Lhind the Thief

by Sherwood Smith

  “You think he suborned her,” Thianra said slowly.

  “I don’t know. Not consciously, perhaps, but she’s so . . . oh, so gallant, but so ignorant. Desperately so.” A sharp sigh followed this. “Look, I hate to see any creature’s freedom curtailed, but it’s for her own safety. That accursed sorcerer has got to be after her for a reason, and I’ll gamble my life he doesn’t intend any good by her.”

  “Then I say we set her free. If she’s not here, we can tell him she’s not here. As for the other problems, we knew before we ever met Lhind that we’d be having them sooner or later.” That was Rajanas.

  “Can’t you give her at least a start on the training she needs?” Thianra asked.

  “I tried,” Hlanan said dully. “And I’ve failed. Why do you think I insisted we abduct her in the first place? We make a vow before we ever leave the School not to leave any lone mages we find without trying to bring them to accept the Council pledges, if not the training. I don’t know if I’ve done too much or too little, but I do know I’ve completely failed. Lhind is now more a danger to the world, and herself, than she was as a thief running around Thesreve casting illusions. She trusts no one—and we cannot trust her. Lying, for her, is . . .”

  “A game,” Rajanas said. “I distinctly recall a pair of escaped galley slaves who played that very same game.”

  “I call that a habit of survival,” came Thianra’s gentle voice.

  Hlanan gave a sharp sigh. “The point is, I can’t believe anything she says, though I want to. Maybe that is why I failed, because I want to . . . but that is my problem to deal with. Right now, we have Lendan and his book, Dhes-Andis and his threat, and the Wolf Grays up in the Pass. So I guess that adds the King of Liacz to our problems.”

  “That,” Rajanas said wryly, “is nothing new.”

  Hlanan went on in a low voice, “I’ve failed in every possible direction. I think it’s time to call on the Council’s aid, and quickly.”

  Silence.

  I knew what it meant.

  I backed out from under the window and retreated into the next room. Like a shadow, Kee joined me, her brow furrowed.

  I swallowed something about the size of a sun-fruit that had suddenly lodged in my throat. “I’m gone.” I hated the way my voice sounded high. “Soon’s I recover my stash.”

  “I know where it is,” she said softly. “I’ll show you.”

  We sped through more fancy halls to a small, plain room on the ground floor. On a table between the windows lay all my burglar tools, including my empty bag of liref, with Faryana’s diamonds and the few coins and jewels I had left. I swept them up, hesitating over Faryana’s diamonds.

  Did they know what those were? I wondered if I should leave them, but instinct warned me not to. I know you can’t hear the others, and even though you won’t talk to me I’ll see what I can do to spring you, I promised the silent diamonds as I dropped them into the bag.

  “I can get you a cloak,” Kee said.

  “I’ll wait here.” I tried a jaunty smile. “I can go out the window when you get back. No one will see me. Thanks, Kee.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t say what for, but departed in haste, her expression even more troubled.

  I wandered around the room, trying to think over everything I’d learned. Everything I’d done. But my brain didn’t want to work, and all I heard, over and over, was Hlanan saying, We cannot trust her. Even worse? I can’t believe anything she says.

  When Kee returned she put a thick, plain-colored folded cloak in my hands, and then she handed me the pack she’d carried on our shortened journey. “I don’t think you’d do any magic to hurt any of us,” she said. “But they’re not asking what I think.”

  Without any thought to the consequences. “Are you going to get into trouble for this?”

  She glanced down at her open hands. “Kuraf will hear me out.”

  “Well,” I said awkwardly. Then, remembering the liref, “What happened to Rajanas’s Steward? The one who drugged their cider?”

  “He disappeared. Just ahead of Lendan’s assassins, apparently. But he saw to it that his highness escaped first.”

  I remembered what Kuraf had said about waiting to hear his side before judging him. Kuraf, at least, knew that motivations were not all evil or good, or maybe that people might think their motivations good, but others would disagree.

  I couldn’t get that into words. Thinking that way was too new. So I stayed with the immediate. “I’ll try to pay you back, Kee. I promise.”

  “If you find a way to help,” she said, earnest as always, “there will be no debt.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but left.

  I opened the window and breathed deeply of the cool, moist air.

  Rain was on the way. I’d best find shelter by night, I thought as I swung out and dropped into the lacy shrubbery of the garden. Shelter, and a disguise to cover my hair and tail.

  Planning for weather and these other details was better than hearing Hlanan say over and over I’ve failed. And Lhind is now a danger to the world.

  Worst of all, what he’d said about trust.

  I slunk through the garden. When I reached the fence I donned the dun-colored cloak, pulled the hood over my head, and slipped into the city. By midday I was plodding bent-backed behind a long line of carts going out through the city gates. The watchful Guards on the gate gave me no more than a glance.

  The sun rested atop the highest of the mountains behind me when I crossed the bridge past the last stone plinth of Alezand. The next plinth, on a weather-worn ridge above the river that marked the border, said NAMAS ILAN, and below it, arrows pointing out names of villages or towns, none of which meant anything to me.

  I remembered that Imbradi was situated in the northwestern portion of the principality.

  I looked around slowly, past the slanting shadows cast by the long prairie grass. Where to go? Behind me lay Imbradi, I’d just stepped onto the western corner of Namas Ilan, which I knew nothing about, with the bulk of Liacz above it. South beyond Alezand lay Keprima, and eventually, Thesreve. Eastward were the nigh impassable Anadhan Mountains, and on their other side the legendary capital city of Charas al Kherval, Erev-li-Erval. Either west or east were mountains, among whose peaks it was rumored the Snow Folk lived. Should I try to find them?

  Faryana, are there Hrethans in the Kertean Mountains?

  No answer.

  There are, but you will not find them, came Dhes-Andis’ voice. I have not, after considerable hunt.

  I jumped, staring around wildly. Then I remembered what had happened aboard the caravel before Hlanan woke up. You have my range, I shaped the words with care, keeping my inner door shut enough so that no thoughts or images escaped, only the words I meant to send. That means you can talk to me this way, without any aids, clear from Sveran Djur?

  Acid laughter tumbled darkly through my mind. I can, and you will, too. Come, child. I have been patient, a rarity that carried its own brief interest. You show all the potential and the prowess that I’d hoped for. Your ignorance is a little matter requiring time and attention. We will amend that very quickly.

  Hoped for? I stumbled forward on the road, unable to see the road around me. Images came with his words, the merest flicker. One a blue-haired woman, the other a tall pale-haired man. It was the vision of the blue-haired lady that caused me to stop in my tracks, unable to see, to breathe. “I know her! The Blue Lady.” I choked on the words.

  A triumph of an alliance, don’t you think? Your remarkable gift for the arts comes from your mother. She was the best of her kind. But the prowess is part of our Andis-Sveranji blood.

  My world had splintered. I clutched my head, remembering— remembering. “She was my mother?”

  She also bequeathed to you her regrettable sentimentality, the cold, stinging voice went on. But you will unlearn that weakness fast enough.

  Unheeding, I thought, The Blue Lady. My mother. Where is she?

  She abandoned you an
d returned to her own world. You were lost, but now you are found again, and you are mine. Come to Sveran Djur.

  Tears stung my eyes. I thumbed them away. “I don’t care what you say,” I shouted. “I loved those dreams of her, and I always will. I loved her. And I don’t like you. I don’t trust you.”

  Dhes-Andis’s thought scoured my mind with scornful amusement. Trust is the cry of the weak, and to heed it renders you equally weak. When I give a command my servant has a choice: obey or be destroyed. I have no interest in their puling opinions of me. Or in yours either, my ignorant young apprentice.

  I won’t, I cried in mind. But still I listened.

  You remember the fire spell, don’t you, Lhind? he continued, giving me back my own image of drawing fire down from the boiling clouds, and shooting bolts at the frightened guards who moments before were ready to thrash me. See? I permit you that absurd diminutive your mother insisted on calling you, which will suffice until you have learned enough to assume your real name, your place, your power. He must have sensed that leap of my heart at the words ‘real name,’ but he seemed to think my reaction was to the word ‘power.’ Yes! You sampled power and if you are not afraid of the real truth you know you want more. You have the potential to have more. I will train you, and then set you on your own path. With the words came images, compelling and fascinating: whole rivers set aflame; mountains smashed, sending boulders sky high; a vast army, glittering with weapons and chain mail, all kneeling and bowing their heads before me. Your mother’s blood gave you the ability to shape magic, but it is your Andis-Sveranji strength that will permit you to use it.

  His projected images were so alluring that I envisioned myself as he wanted me to. But the grand view of me standing on a castle wall waving a hand and sending armies on the march only lasted for a heartbeat. Much more compelling were the memories of individuals. Hlanan on board the caravel fighting to protect Kee against pirates who singly more than outmatched him. Kee saying with inner conviction ‘Kuraf will hear me out’ —and me knowing this was true. And Rajanas pressing a knife into my hand and saying ‘Even a thief deserves to fight for its life.’

  When they work together like that, their strength as a whole is greater than any single part, I thought to myself. Maybe that’s the strength in trust. When each depends on the others, knowing they will do their part. That’s enduring power, because it gives. Doesn’t take.

  I’d always had to trust myself. Then came the thought: Even if I had all that magic Dhes-Andis promised, if I don’t eventually trust somebody else, well, who would watch when I sleep?

  Was this why that sorcerer had not left his stronghold in Sveran Djur to find me himself?

  To him I thought, You may’s well get yourself another apprentice because it’s not going to be me.

  I whirled about, and took the first running steps back to Imbradi. Back to the people I liked, and to my old, easy ignorance—

  Stay. The voice cut into my mental turmoil with a compelling sharpness. You cannot recross the border.

  I stopped so fast I tripped over my own feet and fell painfully on my tail. What? Why?

  Why do you think I permitted the girl to let you slip out? I’ve just now bound Rajanas of Alezand’s troublesome province in a barrier spell. When I am done with them Alezand will beg for the privilege of becoming a vassal state. In the meantime no one can cross the border and live.

  “A barrier spell?” I whispered the words out loud. I had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t think it was anything good.

  I will send someone to you.

  NO! I shouted that thought as hard as I could.

  Do not try my patience too far. I am capable of teaching obedience in a manner you would bitterly regret.

  When in a bind, lie, had always been my policy. Maybe that was my Andis-Sveranji blood. Hoo. So . . . how much of what he said is really true?

  I guess I need some time, I hedged.

  Once again Dhes-Andis’ laughter rolled like thunder through my mind. I turned and faced south, thinking of Thesreve. Knowing he could hear my thoughts. Then I shut the inner eyelid.

  I could almost feel him battering at my own inner barrier, but I knew I could hold him out—at least as long as I was awake—and I thought, Time to run. But where?

  Looking back in the direction I’d come, I descried a greenish shimmer in the air. Stretching my hands toward it, I felt the warning tingle that I now associated with strong magic. I thought of Kee’s forthright face; I thought about all of them penned there, waiting for a mage-war that they couldn’t win. And I remembered my promise.

  Who was strong enough to fight Dhes-Andis?

  I wasn’t.

  Who, then?

  I faced the east, where already the sky deepened toward nightfall. It was too late for mere military allies. Beyond those mountains dwelt the Empress Aranu Crown. She would have both the armies and the court sorcerers who could face down the Djuran invaders.

  Rajanas’s voice drifted through my mind, Kressanthe will tell stories at Court of this accursed mudball of a thief . . . I thought of Hlanan’s Magic Council, all ready to pounce on me.

  And I thought: Is Dhes-Andis really my father? Impossible, instinct said, except my old memory of the Blue Lady and the image he’d sent me matched. The tall, pale-haired man might be the sorcerer-emperor, who might be my father. I just did not know. Meanwhile, supposing someone at the Court does know, and it turns out to be true? Exactly how fast would it take them to sling Dhes-Andis’ thieving daughter into the deepest dungeon?

  The journey would be fraught with danger, all right. But then, my whole life seemed to have been one long preparation for danger. But there were always the rooftops.

  So, the choice was made. All that was left was the method of travel.

  A cold breeze sprang out of nowhere, and tugged at the hood of my cloak. I will send someone to you.

  I shuddered so hard my teeth rattled in my head.

  A fast method of travel.

  I began to run through the grasses, listening to the world around me. Before too long I raced into the strengthening wind on the back of a wild, long-limbed prairie horse.

  You are mine . . . You are mine . . .

  I pressed my knees against the horse’s sides, riding hard, as if I could escape that echo in my head, until the sun sank below the mountains in the west, and my mount slowed and slowed to a drooping walk.

  I slid off him to walk him until he had cooled, and let him trot off in search of water. The clouds had piled high into the sky, blocking the emerging stars. I had avoided any signs of habitation, but now I sought some kind of shelter. The land was too flat for caves. Maybe a barn?

  The rain had begun before I found what I was looking for, a ramshackle corn bin on the edge of a big farm. This being spring, it was empty except for left-over seed corn, spiders, and a small nest in a corner. I was soaked to the skin, so I pulled off my clothes and laid them carefully over the nearest corn barrels. Oh, the glory of having my hair free! A couple flexes of my scalp, a shake as my fuzz ruffled up, and the rain shook off me, leaving me slightly damp. I hadn’t thought to dig into the knapsack Kee had given me until that moment. I discovered not only an extra pair of trousers, a tunic, and a knit cap, but a fresh loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese. Such riches, better than diamonds, I thought happily as I pulled on the clothes, and then broke off half the loaf and the cheese.

  When I’d eaten, I climbed up under the rafters, spread the cloak over the moldery hay left up there, set my weapons and the diamonds next to me and lay down, my hair settling over me like a warm cloak.

  I lay back, exhaustion weighing me down as I listened to the roar until I caught a faint sound. A steady sploosh, sploosh.

  Footsteps.

  Sleep vanished. I sat up, reaching for one of my daggers as the door creaked, then slammed open, letting in a whirl of cold air and rain spatters.

  The invader struggled to shut the door, making too much noise to be successful as a
sneak.

  I raised the dagger as I eased into a better defensive position—

  Then lightning flashed, blue-white and shocking.

  I recognized that silhouette in the doorway. “Hlanan?”

  NINETEEN

  Lightning flared again. He shivered, wet through. Blinking rain from his eyelashes—the drops glinted like Faryana’s diamonds in the sudden flare—he stuttered, “You never looked behind you.”

  “I don’t understand. Did you follow me by magic?” I asked as I flung all my weapons and jewels and food back into the pack, and climbed down.

  “No. Can’t do magic now. Dhes-Andis would be on us in a moment. You do know that?” His quiet voice, barely audible above the low rumble of thunder, laid emphasis on the ‘do.’

  “I figured that out,” I said. “Too late. I mean, you know about the barrier spell he laid over the border?”

  “Yes. But it is worse than that. He has to know your magical signature by now. I think he might know mine. Neither of us can do magic, even an illusion. He’d be on us in a heartbeat.” Then, “How did you know about border spells?”

  Thunder rumbled and the rain roared overhead. I wished I could see him, but I didn’t really need to. I could feel his tension.

  “He pounced on me not long after I passed the last border marker, and was trying to figure out where to go,” I shouted against the rolling thunder. “Not in person! In my head! He can do it anytime he wants to. But I know how to keep him out, now. I think. I hope. Or . . . hmm.”

  Hlanan’s voice dropped as the thunder faded away in fretful rumbles, “What did he say?”

  “I’ll tell you, but first, sit. You’re shivering so hard I’m afraid your bones will crack. Here. Where’s your pack?”

  “I don’t have one. Came away without.” His voice stuttered. “Found you gone. My fault. I had to find you. Talk. Thought we’d transfer back.”

  I sighed, and pulled off my cloak. “Put this on.”

  “No, I can’t take your . . .”