by Mel Odom
“He eventually earns the enmity of the very people he wanted to protect,” Brant finished. He smiled delightedly. “For an artist of no mean skills, you are a very astute person.”
Wick blushed modestly, then realized how out of place that was seated in a room with people who would very likely kill him before morning if they decided they couldn’t trust him.
“What, then,” Brant asked, “is the other course?”
“To embrace the criminal element,” Wick answered immediately. Although when he’d first started reading on the subject, he’d felt greatly confused. Grandmagister Ludaan had sat with him one afternoon and explained everything Hagladen had laid out. “At this point, the ruler must search for a man who is strong enough to take and hold the criminal element, who is willing to risk his own life, to hold the criminals to an accountable code of thievery.”
“Fascinating,” Brant said. He glanced around at the others as if proud of himself. “And what would that code be?”
“The ruler and the master thief,” Wick said, “have to come to terms about who is to be robbed, in what manner, and what areas are off-limits. Those terms can be renegotiated at any time. In recompense, the master thief is given control of several legitimate businesses—”
“Such as warehouses and taverns along the docks,” Brant said.
“So that the legitimate earnings will tide the master thief over during periods of the ruler’s active efforts against these crimes must take place to soothe the citizens and allay their fears.” Wick puffed on his pipe.
“And what does the ruler get out of this?” Brant asked.
“A-to a degree—controllable criminal element,” Wick said. “As well as a percentage of criminal profits to shore up the treasury when new roads must be built and when the ruler has to appear magnanimous to his or her people.”
“Splendid!” Brant said. “And the foremost job of any Thieves Guild is to—?”
“To keep out other thieves who don’t obey the code or who take too much from the criminal profits.”
“Exactly,” Brant said. “Which would be us at this time.” He relit his pipe. “You surprise me with your knowledge. Maybe you can read as you claim you can.”
For a moment, there was silence in the room, then all the thieves laughed at the very notion.
Wick’s face burned, but he said nothing.
“In these last few weeks,” Brant said, “we’ve drawn the attention of not only the Thieves’ Guild, but also of Orpho Kadar. Either of those would be dangerous. Together, venturing any longer in Hanged Elf’s Point is decidedly foolhardy.”
“Yet that is what you are hoping to do,” Wick said.
“Precisely. I’ll be right back.” Brant got to his feet and left the room. He returned momentarily carrying a purple velvet bag. “We discovered this among the goods of one of our heists. While we’ve been in Hanged Elf’s Point, we’ve targeted, isolated, and robbed various members of trading guilds within the city. No one really too big, and only those who would be worth the risk involved. We’ve been quite successful. But this bag,” he shook it for emphasis and clacking echoed over the room, “was well hidden by one of Orpho Kadar’s favorite goblinkin tradesmen. The man has been in Hanged Elf’s Point almost as long as Orpho himself.” He paused, shaking the bag. “Would you like to see what’s in here?”
Wick regarded the bag with trepidation and curiosity. True to his dweller nature, any possible container not directly open to his sight intrigued him. But at the same time, if he couldn’t make any sense of what was in the bag, he knew Cobner would deal mercilessly with him.
“Yes,” the little librarian answered.
Without hesitation, Brant poured the contents of the bag into his hand.
16
The Mystery of the Keldian Mosaic
At first, Wick thought the bag in Brant’s hand only contained jewels and he didn’t know what had been so confusing to the man. They spilled out in a cavalcade of shiny, bright colors: emeralds, sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and amethysts.
It was, the little librarian knew, a small fortune in its own right.
“Do you see?” Brant asked quietly.
At first, Wick didn’t. His inability to do so scared him. For a moment, all the little librarian could see was Cobner’s malicious grin. Then his eyes, sharp little dweller eyes that never lost their allure for anything that sparkled and shined, saw what Brant had to be referring to.
“The gems fit together,” Wick breathed raptly. Before he knew it, his hand was out, reaching for the pile that lay gleaming in Brant’s palm.
“Yes,” Brant said. “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s Keldian,” Wick said.
His reply made Brant a little nervous. The man drew the handful of jewels back. “What is Keldian?”
“Those jewels,” Wick exclaimed excitedly. He pushed himself up and walked over to Brant. “They fit together to make a mosaic, a picture.”
“A picture of what?”
“I don’t know,” Wick answered truthfully. “Whatever this particularly Keldian felt was important.”
“I’ve never heard of Keldians,” Brant said.
“Neither have I,” Sonne agreed, coming closer herself. Bright interest shone in her eyes.
“If you ask me,” Cobner said, “I think he’s making up what he’s saying on the spot to keep from getting whomped.”
“No,” Wick insisted. “The fact that you haven’t heard of the Keldians only attests to how old this thing is that you found.” He hesitated, almost not daring to ask his next question. Except that he had to. “Are you sure you have all of it?”
“I don’t know,” Brant answered. “We took all that was there.”
“If you have all of it,” Wick said, “you can’t possibly imagine how much such a thing is worth.”
“How much do you think?” Brant asked. “In gold pieces?”
Wick looked at the man and blinked in astonishment. “In gold pieces?”
“Yes. A nice, round, tidy figure will do quite nicely,” Brant said. “Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t hold you to that figure. It really depends on whether you’re desperate or the buyer is desperate when you try to sell something like this. Sometimes you can get more if you sell it, and sometimes you can get more when you break it up.”
“Sell it?” Wick exclaimed, unable to believe his poor savaged ears that throbbed painfully in his excitement. “Break it up?” He stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “You can’t do that!”
Brant frowned a little. “I think you’re getting overly interested in these gems, little artist. These belong to us. Not you.”
“They could be part of an important Keldian historical find,” Wick said.
“History,” Brant declared, “was yesterday. I’m not interested in yesterdays. Only how much I might be able to sell these for on some tomorrow.”
“Please,” Wick pleaded. “I would like very much to see these.”
Brant hesitated. “And after seeing your reaction, I can see that you do. However, now I find myself not overly enthusiastic about letting you see them. I had thought with your artist’s eye you might see something in these gems that I hadn’t. With it so apparently true, I’ll admit that I am somewhat discomfited.”
Wick stood his ground, trembling slightly in his eagerness. He had read about the Keldian mosaics in the Library, but none of them had been shipped there that had been found so far. Of course, there were still numerous rooms to go through at the Vault. He breathed out and tried to be calm. “You brought me here to look at those gems,” he stated plainly as he could. “You would be remiss in your risk if you didn’t let me do it.”
“How do you know about these … these Keldian mosaics?” Brant asked.
“I read about them,” Wick answered.
No one laughed this time.
“Maybe I can put it together,” the little librarian said. “At least let me try. If I can, then you’ll better know w
hat it is that you have.” He couldn’t bring himself to say sell.
“I will have someone watching you the whole time,” Brant warned.
“That’s fine.” Wick held out his hands and felt the cool, delicious weight of the stones as Brant poured them into his palms. They were small, barely the size of his littlest fingernail. Human hands or dwarven hands would be hard-pressed to handle them properly to see to the fittings. “I’ll need a table to work on. A good lantern. And maybe some jeweler’s tools if some of the fittings have been damaged.”
“To the dining room, then,” Lago said. “It has the biggest table in the house.”
Wick walked carefully as he followed the old dwarf. His fear of his newfound associates melted away as he faced the mystery and possibilities he held in his hands. They needed him, true, but even greater than their need was his to find out what mystery the Keldian mosaic hid.
“The Keldian elves,” Wick said as he nudged a small ruby into place next to the last one he had fitted, “lived far east of Dream. Or, rather, Hanged Elf’s Point as you know it. So I don’t know what one was doing there.”
Brant, Sonne, Lago, Cobner, Hamual, and the other thieves sat around the dining table as the little librarian worked.
“But then again,” Wick went on, thinking out loud, “these gems might not have belonged to a Keldian elf. They may have belonged to someone who’d ordered a mosaic made.”
“And if it didn’t belong to a Keldian elf?” Sonne asked.
“Then it’s still an important find,” Wick said, wanting them to be very clear about that.
“But if it did belong to a Keldian elf?” Brant pressed.
“Then it will be even more important.” Wick sifted through the rubies and didn’t find one the proper shape to fit to the last one he’d slipped into place. A change if color then? He started trying amethysts. Already his back and shoulders ached from the work he’d done. It was nearly morning. For the first few hours, the thieves hadn’t talked at all, carefully watching what he was doing and not wanting to break his concentration. Please let all the pieces be here. The intrigue was killing him.
“Why?” Hamual asked.
“Because each master craftsman created his life’s work, a piece that revealed something of great value to whomever was able to ferret it out.”
“You’re talking about treasure, aren’t you?” Brant asked.
“I don’t know,” Wick said. “Sometimes the Keldian elves created mosaics that told their life stories.”
“Oh,” Brant said sarcastically, “and wouldn’t that just be delightful? Long-dead Keldian elves probably have the best stories to tell.”
“I think it would be delightful,” Wick said honestly. “You wouldn’t believe how much is unknown and speculated about regarding the Keldian elves. They were master craftsmen who worked for kings and queens throughout the world, but only if they chose to.”
“And quite possibly,” Brant said, “you couldn’t even begin to comprehend how little I care. I don’t know any Keldian elves, so they have no secrets that would interest me. Only the living have the best secrets to know, little artist. Especially if they want to keep those secrets hidden from others. They often pay handsomely for that.”
Wick ignored the comment and played to his own mounting excitement. The seventeenth amethyst he tried that looked like it might fit slid smoothly into place. He reached for the amethysts again, certain that the next piece he was looking for was there.
“That’s a skull,” Sonne said, leaning over Wick’s shoulder late the next afternoon.
Eyes burning, shoulders aching, Wick looked at the small skull made up of twelve amethysts and two dark sapphires that represented the eyesockets. The skull sat by itself on the table. “Yes.”
Sonne placed a fresh mug of huckleberry tea on the table beside him.
“Thank you,” he said as he searched for the next piece of the mosaic.
“Do you know what it is yet?” Sonne asked, taking a seat beside him.
“No,” Wick admitted, and his impatience to know pushed at him incessantly. He’d gotten stumped a few times, so had searched out new stones and begun pieces again. At the moment, he had five different pieces of the mosaic going. Instead of coming faster, the gems seemed to fit into place even more slowly. “I don’t even know if it’s all here.”
“Have you told that to Brant?”
“No.” Wick grimaced. “I shouldn’t have told you.” He wiped perspiration from his face. He looked at the young girl hopefully. “Please don’t let him make me stop until I find out if I can do this. I need to finish this, Sonne. Really I do.” He searched for words to explain how he felt but none came easily. These people were thieves, not Librarians entrusted with keeping back the dark ignorance of the world that Lord Kharrion had tried to unleash.
“I know,” she said. “Brant knows, too.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what drives you, halfer, and I don’t know how many of the stories you tell are true, but I know that you will finish this-if it can be done.”
“I will,” Wick promised. And he could almost hear Grandmagister Frollo in his head, telling him that he was working far above his abilities as a Third Level Librarian, that he was doomed to failure. I am more than a Third Level Librarian, Wick thought forcefully.
“But Hamual and Karick saw goblin soldiers scouting the foothills this morning. Luckily, they skirted past the game trail that leads to this place and never saw Hamual and Karick.”
“What are the goblinkin doing up here?” Wick sorted through the emeralds, searching for one that would fit the stone he was working on now. He knew from overhearing conversations between the thieves that the goblinkin laxly patrolled the main trade roads in and out of Hanged Elf’s Point.
“Searching for us,” Sonne replied. “What else could it be?”
Wick didn’t know and couldn’t even hazard a guess. He took a sip of huckleberry tea and refocused on his work. The emerald he picked up didn’t work. Neither did the next ten. He sighed in exasperation.
“You should get some rest, halfer. We have extra beds in the house. Sleeping in the saddle the way you did yesterday did you no good at all.”
“I know,” Wick replied. “Just let me work a little while longer.” He wasn’t even aware of when Sonne left the room.
Wick woke with a start, hearing voices. He blinked his eyes open and discovered he was on one of the couches in the log house’s main room, though he had no idea of how he had gotten there. The room was dark and the fire in the fireplace had burned low. He guessed that it was probably early morning. A heavy blanket covered him and a slight chill lay over the room.
Nightmares of Lord Kharrion and the battles Wick had read about had filled the little librarian’s mind while he’d unwittingly slept. He was so fatigued that he hadn’t even known he’d been dreaming till he woke. And he really wasn’t sure that he wasn’t dreaming now.
“The goblinkin patrol is camped only a few hours from here,” Brant was saying. “I don’t know how much longer we can hole up even here.”
“We’d be better off if we could just pick up and go,” Cobner growled. “If we wait too long, the goblinkin will cut off the Trade Roads and the North Road. We won’t have any other choice except to cut through the Forest of Fangs and Shadows and strike out for the halfer villages at Blackgate Cove, and there’s nothing to say that those really exist.”
“So do we stay or go?” Brant asked.
Wick listened to the silence for a moment, his heart beating in his chest as he drifted in and out of sleep. Over the past few days of working so diligently at the puzzle, he’d talked with most of the thieves. Brant gave them all voice in what they were about to do, but when it came down to it, the master thief made the decisions for the group. He treated them like family, and from the things Hamual and Sonne said while they were visiting, the little librarian knew they all owed some part of their lives to Brant. Despite his gruff manner, he cared deeply for his people and the
y all knew it, but he would never allow his leadership to be questioned.
“I say we stay,” Sonne said. “One more day. The little halfer has worked at this harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. He’s earned that much.”
“Enough to risk our necks?” Cobner protested. “We don’t owe him anything. He’s nothing to us. In fact, it could well be that his disappearance from Hanged Elf’s Point is what renewed the goblinkin’s interest in finding us.”
“No,” Brant said. “Wick was bound for the arena. If he’d stayed there, he’d be dead today. And he is something to us. I bought him, and I’ll not see him so readily abandoned just because his presence causes a bit of a hardship on us.”
“We’re not talking about a hardship here,” Cobner argued. “We’re talking about getting outright killed by the goblinkin or Fohmyn Mhout’s dratted Purple Cloaks. They’ve been searching for us since we took those blasted gems.”
“Cobner,” Brant spoke sharply. “There’s not been a person added to this group who’s not caused a bit of a hardship at the time. Even yourself.”
Silence filled the room for a time.
“Is that what you’re talking about?” Cobner asked. “Adding that little halfer to our group?”
“He doesn’t fit in with the other dwellers we’ve seen from these countries,” Brant said. “We know that from the time that Hamual and Karick observed the slave pens and the work crews the little artist was assigned to.”
Wick was surprised that he’d been watched and had had no clue. Of course, at the time he’d been concerned with how things were going between himself and the other dwellers. And with just simply surviving.
“We could let him go,” Cobner said.
“And since when has that been our way?” Lago demanded.
“The little fellow wouldn’t make it in the wild,” Hamual said quietly. “I’ve watched him the night before. He’s not used to being outside. Wherever he’s from, he’s lived a sheltered life.”