisely!”

  “A dragon’s tooth.”

  Shavin’s smile faltered. “Pardon?”

  “The container,” Avidan said. “Dragons are notcreatures of this realm of existence. The great Palanir limits thedefinition of ‘universal’ to substances known to the mortal realm.Thus, alkahest can be contained by immortality.”

  The Veldooni’s eyes brightened with the excitement ofa swordsman meeting a worthy foe. He gestured to the tapestry. “Ah,but can an immortal being be slain?”

  “More importantly,” Vishni broke in, “can the peoplewho wove that tapestry be slain before they weave again?”

  Shavin chuckled and Avidan found the corners of hisown lips turning up in agreement.

  “If the old tales hold fact as well as truth, godscan die,” Avidan said. “Would you deem them mortal, as well?”

  The Veldooni’s eyebrows rose. “Palanir again! Aclassic rhetorical argument, one I have not heard in years. So fewmen of our years bother to study the Philosophers. Alchemy hasbecome the art of mixing and measuring.”

  “Like a guild of bakers.”

  “Just so!” Shavin slapped his knee again. “If it werein my power to do so, I would invite you to accompany me tomorrow.Muldonny has expressed an interest in my pursuit of alkahest. Ifall well short of my great-grandsire’s knowledge on this subject,but what I know I will gladly share with him.”

  Vishni poured the last of the wine into her cup andtossed it back. She reached for the bottle and turned to Avidan.“Do you think you can take it from here?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  The fairy rose, the empty bottle in her hand. Sheraised it high and brought it down hard on Shavin’s head.

  His eyes glazed and his jaw fell slack. The grapehe’d just popped into his mouth dropped out and rolled off thetable.

  “He’s not falling,” Vishni said. “Shall I hit himagain?”

  Avidan reached out and gave the man’s shoulder alittle nudge. He slumped and fell face down into the smokedfish.

  The fairy pouted. “You’re not much fun.”

  “Oh, I think you’ve amused yourself quite enough forone day.”

  Vishni beamed. “That was fun, wasn’t it? For a minutethere, you looked like you’d seen a ghost. When Shavin and I camein.”

  “Highly diverting, I’m sure.”

  She waited for more. When none was forthcoming, sheshrugged and turned toward the hearth. “I’ll call Fox andDelgar.”

  “Wait.”

  He reached into the neck of his tunic and found thechain holding his most prized and dreaded possession: a tiny bottleshaped like a green teardrop.

  Vishni caught her breath. “Is that-”

  “Nepenthe,” he said. “The potion of forgetfulness.The fairies’ last and kindest gift.”

  He pulled the tiny stopper and reached for Shavin’sgoblet. Vishni caught his wrist before he could empty it.

  “That vial holds enough to remove a hundred yearsfrom a mortal’s memory. A single drop will empty Shavin’s mind ofeverything that occurred since he left his homeland.”

  Avidan took a needle from his bag and dipped it intothe vial. The tiny drop that fell from the slender dipper would, hehoped, steal no more than a few days from his kinsman’s memory.

  He pushed Shavin upright and let his head fall back.While Vishni held the alchemist so he would not fall from hischair, Avidan fed him the drugged liqueur little by little,patiently spooning oblivion down the man’s slack throat.

  When the task was finished, Vishni regarded Avidanwith something akin
to compassion in her dark eyes.

  “There’s enough left to take the memory of faeriefrom you. You could drink and forget.”

  “Would you drink? Would you choose to forget?”

  He turned away without waiting for her reply andtapped his foot twice on the flagstone portal.

  The stone swung aside. Delgar and Fox hauledthemselves into the room and took in the scene.

  “You can take him right to his chambers,” Avidansaid. He held up the teardrop bottle. “He will not recall anythingthat transpired here.”

  “Believe him,” Vishni said firmly.

  “Well, that’s good enough for me,” Delgarmurmured.

  Avidan recognized sarcasm in the dwarf’s voice. Itoccurred to him that he had heard Delgar use this tone before. Infact, it was exceeding familiar, perhaps even habitual. When timepermitted, he would reconsider the dwarf’s past comments in thelight of this new insight.

  Fox looked skeptical. “I suppose I can sit with himuntil he wakes up. If you’re right, I can give him some story aboutsaving him from street thugs. One look at my face, and he’ll knowI’ve been fighting someone. If you’re wrong, I can hit him againand we’ll go back to the original plan.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Delgar said. He bent down andslung the man over his shoulder. “You go first. I’ll hand him downto you and then I’ll take it from there.”

  “Clothes,” Fox reminded him. “Papers, jewelry.”

  The dwarf grimaced and lowered the unconscious man tothe floor. He and Fox made short work of stripping him of hisVeldooni finery.

  Avidan traded clothing with Shavin Insa’amid and slidhis kinsman’s rings onto his fingers. The fit could not have beenbetter if they’d been made to his measure.

  Fox’s gaze slid from Avidan to the unconscious man.“The resemblance is remarkable. Good thinking, Vishni. This makesthings easier.”

  “Considerably,” Avidan said. “Go about your businessnow. I will meet you in the Fox Den later tonight.”

  He stood a little taller than was his custom and hespoke with an authority he had not assumed for three generations.It did not seem strange to him that Fox and the dwarf did as he bidthem.

  Nor did it feel as strange as he might have expectedto be wearing the layers of embroidered silk that stillcharacterized the clothing of his homeland. In a land of ancientways and ancient arts, styles changed but little with a singlepassing century.