The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  Emmy, her palace is guarded by an army. One little squeak out of her and I’ll have thirty armed men climbing all over me.

  Then we’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t squeak, won’t we? She considered it. I think we’d better leave Eliar and Bheid here—and your horse. We’ll want to move very quietly. I’m a cat, and you’re a thief. We know how to be quiet; they don’t.

  How long have you known that Andine would be joining us?

  Since the moment Eliar read the Knife.

  Why didn’t we pick her up before we went to Awes?

  That would have been out of sequence, pet. Everything must be in its proper place and time.

  Althalus glanced at Eliar, and he remembered the way Arya Andine had looked at the boy. I think your brother’s got a very warped sense of humor, Em, he said.

  Why, Althalus, she said, I’m shocked at you. Shocked.

  It was well past midnight when Althalus and Emmy slipped into Andine’s palace in the center of Osthos. This time, Emmy chose to walk rather than ride, and she moved on silent feet ahead of the thief, passing warnings back to him. Once they were inside the massive palace, she led him to the Arya’s private quarters. She’s asleep, Emmy advised. There are two guards outside her door. Encourage them to take a little nap.

  How?

  Try “leb.”

  Will that work?

  It always has before. After we leave, you’d better wake them up again, though. People might think it’s a little peculiar if they sleep for fifty or sixty years the way you used to do back in the House.

  Is that the way you did it?

  Of course. Step right along, Althalus. The night won’t last forever, you know.

  The pair of guards at Andine’s door were still standing, but their chins had sagged down onto their chests and they were snoring softly. Althalus reached past them and took hold of the door handle.

  Then Emmy hissed.

  “What’s the problem?” he whispered.

  Argan!

  “What’s an Argan?”

  It’s a who, not a what. This guard on the left is Argan.

  “Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?”

  I mentioned him before. Argan’s another one of Ghend’s underlings.

  “That’s convenient.” Althalus reached for his dagger.

  Put that away, Emmy said in a disgusted tone.

  “It’s a nice, simple solution, Em.”

  Perhaps, but how do you plan to solve the problem that’ll come up later?

  “Which problem is that?”

  Returning him to life when he absolutely must be alive and well.

  “I didn’t follow that.”

  I didn’t really think you would. Put the knife away, Althalus. You aren’t the one who’s supposed to deal with Argan—any more than you were the one who’s supposed to deal with Pekhal or Khnom. Just leave him alone.

  “Hold it, Em. Doesn’t this mean that Ghend knew we were coming here?”

  Probably, yes.

  “How did he find out?”

  Probably because Daeva told him.

  “How did Daeva find out?”

  The same way I did, of course. We hear things that you can’t, Althalus. I know about people like Khnom and Pekhal and Argan, and Daeva knows about people like Eliar and Bheid and Andine. They’re significant people, and significant people give off a certain sound that we can hear. Just leave Argan alone. Let’s get Andine and get out of here before Argan wakes.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N

  The moon was full, and its pale light streamed in through the open window of the Arya’s bedroom to fall upon the sleeping girl’s face. Her mass of dark hair spilled out over her pillow, and sleep had softened her imperious expression, making her seem very vulnerable and very, very young.

  As silent as a shadow, Emmy flowed up onto the bed and sat beside the sleeping girl’s pillow. Her green eyes were a mystery as she regarded the face of her sometime mistress. Then she started to purr.

  How do we get her out of here? Althalus asked silently. I suppose I could carry her, but—

  She’ll walk, Emmy replied. Look around and find her some clothes and a dark cape.

  Doesn’t she have to be awake to walk? And won’t she start screaming even before her eyes are open?

  I know what I’m doing, Althalus. Trust me. Get her some clothes.

  Althalus poked around until he found boots, a well-made cloak, and clothing suitable for travel. When he turned, he saw Andine sitting on the edge of the bed. Her huge eyes were open, but they obviously saw nothing.

  Just bundle up her clothes, Emmy said. I’ll have her dress herself once we’re outside the city. The cloak should be enough for now.

  Andine stood up, her eyes still blank, and she was holding Emmy in her arms. Althalus draped the cloak about her shoulders. How long can you keep her asleep like this? he asked Emmy.

  As long as I need to.

  Six or eight weeks might not be a bad idea. If the first face she sees when she wakes just happens to be Eliar’s, things might start to get noisy.

  Emmy’s eyes grew thoughtful. You might have a point there, she murmured in his mind. Let me think about it for a bit. Shall we go?

  They led their sleeping captive out into the corridor, and Althalus stopped briefly to examine the face of the sleeping Argan. Ghend’s henchman had yellow hair and regular features.

  What are you doing? Emmy asked.

  I want to be sure I’ll recognize him when I see him again, Althalus replied grimly.

  They went back down the corridor, and after they’d rounded a corner, Althalus reached back and woke Argan and his companion. Then he silently led the Arya of Osthos out of her palace.

  They moved quietly through the darkened streets of Osthos. Althalus used “leb” to put the gate guards to sleep, and they left the city.

  “I think you were right, Althalus,” Emmy said as Andine woodenly dressed herself. “It might be better to keep her mind asleep until we cross over into Perquaine. By noon tomorrow, her soldiers are going to be looking under every bush in Treborea for her.”

  They soon rejoined Eliar and Bheid, and Eliar looked rather closely at the young woman who probably still wanted desperately to kill him. “Is she all right?” he asked with a note of concern in his voice. “I mean, you didn’t have to hurt her, did you?”

  “Emmy put her to sleep,” Althalus replied. “It’ll probably be better to keep her that way until we get her out of Treborea.”

  “She won’t be able to sit a horse in her present condition,” Bheid suggested.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Eliar said. “I’ll sit her on my horse in front of me. I can keep her from falling off.”

  “All right,” Althalus agreed. “She’s your responsibility. Take care of her. Let’s move out. I want to put some distance between us and Osthos by morning.”

  They crossed the River Maghu just to the north of the Perquaine city of Gagan two days later and moved into the drought-stricken countryside to the west. Arya Andine had remained semiconscious, and Eliar had been strangely solicitous of her throughout the journey. He held her in place in front of him as they rode and lifted her on and off his horse with a peculiar gentleness. He fed her at mealtimes, and his own appetite seemed to have fallen off considerably.

  “Is it my imagination, or is he behaving just a bit oddly?” Bheid asked Althalus after they’d crossed the river.

  “Eliar takes his responsibilities very seriously,” Althalus replied, “and he’s always volunteering because he wants to be helpful. He’ll probably outgrow that in time.”

  Bheid chuckled. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t think he should be quite so close to Andine when she wakes up. If she hates him as much as you say she does, she’ll probably try to reach down his throat and jerk out his heart as soon as she lays her eyes on him.”

  “We’ll find out before long, I expect. Emmy’s going to wake our little girl this evening, and you and I sh
ould probably be on our toes when Eliar holds the Knife out for her to read. She might take that as an invitation.”

  They took shelter in the ruins of a long-abandoned house late that afternoon, and Althalus called up beef for supper before Emmy could suggest fish. Eliar, as he had since they’d left Osthos, cut up Andine’s supper and fed her carefully. She sat placidly with her hands folded in her lap, opening her mouth as he held each bite to her lips, much as a sparrow chick might.

  After they’d eaten, Emmy commandeered Althalus’ voice again to give them their instructions. “I want you to be standing directly in front of her with the Knife right in front of her eyes when I wake her, Eliar. That way she’ll see the Knife before she sees you. Once she reads the Knife, she’ll be more or less compelled to do as she’s told. She might rant and rave a bit, but she won’t try to kill you.”

  Eliar seated their captive on a square stone block by their fire, took out the Knife, and stood in front of her with the blade before her eyes. Emmy leaped up into the girl’s lap, nestled against her, and purred.

  The life flowed back into the Arya’s huge dark eyes.

  “Can you tell me what that peculiar writing says, your Highness?” Althalus asked her, pointing at the Knife.

  “Obey,” Andine said almost automatically.

  The Knife sang joyously, and Emmy purred all the louder.

  Andine’s expression was at once baffled and stunned. Then she seemed to realize suddenly that Emmy was in her lap. She seized the cat up in her arms and held her tightly. “Naughty cat!” she scolded. “Don’t you ever run away like that again. Where have you been?”

  Then she looked at the ruins around them in utter astonishment as the Knife continued its song. “Where am I?” she demanded.

  “You’d better stay seated, your Highness,” Althalus suggested. “You’ll probably be a bit dizzy right at first.”

  The Arya, however, didn’t appear to be listening. She was staring at Eliar instead. “You!” she said sharply. She dropped Emmy and sprang directly at the young Arum, both of her hands extended clawlike at his face. “Assassin!” she shrieked.

  Then she reeled and would have fallen had Eliar not caught her. “Be careful, your Highness!” the boy exclaimed. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

  “Let me take care of her, Eliar,” Bheid suggested. “Let’s get her calmed down a bit.”

  “I can do it, Bheid,” Eliar protested. “She can’t really hurt me, you know.”

  “Maybe not, but the sight of you might be hurting her. I’m sure she’ll come around, but it might be best if you stayed clear of her for a while.”

  “He’s probably right, Eliar,” Althalus agreed. “The girl’s a little emotional.”

  “A little?” Eliar said. Then he sighed a bit regretfully. “Maybe you’re right, though. I’ll stay away from her for a few days.”

  Althalus and Bheid reseated Andine by the fire, and Emmy leaped up into the girl’s lap again.

  “Where are we?” Andine asked in her vibrant voice.

  “Perquaine, your Highness,” Althalus replied.

  “Perquaine? That’s impossible!”

  “I wouldn’t be too quick to start throwing that word around, your Highness,” Bheid advised her. “Althalus here can do almost anything, and Emmy can do even more.”

  “I don’t believe I know you,” she said.

  “My name is Bheid,” he introduced himself. “I’m a priest. Well . . . I was until Althalus called me.”

  “Just what’s going on here, Master Althalus?” the girl demanded. “I thought you were taking the slaves you bought from me to the salt mines of Ansu.”

  “I sort of lied about that, your Highness,” he admitted blandly. “Eliar was the only one I really needed. I told the rest of them to go home.”

  “You thief!” Her voice rose, soaring dramatically.

  “That’s a fairly accurate description, yes,” he agreed. “Let’s clear the air here just a bit. You’ve just entered the service of Deiwos, the Sky God.”

  “That’s absurd!”

  “Andine,” he said firmly. “What was the word you read on the Knife?”

  “It said, ‘obey,’ ” she replied.

  “Exactly. Now hush. Don’t interrupt me when I’m explaining things to you. I’m the teacher; you’re the student. I’m supposed to teach. You’re supposed to sit there and look stupid.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Shush, Andine!”

  Her eyes went very wide. She struggled, fighting the compulsion he’d just laid upon her, but no sound came from her mouth.

  “I have a feeling that might prove to be useful from time to time,” Bheid murmured as if to himself.

  “That’ll do, Bheid,” Althalus told him.

  “Sorry.”

  Althalus patiently explained the situation to his reluctant pupil. “It gets easier to accept after a while,” he assured her after he’d finished. “I thought I’d gone insane when Emmy first got her paws on me, but that passed—eventually. She has her little ways, as you probably already know.”

  “What do you mean?” the girl asked.

  “Wake up, Andine. Would you have really sold Eliar to me unless something very powerful had gotten its little paws on your heart? Killing him was the only thing on your mind that day when I walked into your palace. Then Emmy jumped up into your lap and started purring at you. After about a half hour of that, you’d have given me the entire city of Osthos for her, now wouldn’t you?”

  “Well . . .” Andine looked helplessly at the cat in her lap. “She’s so adorable,” the girl said, catching Emmy up in her arms and snuggling her face up to the furry captor of her heart.

  “You noticed,” Althalus said drily. “Don’t try to fight her, because she always wins. Just give her all your love and do as she tells you to do. You might as well, because she’ll cheat to get what she wants if she has to.”

  I think that’s about enough, Althalus. Emmy’s voice crackled crisply in his mind.

  Yes, dear, he replied. Did you happen to read the Knife when Eliar showed it to Andine?

  Of course.

  Where do we go next?

  Hule.

  Hule’s a big place, Em. You didn’t by any chance happen to pick up the name of the one we want, did you?

  We don’t need the name of this one, pet. He’ll find you.

  “You two are talking to each other again, aren’t you?” Eliar asked a bit wistfully.

  “She was just giving me our instructions. We have to go to Hule.”

  Eliar’s eyes brightened. “We’ll be passing through Arum then, won’t we? Do you think I might have time to stop and say hello to my mother? She worries about me a lot.”

  “I think we can arrange that,” Althalus agreed. “I don’t think you should tell her what we’re doing, though.”

  Eliar grinned. “I’m pretty good at that. There were a lot of things I did when I was just a boy that I didn’t tell her about. I didn’t come right out and lie to her, of course. A boy should never lie to his mother, but now and then things sort of slipped my mind. You know how that can happen.”

  “Oh, yes.” Althalus laughed. “Things have been slipping my mind for as long as I can remember.”

  “I’m sort of hungry, Althalus,” Eliar said. “I’ve been so busy taking care of her Highness here that I seem to have missed a few meals. I’m absolutely starving.”

  “You’d better feed him, Althalus,” Bheid suggested. “We don’t want him wasting away on us.”

  “You might ask her Highness if she’d like something, too,” Eliar added. “I couldn’t get her to eat very much at all at lunchtime.”

  Andine was staring at them.

  “You missed all that, didn’t you, Andine?” Bheid said a bit slyly. “After Emmy put you to sleep, Eliar looked after you like a mother hen with only one chick. He spent more time feeding you than he spent feeding himself, and food’s very important to young Eliar just now. If you watch him closely,
you can almost see him grow.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s a grown man.”

  “No, he’s only a boy,” Bheid corrected her. “He’s probably not much older than you are.”

  “He’s bigger than any man in Osthos.”

  “Arums are bigger than Treboreans,” Althalus told her. “The farther north you go, the taller people get—maybe so that they’re tall enough to see over all the snow that piles up in the north.”

  “If he’s only a boy, what was he doing in a war?”

  “He comes from a warrior culture. They start earlier than civilized people do. It was his first war, and it was supposed to be a quiet one. The half-wit who sits on the throne in Kanthon got carried away, though, so he ordered the soldiers he’d hired from Eliar’s Clan Chief to invade your father’s territory. It was a stupid thing to do, and it wasn’t supposed to happen. It was his fault that your father got killed, not Eliar’s. Eliar was only following orders. The whole business was the result of a series of stupid mistakes, but that’s what most wars are all about, I guess. Nobody ever really wins a war, when you get right down to it. Do you think you could eat something? You don’t really have to, but Eliar’s worried about how little he was able to get you to eat on our way here from Osthos.”

  “Why should he care?”

  “He feels responsible for you, and Eliar takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

  “You put me in the care of that monster?” Her voice soared. “I’m lucky he didn’t kill me!”

  “He wouldn’t do that, Andine—quite the opposite, actually. If somebody had threatened you along the way, Eliar would have killed him, not you, or he’d have died trying.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Go ask him.”

  “I wouldn’t talk to him if my life depended on it.”

  “Someday it might, Andine, so don’t lock yourself in stone on this issue.”

  Let it lie, Althalus, Emmy’s voice told him. She isn’t ready for this yet. Keep those two apart for now. Turn her over to Bheid for a while. I’ll stay with her and try to get her past this.

  Should I buy her a horse?