Steel and Stone tms-5

by Ellen Porath

  Lacua suddenly stopped, dropped his club, and thrust his left hand into his tunic.

  "Flea?" asked Res, face creased with sympathy.

  Lacua didn't reply. He pulled two items from a pocket that Janusz had had sewn into the ice bear hide-a jewel that cast an amethyst glow on the twin faces above it, and a second stone, which looked like an ordinary flat, gray pebble. But Lacua handled them both with the ettin version of reverence.

  "Not lose talk stone," he chanted. "Not lose purple rock."

  "Not, not, not," Res chimed in.

  "Dead ettin, if."

  Both heads nodded sagely.

  The sound of sheep came now to the ettin, who shoved both stones back into his tunic. He scanned the darkness. Then, from behind a rise in the terrain, his four ears caught the sounds of barking and a shouted command. And more sheep sounds.

  "Baaa?" asked Res. "Baaaaaa?"

  "Baa food," Lacua answered knowingly.

  "Ah."

  The ettin eagerly moved toward shepherd and flock.

  Chapter 5

  The Triangle

  "Well? Did you steal his money, Kit?" Tanis demanded.

  "No," she replied with a glare at Caven Mackid. "I won it from him fair and square. And it's too late now, anyway. I spent it."

  "Fair?" Caven spat on the courtyard floor. The minstrels were playing loudly, but the arguing voices sounded over the music. "Ten steel she takes from me," he shouted. "She wins the money from me at faro. Then I catch her cheating and take it back."

  "At knifepoint," Kitiara insisted.

  Caven and Kitiara were nose to nose with each other, hands clenched, but they addressed their remarks to Tanis. Wode grinned from earlobe to earlobe at the building tension.

  "I didn't give it back to him willingly," Kitiara said. "I conceded no guilt; thus the money was still mine."

  Caven's face grew redder. "And then, when my back is turned, she goes through my things, steals the money back, and sneaks off like the lying cheat she is!"

  Tanis put a rough hand on Kitiara's shoulder. "Did you cheat the man at faro?"

  "I never cheat, at faro or any other card game," she said loftily. "I don't have to." When Tanis continued to gaze doubtfully at her, the swordswoman flushed and glared at the two men.

  The half-elf turned to Caven Mackid. "You've been tracking her for more than a month for only ten steel?"

  The swordsman was silent for a moment. "It's the principle of the thing," he said finally.

  In the quiet that followed, Tanis realized the minstrels had stopped playing. Four of the innkeeper's servants, dressed in sandals, breechcloths, and a mountain range of rippling muscles, were heading toward the quartet with disapproving faces.

  "We're leaving," Tanis called, and hauled a protesting Kitiara into the street. Wode slipped through the door just ahead of them. Caven looked as though he were considering making a stand, then he took stock of his reinforcements, found himself alone, and dogged the half-elf and Kitiara into the night. The inn's door guards stopped at the portal and folded their arms across their considerable chests.

  Solinari and Lunitari had vanished behind a blanket of clouds. Tanis glowered like a thundercloud himself as he faced Kitiara. "Pay him, Kit."

  "The money was mine."

  "Pay him!"

  "No!"

  Tanis's scowl grew deeper. "Then I will-just to get rid of him. Give me my half of the will-o'-the-wisp money." He put out his palm. Kitiara in turn placed a hand on her belt, where she'd hung the pouch with the captured money. At first surprised and then increasingly frantic, she checked around her.

  "Tanis! The pouch is gone! Why didn't we divide the money when we said we would?"

  Caven laughed. "She stole it, half-elf. Kitiara nicked you, too."

  "Drizzleneff Gatehop!" Kitiara exclaimed. "It was the kender. I know it!" She moaned. "And she's probably far from Haven by now, thanks to me. By the shadowless Abyss, we'll never catch her."

  Caven's smooth voice continued. "Take care, half-elf. Kitiara was probably going to run off with your money tonight anyway. No one turns his back on Kitiara Uth Matar."

  Suddenly Kitiara cried out. Even in the yellow light of the torches around the inn door, her face looked white. "By the gods, my pack! If that kender…" She twisted around to drop to the cobblestones the pack she'd insisted on carrying with her all day. Kitiara dug into the worn baggage, shoved something aside, then sighed. "Thank the gods."

  "Our money?" Tanis asked, throwing a triumphant look at Caven Mackid as Kitiara replaced the items in her pack.

  But Kitiara shook her head. "Something more valuable. The… things for Raistlin."

  "Ha!" Caven snickered. "She's got your money in there, half-elf. Let me check." He bustled toward Kitiara, reached for her pack-and found himself back-pedaling away from her new dagger.

  "You can't value your life much, Mackid," she drawled, "to try something like that."

  "She has your money, half-elf," Caven protested. "And mine, too, probably. Go ahead and look."

  Tanis put out a resolute hand. "Let me see, Kit."

  Kitiara gazed at Tanis for a long time, her expression unreadable. Caven whispered, "Don't let her snooker you, half-elf. She's lying."

  The swordswoman, still looking at Tanis, came to some decision. "I'll show you, half-elf." She told Caven over her shoulder, "But you can go to the Abyss, Mackid." Kitiara opened the top of the canvas pack and held the opening wide toward the half-elf. "Look inside," she urged.

  After some hesitation, Tanis placed a hand within the pack. His fingers touched clothes, crumbs of provisions left over from weeks on the road, and a small-bladed knife in a wooden case. No money pouch. He pulled his hand back. "Nothing," he said to Caven.

  "I told you," Kitiara said. She gathered up the pack and slung it over a shoulder.

  For a moment, Caven looked as though he thought Kitiara and Tanis might be in consort against him, but a glance at the half-elf seemed to change his mind. He kicked a booted toe against a cobblestone. "Ten steel," he muttered. "I follow the woman for a month for ten lousy steel, and she doesn't have the money anymore. And I have one steel left to my name." He looked up. His tone was suddenly hopeful. "How much money do you two have?"

  Tanis and Kitiara looked at each other. Kitiara seemed unperturbed by her fellow mercenary's mercurial change of mood. "I'm broke, Mackid. Give it up."

  "I have a few coins," the half-elf said. "Enough for supper and drink for Kitiara and me." He emphasized the latter words.

  "And I have one steel coin," Caven finished. "Let's find another tavern and discuss our situation over some ale."

  Tanis felt the lines of his face settle into hardness-what Flint Fireforge called his "infernal mulish elven look." "Our situation?" he repeated.

  Caven nodded. "The situation," he explained, "in which the two of you are going to find ten steel to replace the ones Kitiara stole or risk having me go to the Haven city guards, who will take you in custody for thievery."

  With a cry, Kitiara, dagger drawn, flung herself across the cobblestones at Caven. She narrowly missed impaling the big man before Tanis dragged her off. Wode's look of fascination had changed to one of utter glee. "Half-elf, let me go!" Kitiara shrieked. "I'll disembowel him and his scrawny squire both, I swear it! Mackid have me thrown in prison? It was my money, I tell you!"

  "It might take some time to prove that, Kit," Caven said, smiling gently. "Weeks, maybe months-if you can do it at all. How will you prove it from a Haven dungeon, my dear?"

  Kitiara stopped struggling to consider his words. The anger seemed to seep from her body into the stones at their feet. After a slight hesitation, Tanis released her. The swordswoman straightened her clothing and headed down the street away from the Masked Dragon. "Come on then, you two," she called back irritably.

  "Come on?" Caven repeated. He looked from Kitiara to the half-elf.

  "To an alehouse," she shouted. "To talk. You invited us for a drink, Caven, after all."


  Caven Mackid stood motionless, but Tanis, smiling despite himself, hastened to catch up with the swords-woman. Finally, after a short hike, Kitiara paused before a smoky den from which torchlight spilled. A hand-lettered sign, exuberantly misspelled, had been nailed above the door. It read "The Happee Ohgr" and was decorated with a drawing of an obviously drunken ogre. "This place looks appropriate for this type of discussion," Kitiara said and pushed down the steps into the crowded tavern. Tanis, shrugging, followed with Wode, and Caven brought up the rear.

  They found a table by evicting three torpid traders who were too drunk to protest. The barkeep didn't argue; clearly these new customers had more room for ale than did the sodden trio that now sat propped, forgotten and snoring, against a wall.

  Wode said nothing, but Tanis, Caven, and Kitiara had to shout over the din of arguments and occasional fistfights.

  "Where'd you get the money the kender stole?" Caven yelled, taking one swig of ale and then another. He now seemed inclined to believe Kitiara's tale about Drizzleneff Gatehop. The swordswoman, using gestures almost as much as shouted phrases, sketched out the details of the previous night's battle with the will-o'-the-wisp. Then Caven launched into ideas for the three of them to band together and make some real money. Grandiose ideas, Tanis thought with a yawn. But he listened politely, realizing that Kitiara took Caven more seriously.

  Both of them were getting drunk at a record pace, the half-elf realized. Wordless, Tanis considered his untouched tankard, then the pair of mercenaries.

  They made a formidable duo. Kitiara was slender but muscular, her dark hair especially curly in the unseasonable humidity, her eyes luminous with-what? The alcohol? Caven, with the massive, toned body of one who devotes much time to his body's care, dwarfed her and the half-elf. The two humans shared black hair, dark eyes, pale faces-and at the moment, a greedy look of eking whatever they could from their pathetically short human lives, at whatever cost.

  Caven waved to summon the barmaid, a plump, blonde teen-ager with pink skin and a bovine look. Wode, who must have been a year or two younger than the girl, sat up a little straighter, thrust out his thin chest, and gave her a leer. She appeared unimpressed. "Yah?" she asked Caven.

  "Another pitcher of ale."

  "Ya kin pay?"

  Caven glared at her. "Of course we can pay."

  "Show me th' money."

  When Caven bridled, the girl said, "Place like 'is, ya got yer travelers what guzzle but don' pay, yah? I never seed ya before. Y' dress nice, sure, but ya mighta stole yer duds. So ya show me th' money now, all righ'?"

  Caven slammed his last coin on the table. The girl, expressionless, picked up the money with a dirty hand and studied the coin. "Looks good," she said, pocketing it, picking up the pitcher, and turning away. Moments later, she returned and placed the filled pitcher before the four with a thump that slopped liquor onto the table. Wode rose and followed her back to the bar.

  "This place reminds me of the Sandy Viper in Kernen," Kitiara commented. "Smoke, sticky tables, and drunks in the corner."

  Caven snickered and refilled Kitiara's glass. "Re-

  member the night Lloiden threw the pitcher of beer into the fire?"

  The swordswoman chortled in response. "He thought he could prove they were watering the beer. He said watered beer would put the fire out," she explained to Tanis. "Instead, he practically burned the place down." When the half-elf failed to smile, Kitiara spoke instead to Caven. "Tanis isn't in a mood to be amused tonight, Mackid," she said with mock gravity.

  Abruptly Tanis got up. He joined Wode, who was now lounging at the bar, his lustful gaze following the barmaid, who studiously ignored him. "Ah, what a woman!" the lad said wistfully. He stuck a skinny hand toward Tanis. "Name's Wode. Caven's my uncle. My mum's his big sis. I'm 'is squire-have been for a year now." Tanis shook the proffered hand.

  The teen-ager pointed at Kitiara and Mackid, who were roaring with laughter and pounding each other's shoulders. "Might as well give up on 'em tonight, half-elf. I've seen 'em like this before. Once they get going on the ol' stories, they're set for the night, drinkin' and talkin'… At least they don't have much in the way of money, or they'd still be sitting there in the mornin'."

  "But Mackid threatened her with prison. Didn't he mean it?"

  Wode nodded with a wise air. "Oh, he meant it, all right. Maybe he don' remember it right now, 'course, bein' as he's been swilling ale like a pig. But he'll remember in the mornin'. And my guess is that she'll remember, too-in the mornin'. But that's the way the paid soldiers is, half-elf. Kinda changeable, like the breezes. Everythin's forgiven while they're in their cups. Least, Caven's that way. Captain Kitiara can get a bit snappish with more'n a couple under her belt."

  The barmaid swept by them without a word. Wode sniffed the scent of fried onions, spilled beer, and grilled beef that hovered in her wake. "Wonderful," he sighed.

  "She's not your type," Tanis advised him.

  "Eh?" Wode turned a bright green gaze full on the half-elf. Then he frowned as the barmaid swept by again, nose high in the air. "I suppose you're right." He sighed again.

  "How long have those two known each other?" Tanis indicated Kitiara and Caven.

  Wode mused. "There was two weeks for the siege, a month to get ready for it, plus another bunch of months of gadding about after the rout. Then Kitiara lit out on Caven, and Caven lit out after 'er. Ah, you shoulda seen him when he found out she'd nipped his coins!"

  Tanis tried to divert the lad into more fertile areas of information. "The rout?" Kitiara had let drop the information that she had been up in Kern-"soldiers for hire," as she put it. But she had been reticent on the subject of the campaign. This might be a chance to learn something.

  The boy sighed. "It was awful. Magefire burnin' from the sky, and people screamin' and dyin'. Then Kitiara comes runnin' up and grabs her horse from me and tries to take off, but Caven catches her and makes her wait for him, and the two of 'em head west outa Kern, and I follow, of course."

  "So Kitiara tried to leave him behind?" Tanis was glad of that news, at least.

  The youth assented. "But Caven's a stubborn one. He was set on goin' with her, 'specially as the Valdane is known for treating losin' troops sort of bad, if you catch my meanin'." He looked at Tanis, who raised his

  eyebrows questioningly. "Kills 'em. Or rather, has the mage do it. But, gads, he pays well when he does win, so the paid soldiers, being gamblin' types anyhow, are willin' to chance it." The lad sketched in what little he knew about Kern and the Valdane and his mage, Janusz. "Some say they've got a-" The boy paused and looked around-"a bloodlink." He winked and nodded significantly.

  If Wode was expecting a certain reaction from Tanis, however, he didn't get it. "A bloodlink?" the half-elf asked, not bothering to lower his voice.

  Wode shushed him with a panic-stricken look to each side. "Quiet, y' idiot! Don't they have 'em around here?" Tanis shook his head. " 'Course," the lad continued, "they're not supposed to have 'em at home, either. They've been illegal in Kern since my great-great-grandpa was a cub. But rumor has it the Valdane's father, the old Valdane, had a rogue mage who was willin' an' not afraid of what the Conclave of Wizards would do to 'im, so he went ahead and set one up with the Valdane-the current Valdane, that is; the one who was a boy then-and another boy who turned out to be Janusz, the current mage."

  Tanis's head was starting to spin, but he urged the boy on. "There was rumors all over Kern," Wode said, " 'specially when the Valdane's parents-that is, the parents of the current Valdane, who was a boy then-died right after the bloodlink-the one we think was set up-was set up. But it's death to talk about it in Kern, so don't repeat anythin' I said if you ever go there." He stopped for air.

  Tanis nodded, so thoroughly bewildered that he couldn't have repeated a word of what he had just heard. He sorted through the youth's jumbled sentences. "What's a bloodlink?" the half-elf managed to ask, remembering to lower his voice.

  Wode ma
naged to look self-important and surprised at the same time. "Where you been living, half-elf?" he finally choked out.

  "I grew up in Qualinesti," Tanis replied.

  Wode pursed his lips and nodded, as though that explained everything. "Ah. A rustic. Well, a bloodlink-which may or may not exist, now, y'understand, except everybody in Kern believes it does because-"

  Tanis interrupted. "What is it?"

  Wode cast him a reproachful look but, swelled with importance, went on. "They link two people, usually one of 'em a mage and the other one someone from the nobility. The lower one-usually the mage-takes the knocks for the highfalutin one." Wode nodded haughtily, then continued irritably when it became apparent that the half-elf still didn't comprehend. "All right, say you and I got a bloodlink-if there is such a thing, but I bet there is…"

  "All right," Tanis said a little dispiritedly, "say we have such a link."

  "Well, if I'm the one with the power, then anything bad that's supposed to happen to me happens to you."

  Tanis lifted one brow. Wode released a heavy sigh. "All right. Say a hobgoblin belts me in the gut with his mornin' star." The half-elf waited. "I ought to be practically dead, right? But you suffer the injury instead, and I get off without a scratch. Or so the story goes. There's some that says it's just a myth, but I think…"

  He continued to rattle on. No longer heeding the youth, Tanis leaned back against the bar. If Wode's blather was to be credited, a bloodlink with a mage would give a nobleman quite a powerful edge in the world, to say nothing of a considerable hold over the wizard. No wonder the Conclave of Wizards had banned such practices. Wode said this Janusz had been a boy when the bloodlink was set up. Assuming, of course, that the bloodlink even existed…

  Tanis shook his head; he was starting to think like Wode. The half-elf focused again on Kitiara and Caven. They were leaning confidentially on the table, starting their third pitcher of ale, talking furiously at each other. Neither appeared to be doing much in the way of listening.