by CJ Brightley
Kee said quickly, “You can come with me, Lhind, and welcome. I think we make a good team.”
I plunged my hands into my trousers and came up with my bag of burglar’s tools. Flinging out a fistful of the jewels and coins I’d accumulated since this adventure had begun, I said challengingly, “Think that will get us passage on some ship?”
Kee gasped. Hlanan gazed at the profusion of treasure gleaming and winking in the ruddy firelight, his brows raised. “We could travel like kings,” he said. “With your permission, I’ll take this and see what I can arrange.”
“Hasn’t that stenchiferous wight Geric Lendan put out a description of you for his nosers?” I asked.
Hlanan smiled a little. “I’ll avoid them. This grandmother of a storm will help hide me. And I happen to know Fara Bay fairly well, much better than Lendan and his friends, I’ve no doubt.”
“If the searchers find this place—” Kee started.
“We’ll find a new hole.” I turned my thumb out. “And Tir will lead Hlanan to us.”
“I haven’t seen Tir,” Hlanan said, his even voice betraying worry.
I listened inwardly, and located the bird. “Tir’s fine. Hiding under the roof.”
Hlanan gave me another of those odd, puzzled looks, then swept the jewels and coins up with one hand. He thrust them into the pocket in his filthy trousers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, and departed.
I lay flat again, heaving a huge sigh. “I feel as if that house—and maybe a mountain or two—fell on me.”
“Drink some more Mist-leaf,” Kee urged. “It will help.”
I sat up just enough to drink off the tea in my cup and reach for more. The freezing lassitude had faded, leaving aches in every part of my body, particularly my head. With Hlanan gone, the sense of hurt eased. As I considered what I’d done, the spell for the fire-magic echoed. I knew I’d never forget it. The thought of calling it again made me shiver and clutch Kee’s cloak closer about me.
I did it. I really controlled it. Who says I can’t learn magic? On impulse, I reached: Faryana?
No answer.
I touched the diamonds, and tried again. Still no answer.
That was peculiar, and I felt uncertain, as if I’d been abandoned. A pang of irritation replaced the uncertainty when I remembered what she’d said when I’d asked for help. So she was ignoring me because I got my help elsewhere? Well, let her sulk.
Stealing a peek at Kee, I pulled the whistle from the sash. Kee was sitting over her tea, her eyes focused worlds beyond her cup.
Hiding the whistle in my palm, I pressed it up against my head.
You there? I asked. Outside, thunder smashed, shaking the building.
I am here. Well done, my young apprentice, the voice came, smooth and vast. I sensed silent laughter beneath the words. Why are you hiding? Geric Lendan cannot stand against your will now. You can walk the streets and fire anyone who attempts to molest you.
I could, I acknowledged, and pride warmed me inside. I remembered the exaltation I’d felt while riding high on that magic wind, sending lightning to strike anywhere I wished.
Strike anywhere, but not anyone, I thought. Never again.
Show me. I could feel Dhes-Andis reaching into my mind to find the memory, but instinctively I flicked down the inner door almost all the way, leaving only enough room for word communication.
Some other time. And I’m not ready to do that magic again real soon anyway.
The sense of vast darkness withdrew behind its own inner door, but tendrils swirled and misted around the voice as it said: Giving in to weakness? I am surprised.
You wouldn’t be if you felt like I do right now, I snapped back indignantly.
Laughter streamed toward me, bright and caustic. I will teach you how to avoid the effects.
How’ll you do that?
Come to Sveran Djur, was the reply.
No thanks, I retorted. I’ve heard plenty about that place, and none of it good. Also, I have a—an errand to see to first.
My city is beautiful, beyond beautiful. For what is the use of great power when one cannot commandeer the most beautiful things in the world?
He offered memories, this time beckoning me within his inward door, and though curiosity was nearly overwhelming, for my love of beautiful things was strong, I managed to resist. He might not be telling me the truth, only what I wanted to hear. I’d used that tactic enough in trying to escape tight situations.
His voice was once again amused when he thought, What errand is so urgent?
I hesitated on the verge of unloading the whole tale. Why should I? It wasn’t as if I was safe here. What if Geric did manage to get the whistle back from me, and he wrested the story from the trapped sorcerer? And yet . . . and yet.
You don’t need to know, I said importantly.
The voice laughed again. I am impatient to meet you.
But wait. Why Sveran Djur? Is that the only place you can be freed from this whistle?
No answer. The voice had disappeared, leaving only the low mutter of distant thunder.
16
“I think you’ll enjoy this masquerade,” Hlanan said by way of greeting when he reappeared. He shook the raindrops off his face and hair, adding, “At least the storm has abated somewhat, though the streets are ankle-deep in muck. Hurry and change. The ship will depart just before dawn on the outgoing tide.”
He pitched wads of cloth at each of us. I sat up cautiously, glad to find that my headache had diminished. Kee yawned, poking curiously at her share.
“Use the last of our water to get the soot off your face, Kee,” Hlanan said with a smile. “Lhind, you’re probably better off as you are. Luckily there are a lot of other soot-smeared servants down at the docks clamoring for passage for their master or mistress who wants to get out of the harbor today. So the soot will contribute to your disguise.”
“We’re going to be disguised?” Kee held up a splendid gown.
“You are now a noble scion—Lady Kieran of North Chur in Keprima—and her faithful lackey. That’s you, Lhind. Faithful lackeys don’t have names, at least on ship’s rolls. And tutor, at your service,” Hlanan said, bowing. “If we can get across the docks, we’ve berths awaiting us. But we’ve only got a short time. Dress up.”
“Me? A servant?” I asked, delighted. “This will be fun! As long as I don’t have to do any work.” I shot Kee a warning glare.
Kee snorted, shaking out her dress. We changed hastily, me—with a groan of disgust—stuffing my poor tail into the shapeless mud-colored trousers Hlanan had procured. The tunic was a better fit, large and roomy. It had a hood, and Hlanan had also bought a plain cap. My hair fit under all that. The only thing I ignored were the shoes.
Or tried to ignore.
“Put those on,” Hlanan said, pointing to the shoes.
“Flames of Rue,” I exclaimed. “I can’t bear shoes. They are hot, they pinch unmercifully, they slip and slide at the worst times—”
“You won’t be climbing any roofs or fences. Put them on.”
“But they hurt the sides of my feet, and did you hear when I said they are hot? Make my toes itch.”
“And bare feet on a supposed servant will flag Lendan’s scouts for certain. They know you’re a Hrethan, and Lendan will have told them that the Hrethan almost never wear shoes.”
“Oh.” This discovery of a Hrethan habit that matched mine made me feel peculiar. Wincing and grumbling, I eased my feet into the soft cloth shoes that Hlanan had brought. At least they were not stiff, but I still loathed the sensation.
Kee watched me take a few gingerly steps, then grinned. “You’ll catch notice for certain if you walk like someone put slugs in ’em.”
I stomped in a circle. “Is that more convincing?”
“Let’s go, you two,” Hlanan murmured, obviously trying not to laugh.
Kee whirled around, fluffing out her gown. It was a high-waisted affair sporting lots of lace at the neck and sle
eves, and with her long pale hair unbraided and hanging down in fine, somewhat stringy locks, she looked like a different person.
When she saw me looking, she said in an undervoice, “Until today I was proud of the fact that I have never told a lie. Now I am about to be living one. I do not know what to think.”
There was this urge to say, Now you know what it feels like, except I’d hated it when Faryana acted so morally superior to me from the inside of the necklace.
I fell in step behind her, carrying the pack like a good servant. Hlanan had found himself some nondescript clothes, and the gray open robe of a low-level scribe, but he didn’t look all that different from usual.
Catching my eye, he said: “I’ll go to the ship by a different route. Tir knows where it is. Stay with the aidlar.”
“I can get us there,” I began.
“Not over roofs. Not in this dress,” Kee warned.
“And they’ll be looking on the rooftops,” Hlanan added. “We’ve got darkness on our side, and the aidlar. Let’s move quickly.” He paused to inspect us. “And in case we don’t see each other until we’re on the ship, Lhind, when you reach the docks you stay a pace or two behind Kee at all times. Don’t speak unless spoken to. You’re sleeping in her cabin, so don’t take the gear to the hold where the lackeys go. Kee, walk like a lady, not like a ranger.”
“But I am a ranger,” Kee protested.
“You’re a lady right now,” Hlanan said, his lips twitching. “Little steps, minding your gown.”
“I’ve never worn a gown.”
“They wear them in Keprima, where you are now from, and noblemen wear robes. Little steps, and hide those hands. Nobles usually don’t have bow calluses.”
Kee tucked her skirts up so they wouldn’t drag through the mire of the streets and we left.
The walk was not far, and Lendan’s hired prowlers were apparently watching the roads out of the harbor. Twice we encountered foursomes of those warriors in gray. They studied Kee with intensity, but when they saw her hanks of yellow hair, already tangling, they dismissed her. They paid scarce heed to her burdened, shuffling servitor who fumbled along as if his shoes were too tight.
More than one ship was preparing to sail on the tide, and the docks were busy. Just as Hlanan had said, a lot of people wanted to get away.
Following the soaring, wheeling aidlar, we made our way past ships of every description until we came to a big, high-built caravel that had been given a pier, so we did not have to hire a boat to take us out into the bay. The aidlar flapped down and sat on the rail of the caravel.
Kee’s shoulders relaxed as we walked up the ramp. I was so delighted I wanted to dance a little, but I remembered that I was a servant, so I dropped back and adopted what I hoped was a suitable demeanor. Kee stuck her nose in the air and announced to the waiting steward that she was Lady Kieran of North Chur Castle in Keprima.
“Any luggage?” the steward asked, bored.
Kee sent me a wild look. I was already carrying our bags, but clearly noble ladies had much more.
“Coming,” I said, with downcast eyes.
“My lackey is in charge of that,” Kee said grandly.
“All the way forward, starboard cabin,” the steward said.
Kee nodded, her eyes bulging slightly as she looked at me. She obviously had no idea what they meant. I said quickly, “Shall I inspect, your ladyship?”
“Do that,” Kee said, her voice strained; it was clear that she was rapidly reaching the end of her invention skills.
I took over, confident I knew the way. This ship was as different from Rajanas’s sleek yacht as one could imagine, but I figured the basic directions on any ship are the same. I’d heard about fore, aft, starboard, and lee while eavesdropping on Rajanas’s sailors.
I led the way down to the first deck below, where the passenger cabins lined the sides of the ship, the best one of course aft all along the stern. We walked forward (Kee whispering “Forward. Starboard,” to herself) and reached the last cabin on the right before the forepeak.
The little cabin was empty, the bulkheads curving inward over the single bunk. As soon as the door was closed Kee collapsed onto the bunk with a sigh of relief. “I didn’t expect questions,” she muttered. “I really hate lying.”
“Think of it as playacting.”
She gave me a considering look. “Is that what you’ve spent your life doing?”
I grabbed my cap and pulled it off, allowing my hair to lift. “Going about like this was a disaster,” I said. “But playacting is fun. It doesn’t hurt anyone, and it keeps me safe.”
She rubbed her forehead tiredly. The door opened then, and Hlanan came in, wearing a long robe with fancy folded sleeves. It made him look taller. “Ah, good. Any problems?”
“No. We’re all here and we’re safe,” I said, clapping my hands.
“I won’t feel safe until we sail,” Hlanan said. He sounded even more tired than Kee.
“Where are you located?” Kee asked.
“Down below, crammed in with a lot of other poor sorts like myself, forward of the crew berth.” He grimaced. “Stuffy and close down there, no privacy, but the other fellows seem to be good enough sorts.”
Of course he would say that. He seemed to like everybody unless they actively proved themselves unlikable, just as he seemed to find everyone interesting. Thus his endless questions, as friendly as they were nosy.
There was a trunk against the bulkhead between us and the next cabin aft. Hlanan sat on this trunk so he would not have to stand with head bent. I put our bundles on the floor next to his feet and sat next to Kee on the bunk. We looked at one another wearily. Outside the single window the sun grayed the ragged clouds, and at last the ship began rolling majestically out of Fara Bay. Within a short time after that, Hlanan went below. I gave Kee the bunk and curled up on the floor. We were soon asleep.
By nightfall I’d figured out my jobs. It was expected that I’d take meals to the supposed Lady Kieran, and bring the dirty crockery back to the galley. I was also supposed to keep the cabin neat, but Kee kept her few belongings squared away, and I didn’t have any besides my stash, which I wore.
This time I adjusted to the movement within a day. Kee did as well, but she found the masquerade onerous. Other toffs aboard seemed to expect her to converse with them, make music with them, and other aristocratic pursuits.
The musicians were more enthusiastic than expert, making it easy for me to keep a wary, respectful distance. Music was so elusive, so beguiling, but I hated the way it stirred up the wrong memories and emotions.
Kee tried to avoid these friendly meetings after the first one when they asked her to take a turn. She mumbled something about tiredness, and retreated to the cabin. She decided to fake being sick, though she hated being kept inside the cabin, which got quite hot during the afternoon, if the wind wasn’t on the starboard beam and blowing in the window.
It was left to Hlanan to invent suitable stories about our background, because of course none of the toffs thought to ask a lackey, and I seldom saw any of the other servants. He matched their accents with an ease that impressed Kee and made me wonder even more about his real story. At least after she’d heard him spin tales about Castle North Chur, Kee stopped worrying about the ethics of playacting: she might still be ambivalent about me, but she had great respect for Hlanan.
So did I, but at the same time I was aware that he was a very deft liar.
Hlanan decided at the end of our third boring day at sea that he should really act the tutor. Maybe this was invented for Kee’s entertainment; at any rate, he declared it was time for me to learn to read and write, and to count in numbers higher than sixes. He chose Allendi for reading so that Kee could participate in the lessons.
“Also,” he said, overriding my excuses and protests, “it’s close enough to Elras, the tongue and script of Charas al Kherval. You’ll get that next.”
“But it’s boring,” I moaned.
“Th
ink of it as more playacting,” Kee said with a challenging grin.
“Or a secret code,” Hlanan added.
“You two are laughing at me,” I snarled.
“Never,” Hlanan said loftily, holding up his palm. “As I recall another person saying once not too long ago, I wouldn’t want a cranky sorcerer to turn me into a footstool.”
Uncomfortable with this ‘sorcerer’ talk, I gave in with a bad grace.
And at first the lessons were just as boring as I’d feared. Matching the little scrawls to various sounds seemed tedious beyond bearing, but after a day or two of practice I began to recognize some of them—and I will admit to a secret thrill when I first wrote out my name.
We spent the days on tutoring, while Kee read the books Hlanan had found on board for anyone to peruse, and at night, Hlanan entertained us with stories out of history. He knew a lot of history. When Kee commented on that, he seemed pleased, saying, “Well, when you are a scribe student, you copy out a lot of history while trying to perfect your handwriting and speed. So I thought I might as well read the books I was copying out of.”
We continued like this for a few more days. The trip was pleasant and even the weather behaved.
One evening Hlanan appeared in our cabin a little later than usual, Tir riding on his shoulder. The scribe carried one of the crystal goblets that they only used to serve the toffs. He had filled it with water.
“What’s that for?” Kee asked. “They think I’m thirsty?”
“I said you were thirsty.” Hlanan gave her a faint smile as Tir sent me a silent greeting and flapped up to perch on an empty candle-sconce. Hlanan went on, “My modest gear—such as it was—having been left behind in Imbradi when I was abducted, I’m forced to try something innovative. I’ve never been very good at this kind of communication. Not many magicians are. But sometimes where one fails, three can succeed.”
Kee and I watched as he set up the goblet between two candles on the little table. “What’s it you’re trying to do?”
“I’m going to try to scry Thianra the minstrel. Want to help?”
Kee shuddered. “I tried that once, with Nill. Because we’d been told not to. And all it did was make me so dizzy my stomach took a violent dislike.”