Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “Looking for me?” I asked, reaching up to pull the turban free—taking care to keep hold of my tools still bundled in the sash.

  They watched my hair cloud as from all sides a small crowd of people emerged from the shuttered houses and stepped into the street to ring us. One of the searchers bowed to me, and said, “Will you join us, Honored One?”

  “Happy to,” I said. “Lead on.”

  The three silently closed ranks around me; the people who lived on the street withdrew into their houses, shutting doors and windows. No doubt watching from behind the shutters.

  Led by my new companions, I began a fast journey through the twisted, narrow streets of the inner town. I was soon hopelessly lost, and we moved too fast for me to try contacting Tir to find my position.

  Abruptly we halted at a nondescript house in the middle of a row of such. One of the men remained on guard outside the door as the other two led the way inside.

  We went up steep steps, and entered a small room with low furniture made with the same pleasing lines as that I’d seen in Rajanas’s palace, though this was much plainer. Two people waited quietly, a man and a woman. The man was young, the woman old. It was to the woman my guides turned.

  “Here is the Hrethan. She comes freely.”

  “Good.” The woman nodded, gestured to me. “We will have food brought, and drink.”

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  The woman smiled briefly. “We wait for nightfall. Then we go to Kuraf. She will answer your questions—and ask you some, I expect.”

  She stopped talking as someone brought in some steaming tea, and several plates of food.

  They tried to make me comfortable; I was never really sure whether I was a guest or a prisoner. Somehow I was never alone and couldn’t try that door. And Tir had flown out of range of my thought-reach.

  At nightfall we left again. Entering another house, we descended to a cellar. There, hidden cleverly in the brick, was a secret door. This opened onto a tunnel. Silently my guides led me into this, two before me and two following behind. While we walked in the utter darkness, I used the opportunity to tie my stash securely under my tunic, hoping it wouldn’t bulge when light found us again.

  When we emerged into the cool night air, I smelled rain on the way. We stood in a thick wood, and horses were brought. Still in silence, we mounted up and then rode for some time.

  I could see little of the path ahead. The darkness was not absolute but very near it. Still, we did not stop for quite a while, and that was only long enough for the lead rider to light a torch. By then the rain had begun, soft but steady. The cool, wet air woke up my tired mind, and excitement coursed through me. I tried hard to follow the sense of our path, but all I could see was the uneven red flicker of the hissing torch, and smoke streaming behind.

  Judging by my horse’s labors, we rode a distance upward into mountains, then at last descended a narrow path into a valley. Steep cliffs blocked the clouds on either side. The rain had lessened by the time we dismounted, and I was bade to climb.

  “Climb?” I repeated. The darkness was thick, and the torch had been put out.

  “This.”

  Rope, a rope-ladder, was put into my fingers.

  “Up,” the anonymous voice added.

  “Right.” Curious—and a bit afraid—I pulled my way rapidly up this rope-ladder, which went quite a distance. A breeze stirred about me as the ladder swayed, and my tail twitched instinctively.

  “Here,” someone said, and I stepped onto a wooden platform, moving inward as those who’d followed me up the ladder crowded behind.

  Then a spark was struck, a lamp lit, and I looked around in amazement at a series of platforms and ladders built into the branches of a mighty tree. Huge, broad leaves curtained the sides of the platforms; far above, the smaller platforms creaked and swayed in the wind. My toes spread and gripped, knowing their job by instinct, and my tail fretted at its confinement.

  I found myself surrounded by about a dozen people, all observing me with various degrees of interest.

  “Seem a bit like home?” one addressed me, a tall, strong-limbed woman with iron-gray braids bound closely about her head.

  Caught by surprise, I tried to speak, but nothing came forth.

  The woman laughed, a short, soft sound. “Never mind my rudeness, Hrethan. I’m Kuraf, and I never learned court manners. Come up, and welcome. We have much to discuss.” She stood aside and gestured to one of rope ladders. “What shall we call you?”

  She’s not asking for a real name. “Lhind,” I said anyway, scrambling up the ladder to yet another platform. This one had a low wall built round it, and furniture made it comfortable. “This is wonderful!” I exclaimed as Kuraf appeared behind me. “No wonder Hlanan said he had fun when he joined your gang.”

  Kuraf laughed again, and waved at one of the low pillowed chairs. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t, but in my experience you didn’t turn down free food just because you didn’t happen to need it right then. “What I am,” I said, “is confused beyond measure.”

  The leaves rustled, and a white shape swooped down and landed on the back of a nearby chair.

  “Tir!” I cried.

  “Lhind help, Lhind help,” Tir croaked, walking back and forth and studying us from one eye then the other.

  Kuraf studied the bird in return, her eyes narrowed. Finally she said, “I’m confused as well, I’ll confess.” She smiled. “Alezand spoke only a few words about you, but those were right curious. Add to that your not recognizing the style of this place, and add again the Scribe’s aidlar, who I’ll swear has never been far from him until this day. Let us essay this: I’ll ask you some questions, and then I’ll try to answer yours.”

  “But first tell me what that Rot-faced, what Rajanas—that is, what your, uh—”

  Kuraf burst out laughing, and this time it was real laughter. She clapped her hands on her knees and rocked back, strong white teeth gleaming in the lamplight as she crowed.

  “It’s also the first time I’d wished I was away from my homeland, and aboard his pleasure ship when you were taken, young Hrethan,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “Your rot-face is the rightful prince of Alezand, the land we sit in now. He owes allegiance to Aranu Crown, and one might say that it was on her business that he and his companions were of late employed.”

  “He did say Alezand was the land name and his title.”

  She snorted a quick laugh, then said, “If you make it to the capital, and I’ll talk with you about that anon, you’ll find that these nobles address one another by their various titles. There’s insults and praise to be found in how they use their many names, young one, or merely in a bow, and the rest of us might study years and not always catch every shade of meaning, or innuendo, they intend. Enough on that. Those of us oath-sworn to the land of Alezand use his title proudly, for he’s been a good ruler.”

  “All right,” I said when she paused expectantly.

  “As for his words on you: ‘And we spent some goodly time chasing a small rat of a lying thief at the Scribe’s behest,’ he told me. ‘And it was goodly time because our thief turns out to be Hrethan, lost to her kind, and possessed of considerable sorcery. Saved us from a pirate attack that we now suspect was instigated by Geric Lendan.’”

  “So Hlanan said. I don’t get that. Geric Lendan was with us on the yacht,” I said.

  “Did you see him fighting?” Kuraf returned.

  “N-no,” I said, thinking back. “That’s true. I didn’t. But I didn’t see that sniff-nosed Princess Kressanthe fighting, either. Several of those toffs on that yacht were hiding below, I think. I figured they didn’t know how to fight.”

  “Lendan knows how to fight,” Kuraf replied. “He has a reputation for dueling, and winning. I haven’t met him—though apparently I came mighty close today. And that’s what we need to talk about.” She shifted position, stretch
ing tiredly. “Nill! Some hot cider,” she shouted upward into the tree, then she looked back at me. “It’s been a long day, and looks to be a longer night. First, tell me what happened back there at the Residence. You did meet Prince Geric?”

  I nodded, unsure how much to tell about that meeting. Long experience made me decide to skip over the fact that I’d robbed him, and I said merely: “He came out of that magic-Destination room, he and some warriors. They went into the other part of the palace and he blocked me off from the door and introduced himself. He ordered cider with liref, but drank the wrong cup.”

  “Just drank it, eh?” Kuraf snorted a laugh.

  “After I switched ’em,” I admitted. But she didn’t look surprised. “Anyway Tir told me to run so I hopped out the window, tried to disguise myself, and Tir led me to your searchers.” I pointed at the aidlar.

  Kuraf smiled ironically. “That disguise didn’t last long: by now, I imagine, it’s all over the city how the silver-haired Hrethan dropped out of the sky. You’d have done better to have kept that hair covered.” She shrugged and rubbed her neck. “Ah well. What’s past is past—” She paused as feet appeared on the ladder overhead.

  A thin boy not much taller than I descended rapidly, carrying a bottle and carved wooden mugs. He set these down, gave me a brief, curious look and a grin, then he scrambled back up the ladder again.

  “My grandson Nill,” Kuraf said, jerking her thumb upward. “Apparently you met my daughter this morning. In the Guard. Granddaughter, Kee, you’ll meet anon.”

  I remembered the friendly young woman who’d helped me onto the horse when we first entered the city. It seemed a week ago.

  Kuraf poured out gently steaming pear cider into the cups, pushed one toward me, then said: “You want to know what’s toward. Here’s the simple version.” She paused to drink. “Lendan has taken Alezand. At least, he’s got us while he holds his highness as hostage. We dare do nothing against him.”

  “Hlanan said something about you holding the city and Rajanas riding away. That was before he disappeared. The apple cider that they’d been drinking was full of liref,” I added. “I gather that this two-faced Steward Kenned did that.”

  Kuraf pursed her lips. “Might have saved their lives, actually. I wonder if that’s what he intended all along?”

  “What? You mean, Kenned didn’t sell them out?”

  “He did indeed. But . . .” She frowned, staring into her cup. Then she blinked and shook her head. “Perhaps he’ll have his chance to explain himself, in time. The matter at hand is more important: Lendan came himself to supervise. We need to figure out why.”

  Surprised, I said, “But isn’t it obvious? I mean, if you are going to throw someone out of his home and take it over, it seems only practical to oversee it yourself.”

  “Maybe in the world of thieves. Not in the world of nobles and their games. Lendan is a kind of cousin to our prince. He would much prefer to appear to watching powers to be rescuing the situation, and holding it for his absent cousin—or dead cousin—after everything is settled.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “Then let me put it more simply. Those mercenaries in the gray tunics with the hoods are the Wolf Grays of Thann, who some say were contracted by the King of Liacz—who has plenty of warriors of his own, though he is currently overreached—and the more disturbing rumor is that the contract was actually paid by Emperor Jardis Dhes-Andis of Sveran Djur.”

  “Isn’t Sveran Djur a huge island somewhere in the western seas? Why would he want a bunch of soldiers here, paid or not?”

  “Everyone knows he has designs on the fertile valleys between the mountains. Eventually he might even wish to challenge the empire, who knows? Back to our situation. They attack, and capture his highness, and hold Alezand. Lendan would then ride in leading a force wearing his colors, “defeat” them, and “hold” the land for his absent cousin. His friends at court know that he is in some wise allied with Dhes-Andis; his enemies at court also know that, but as he’s here under a semblance of legality, they can do nothing overt without causing a war, unless his highness appears and asks for help. Apparently Lendan made a public show of friendliness and kinship while on the yacht. To all appearances, he is Alezand’s ally.”

  “That makes sense so far,” I said. “So why should it matter that Geric came early? Nobody but his toadies saw him—” I stopped.

  “Except you,” she said wryly. “And you got away.”

  “Oh,” I said, remembering those two parties of searchers. I took a big swig of pear cider. It was delicious, with a touch of honey and ginger root.

  “Then,” she said, “there’s the matter of what brought Prince Geric here early.”

  I remembered his words: You must find the thief, kill him, and bring me whatever he carried . . .

  “Oh,” I said again, choking on my cider. I set my cup down and blinked my watering eyes, to find Kuraf’s shrewd gaze on me.

  “And now we come to you,” she said.

  12

  “Ah?” I croaked, wondering if she intended to kill me outright, or have me searched and then killed.

  I sidled glances to either side, assessing my chances for escape as she leaned forward to tap one of her scarred hands on my knee.

  “You have got to go directly to the capital and report to the Empress what has happened,” Kuraf said calmly. “You have magic to aid you, you know the situation, and being Hrethan, you will even be granted an audience whereas none of us would ever pass the gate. Then, once you are there, you can be put in the way of finding your own folk. I know the Snow Folk do maintain an embassy in Erev-Li-Erval.”

  Sheer relief made me dizzier than twelve glasses of fermented cider could have. “Capital? Right. Most certainly,” I said hastily, the stash under my tunic weighing against my flesh.

  Kuraf gazed at me with her brows slightly raised and her mouth quirked. Instead of saying anything directly to me, though, she tipped her head back. “Kee!” she shouted.

  “Right here,” a young voice answered from just beyond the foliage overhead. “Heard everything.”

  “Good. Saves us some time,” Kuraf said. And to me, “She’ll see you safely there.”

  A rustling sounded overhead, then a figure swung down by a small branch, and—disdaining the ladder—dropped lightly in front of me.

  I looked up, and found myself being surveyed critically by a pair of keen gray eyes under a crown of heavy pale blond braids. Kee was sturdily built, not yet fully grown. She had the rounded cheeks of a child, but those eyes were just like her grandmother’s. As they studied me from scalp to toenails, their expression did not say Magic Person, but Thief.

  Trying to remember what was proper, I said, “Well met.”

  “Well met,” Kee replied politely, holding out her hand for a clasp. Her grip was strong, her palm callused.

  “Show Lhind a bunk, see that she has what she needs, then you get some sleep. We will talk further in the morning, before you depart.”

  “This way,” Kee said, waving toward the ladder.

  She went before me, at a smart pace. I had to scramble fast to keep up —but keep up I did, even when she took off from a platform and scampered down a narrow branch to a smaller platform. I paused only to whip my tail free, and I followed easily, my balance as sure as if I’d been born running in trees.

  The platform she led me to had three hammocks suspended from high branches, and three trunks lined one edge. The whole was lit by a lamp swinging high above the top hammock.

  “Want some sleeping gear?” Kee asked.

  “No. I sleep in my clothes,” I said. “You’re always ready to move that way.”

  She grunted, head cocked to one side consideringly. “True. Well, we’ll do that on the road. Faster.”

  She flung her tunic off and pulled a long nightgown from one of the trunks, then she pulled herself into the highest bunk. Pausing to look over the side at me, she said, “Either of those is free tonight
.”

  “Right,” I said, catching hold of the bottom hammock. Before I could get into it, she blew the lamp out, and darkness closed on us.

  I felt my way carefully into the hammock, feeling nervously aware of the platform’s edge somewhere nearby. Once I was lying flat, though, with my stash arranged safely across my stomach, the hammock swung gently, and I stared up through the thick leaves toward the moon-silvered clouds sailing silently overhead. I had just enough time to register how peaceful it all was, then I fell heavily asleep.

  I woke only once, when rain whispered through the leaves overhead. Somehow none fell on my face, and the soft sound put me right back to sleep.

  When I woke up next, cool green light bathed the platform. I breathed deeply of the leaf-scented air, and swung out of the hammock onto my feet. I’d slept well, and felt more refreshed than I had in recent memory. Refreshed and even cheerful. Must be something about sleeping in trees, like the birds.

  Don’t you think so? I sent the thought toward Tir—but I did not find the bird’s mental presence.

  “Tir?” I said out loud, wondering if it was still asleep.

  No answer.

  “You awake?” Kee’s head popped up from the other side of the platform. “Food’s ready. Let’s get going.” Kee disappeared.

  “Coming,” I called, hastily looking around.

  No one in view. I yanked up my tunic and untied my sash. My idea was to rearrange it more securely, until I could snag some better clothes for hiding things in.

  But my gaze was caught by Princess Kressanthe’s diamond necklace lying there in the jumble of tools, coins, and rings. I hadn’t really looked at the thing since I’d pinched it. I stood staring at it now, a sense of vertigo tugging at my vision. I found it difficult to look away from the winking lights in the faceted stones. The longer I stared, the more distinct became the gut-curling sense of warning inside me.

  I wrenched my gaze free by squeezing my eyes shut. I folded the sash, to hide them, the stones clicking against that bone carving with a sound like ice crunching against teeth.