The Alabaster Staff

by Edward Bolme

  For several long minutes, the only sound to be heard was the slight clink of Kehrsyn’s chains as she shifted her weight. Despite the weight of scrutiny, she refused to drop her gaze.

  The man spoke at last, with a rich, smooth baritone voice. “Here we find, amongst our number at last, the thief,” he proclaimed in High Untheric. Kehrsyn raised her eyebrows. The last time she’d heard High Untheric, it had been booming from the sanctuary of the Gilgeamite temple as she’d been sneaking through the back rooms looking for donations to steal. But then, she’d never dealt with merchant princes before. “By which name art thou called, miscreant?” he asked.

  “Kehrsyn,” she said with far more confidence than she felt.

  He inhaled through his nose, his linear lips pressed together.

  “Hast thou an idea how I shall dispose of thee?” he asked, his voice and face devoid of emotion.

  She narrowed her eyes and tried to cross her arms, but the chain prevented her from doing so. She settled with resting her hands on her hips.

  “I suppose you’ll be having your way with me,” she said, bobbing her head as if trying to duck an invisible hand.

  The corner of his mouth twitched, just once, a motion so slight that if she’d blinked she’d have missed it. She didn’t know if it was a twitch of lust, a smirk of amusement, or a simple sneer. He blinked and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He looked carefully down Kehrsyn’s body, from her neck to her feet, then back up to her eyes.

  “I see before me the vigor of youth, an untamed colt, a bud eager to blossom into full womanhood yet entrapped by hunger and privation. Witness the energy constrained as in a seine, eager to break free anon and swim the seas of life. A year of hunger, and thy petals shall wither, their potential forever lost; a year of plenty, and the flush that even now graces thy body shall turn thy slender form into one of great loveliness. Thou hast height in excess of thy weight, and yet thou hast tamed thy awkward limbs. Thou shalt have a grace that makes even the great cats to weep with envy. The appearance of noble blood graceth thy face and carriage. Verily art thou now at the peak of thy desirability, where the delicate balance of beauty and anticipation, growth and ripening, is at its most precious: tilting, but not yet tilted.”

  He let his hands slowly drop to the table.

  “Yet I see in thy eyes the difference between ‘beaten’ and ‘broken,’ and there is a world of difference betwixt. I myself have once explored that terrible wasteland. Were I of the sort to dishonor a woman in thy unfavorable position, I do believe that I would be in risk of my longevity.”

  He smiled slightly but sincerely. Kehrsyn shifted uncertainly and looked askance at the man.

  She asked, “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I should think that is self-evident. Thou hast perpetrated a crime upon this house.”

  “I know,” said Kehrsyn bravely. “I figured you’d just either ruin me or kill me. Or both.”

  He winced ever so slightly.

  “Please,” he said, holding up one hand, “think thou more broadly. Execution I shall save as a distinct eventuality, but I shall hope to obviate its occurrence.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kehrsyn.

  “Clearly, thou wert not alone in this misdeed, for this was a masterful, knowledgeable work. Confess thou thy crime, and make thou thy repentance by naming thy fellows. This shall see thee free.”

  “I—I don’t know their names,” admitted Kehrsyn, “and I’ve only ever met one of them, anyway.”

  Her interrogator blinked several times in surprise.

  “It’s true,” said Kehrsyn, desperation spilling her words out in rapid succession. “They were watching me in the courtyard, and they followed me, and they trapped me in this alley, and they framed me for killing this Zhent that I didn’t kill but he thought I’d stolen something only I hadn’t because this kid gave it to me, and the woman, she knew I hadn’t stolen it, but she made it look like I did, and she gave me this—” Kehrsyn started to point to her slave brand but stopped herself short—“That is, they gave me this map to this building, and told me to steal this staff thing from you or else they’d tell the constables on me and I didn’t even kill the guy, so I took it because I had to and maybe if I did it they’d let me join, and I could have a place to stay. See? And—”

  She was just about to accuse Demok of allegiance to the thieves’ guild, when her interrogator held up one hand for her to stop. He squeezed his eyes shut tight beneath a furrowed brow, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other hand. Kehrsyn’s hands flipped over and over in her eagerness to spill her story, but she dared not continue until he seemed less annoyed.

  “Sir,” said Demok, “I can help.”

  Kehrsyn glanced at him suspiciously.

  “Meanest thou that thou canst sort and interpret that singular volley, nay, that tempest of words?” the merchant asked.

  “I can start,” he replied. “I watched her … perform two days ago. Great skill. She left the Jackal’s Courtyard. I followed.”

  Kehrsyn crinkled her nose in confusion. The guild’s scout was obviously trying some sort of gambit to cover himself.

  “Wherefore?” asked the merchant.

  Demok blinked, looked at Kehrsyn, looked back at his employer, and said, “I thought her a good resource. Contractor or employee.”

  “I see,” responded the man, drumming his fingers together.

  “Within moments,” Demok continued, “the watch raised an alarm. They said a woman had seen this one kill a Zhent.”

  “That’s not true! She killed him and you know it!” blurted Kehrsyn, but she held her tongue when Demok nodded and gestured at her to be silent.

  “The accusation was made,” he said. “I don’t believe it. Don’t think she has it in her. Also saw a sorceress shadow her, not to capture, despite the reward.”

  “That was her,” she said, half to Demok and half to the merchant prince. “The sorceress, I mean. She was the woman who got me into that trouble. She killed the Zhent but told the guards I did it, then she followed me to see how well I could get away from them. She said it was a test to see how good I was, but she was also trying to scare me into doing what she wanted. Luckily they didn’t check out my hiding spot. Otherwise, I’d probably be a goner by now.” Kehrsyn fidgeted with her shackled hands. “After that, she gave me the map and told me what to steal and where they wanted me to bring it, and, if I didn’t, they’d either turn me in or just kill me.”

  “They?” asked the merchant.

  “The thieves’ guild,” answered Kehrsyn.

  “There’s no thieves’ guild in Messemprar,” countered one of the guards.

  Kehrsyn just shrugged.

  “So thou wouldst have me believe that thou wert blackmailed into performing this theft, under threat of being turned over for this murder of which thou art innocent?”

  “Murder of a deputized guard,” clarified Demok.

  Kehrsyn nodded meekly.

  “It seemeth a fanciful alibi,” grumbled Ahegi. “She shall be tortured for names and discarded.”

  “Fits what I saw,” said Demok. “Zhent was killed. Caught her outside the Thayans’.”

  The merchant laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. He studied Kehrsyn, glanced at Demok, and studied Kehrsyn some more.

  “Unchain ye her,” he said in a soft voice, “and bring ye her a chair and some mulled wine.”

  The room burst into motion, and Kehrsyn found herself seated comfortably with a hot mug.

  As he held the chair for her, Demok whispered, “Be grateful.”

  “Let us start of new,” said the merchant.

  Kehrsyn noticed that his baritone voice had softened. Her heart skipped a beat to hear someone with such power treating her with kindness and speaking so softly. Her experiences with those in power had heretofore always involved raised voices, commands, and threats. She nodded and tried to relax, but she ended up sitting forward in her chair, clutchi
ng the warm mug between her hands.

  “I am called Massedar,” he said. “Wing’s Reach is my house, the center of a modestly sizeable mercantile and expeditionary combine. This room is the center of Wing’s Reach, wherein agreements are detailed at the onset and consummated at the end. Upon the observations of my servant Demok and my own instincts, we open such an agreement now.

  “I deal in the rare, the exotic, and the exquisite. Until recently, I had in my possession an item that not only fit, but dare I say defined all three of those categories.” He leaned forward. “Until thou, Kehrsyn,”—he pronounced the name with added emphasis, causing Kehrsyn to bite her lip—“removed that item at the behest of parties unknown. I trust thou knowest what that item was, for thou removed it with great skill and precision.” He paused and looked at her blank eyes. “Knowest thou what that item doth?” he asked.

  Kehrsyn shook her head. “I don’t really know anything about it other than it’s supposed to be some necromancer’s staff.”

  Massedar pursed his lips. “Fascinating,” he said. “That is in part correct. The item hath great powers worthy of no small service unto the plight of the army of Unther. We had recently recovered this item upon expedition, which claimed the lives and souls of some twenty of the near thirty who risked the venture. We have since been negotiating a suitable method of granting this item’s power unto the army, that it should smite the Mulhorandi forces in one fell battle.”

  “But the guild said that you were going to sell the staff,” said Kehrsyn.

  Ahegi snorted. Massedar smiled slightly and said, “And they, a self-styled guild of thieves, hath intent to save Unther? The guild hath reversed the roles, my dear. I shall use the staff to save our people. The guild would fain sell it for profit. They are, after all, thieves, and they care not a whit who ruleth the day, so long as they should rule the night.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Kehrsyn, absently running her fingers along the edges of her brand. “They don’t trust me, so why should I trust them?”

  “That bringeth us to you, my dear,” said Massedar, “and thy role in this intrigue.”

  “Let me guess,” Kehrsyn said. She half-smiled, wryly raising one corner of her mouth. “You want me to burglarize the thieves’ guild and bring your magic wand back to you.”

  Massedar winced and leaned back, pressing his fingers to his temples.

  “Please,” he said, “is it not enough that High Untheric hath been abandoned by the populace? Must we also mangle the vulgar words of the common tongue?” He exhaled. “Please, young gentlewoman, the word is ‘burgle,’ not ‘burglarize.’ Thou art a ‘burglar,’ not a … a ‘burglarizationator.’ ” He shuddered. “Thou art a talented young gentlewoman, with grace, intelligence, and beauty. Develop thou thy tongue to be equally attractive.”

  “Sorry,” said Kehrsyn.

  “As to thy point, yes, that shall be thy role in this affair. Thou shalt hazard to undo the wrong that thou hast done. Furthermore, the endeavor thou shalt undertake as a retainer of Wing’s Reach. Shouldst thou return the aforementioned item, thou shalt be recompensed for thy efforts, with a bounty of, say, one hundred gold shekae for its safe return, plus healing for all wounds incurred.”

  Kehrsyn’s jaw dropped. That was more than she’d made in the last two or three years, and all for what might be a single night’s work!

  Massedar looked amused. “I take it that this rate is acceptable unto thee?”

  Kehrsyn recovered her aplomb—most of it, at least. She’d never seen someone so free with his gold, let alone when it was being spent in her direction. Nor, for that matter, had she ever met someone of wealth and standing who was able to look past her street-urchin veneer and see the woman beneath.

  “Uh, yeah,” she said, “that would be fine. Then … you won’t turn me over for stealing?”

  “Heavens, no,” said Massedar with distaste. “If thou canst do this, why ever would I throw away a work of art such as thee? Perish the thought.”

  “Good. Well … great!” said Kehrsyn. “I’ll do my best.” She thought about the situation for a moment and smiled. “It’ll be good to turn the horns on a certain someone.”

  “So be it,” said Massedar with finality. “Demok shall see to thy needs.”

  Demok ushered her up and started to guide her out of the room, but at the door Kehrsyn pulled away, just in time to see Massedar open the doors to his quarters.

  “I want an advance!” she exclaimed, need overcoming her self-consciousness.

  Massedar turned around, a hard look in his handsome blue eyes.

  “You want coin?” yelled Ahegi. “Thinkest thou to line thy purse and flee?”

  “No,” said Kehrsyn, “no gold. I … I want a hot bath. Please, sir.”

  Massedar stared at her for another moment, then chuckled.

  “So be it,” he said. “See ye her provided with the largest bath in this house, with oils and soaps. Wash her garments whilst she relaxeth, and send unto her whatsoever she desireth to break her fast.”

  The servants later told him they had never seen someone so thin eat so much.

  By the time Kehrsyn pulled her warm, well-fed body out of the deep bronze tub (she’d insisted on eating while she bathed, for the sensation of being warm was even more delicious than the foods), it was approaching midday. The sky shone bright and clear, and ambient light reflected off the snow that clung on the rooftops. It was altogether a sapphire day.

  As she left Wing’s Reach, Kehrsyn saw Demok leaning against the wall, watching the crowds walk past, his eyes sharp and attentive, his brows drawn together. He stopped her as she passed.

  “Know what you’re doing?” he asked seriously.

  “I’m burgling unto the knaves whosoever hast maked me unto burgle,” she said, her voice flippant but her eyes shining with grim determination.

  She started to walk away, and Demok fell into step beside her, his long gait allowing him to keep pace easily.

  “Not what I meant,” he said as they sloshed their way through the streets, wisps of condensation puffing away from their noses in the breeze. “Can you? Need help?”

  Kehrsyn pondered before answering, “Can I trust you?”

  He did not answer but held her glance, and she saw his eyes were as cool and solid as granite. About the same color, too, she noted. She pressed her lips together and nodded. Demok had a position of authority with a rich and powerful man, and she doubted anything that passed in through those eyes was ever spoken of again.

  Having received an answer to her first question, she asked a second: “You’re not, like, a member of the thieves’ guild, right?”

  “If I were, you’d be dead.”

  She giggled nervously, then walked along in silence for some time.

  “I didn’t have a good childhood,” she said tentatively. It had been a long time since she’d talked about herself, but so much was new or upside-down that she felt she needed to confide in someone. “I never knew my father, and Mother didn’t have a copper wedge to spend. As early as I can remember, I stole food to get enough to eat. I got real good, too, sneaking, stealing, running, hiding …” She snorted. “Acting innocent. For a while, I was innocent. It was all a game. But I remember one day my mother was showing me a new trick—I don’t remember what it was—and I looked up and there were tears in her eyes. I never asked her about it, but I knew even then that she was crying because she knew it was wrong, but she was teaching me because she wanted me to live. My life was never the same, because, from then on, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I kept on doing it anyway. As I got older, the memory of those tears made me think about stealing, how I was like a leech, taking food that belonged to other people and leaving my hunger in its place. I tried stealing from different people, but that only spread my own misery around more. I tried stealing only from a few rich people, but that made them poorer, so they had less coin to pay the poor people who worked for them. I was trapped in a life that was crushing m
y pride, making me hate myself for the pain I caused other people by wanting to eat. It was like I hurt people just by being alive.

  “So one spring day I was sitting and watching the buds just starting to sprout out of this lichen-covered plum tree. It was so beautiful, seeing those little nubs shaped like candle flames but colored the brightest green you could ever want to see. On each one you could see the outline of all these little teeny leaves just waiting to unfold and grow. What made it even better was that it was an old, gnarled tree growing wild by the side of a cart track, all twisted and broken and rough, with knotty bark all covered with black and pale lichen. It was like a tree that had been dead for years and shriveled and burned and tossed aside, yet it had all that life inside just bursting to get out, beauty and hope splitting out at the seams all over the place.

  “I decided I wanted to be that tree. I wanted a new life. I promised right then and there, swore on the sun god Hokatep that I’d never steal again. I found some work here and there, practiced the tricks you’ve seen, earned a few egorae that way—at least I did when times were better—and I got by. I had enough to eat most times, but, best of all, I felt good about myself. I found pride in my skills. Sometimes people even wanted me around, when the harvest was in and people had mintweight and they wanted to see someone without the talent play at being a wizard.

  “See, here, like this,” she said, stopping in the middle of the street. “Hold out your hand.”

  Demok hesitated, then held out his right hand. She turned his hand palm up and placed a copper in his palm, then turned his hips so his body faced her. Then she struck the heel of his hand with hers, snatching the coin from his palm.

  He shrugged, unimpressed.

  “The trick is distraction. While you were looking at your palm, I was doing my real trick. Take off your glove.”

  Instead, he felt the back of his right hand. Through the thin leather of his glove, he felt a coin. He dug in with his fingers and pulled out a silver. He pursed his lips and handed it back to her.