by Victor Poole
"Let me go," he mouthed at her. She ignored him. The door opened, and Coren appeared in the warm glow of yellow candlelight. His face lit up with recognition when he saw Ajalia. Ajalia saw a warm, well-furnished office laid out within the room.
"Say," Coren shouted; Ajalia flinched at the noise. "That lady's here again," Coren said, going back into the room.
"Who?" the Thief Lord asked lazily. Ajalia could still hear the movement of a sharp pen against paper.
"That slave," Coren said. Ajalia could see the boy lounging against a plush chair; his eyes turned carelessly at her. She had seen the way the boy looked past his older brother; she thought that it was just the same way Gabriel had looked through her, when her mother had shouted through the garden window for her to come and do the washing up.
"What is it?" the Thief Lord shouted towards the door. He was sitting somewhere behind the door; Ajalia could not see him at all. She waited.
"She's still there, waiting," Coren told his father.
"Well, come in, then," the Thief Lord bellowed. Ajalia waited. Delmar was white as a sheet, and staring at her in horror.
"Well, go in," he mouthed at Ajalia. She ignored him, and stood patiently in the hall. Finally, she heard the scrape of chair legs, and a slap of a book thrown down on the surface of a table. The Thief Lord, his face mottled with annoyance, appeared at the door.
"What?" the Thief Lord snapped. He glanced with dislike at Delmar; Ajalia saw that Delmar's father was not surprised to see her in the house. "Are you sick of him yet?" the Thief Lord demanded, glaring at Ajalia. "Have you come to return him?" he asked.
Ajalia stared at the Thief Lord, hatred bubbling slowly in her chest.
"Your wife came and harassed me tonight," Ajalia said finally.
"Sorry," the Thief Lord said shortly. His mouth turned up scornfully. "Is that all?" he asked. Ajalia looked at the Thief Lord, and thought about killing him. She still wanted Delmar to do it. She could feel him trembling at her side, his wrist almost shrinking under her grip.
"I'm taking Delmar on a journey," she told the Thief Lord. "Ocher's taking my place while I'm gone."
The Thief Lord's eyebrows raised involuntarily; Ajalia saw that she had surprised him. He opened his mouth in the shape of an O, and then closed his teeth with a snap.
"And you've come to tell me this, why?" he demanded.
"I was outside, taking a stroll today," Ajalia said. Rage and disgust were battling each other beneath her breastbone. She wanted to throttle the Thief Lord, in his cozy study with the plush chairs. She let go of Delmar, and stepped past the Thief Lord, into the room. She saw that it was an elegant study; a large table lay pushed against one wall, behind the opened door. The room was spacious, and the ceiling had been painted with an ornate scene of two battling ships and a sea monster. Ajalia took in the piles of papers and books on the desk, and the framed paintings and sketches on the walls.
"Do you think he's mentally insufficient?" she asked, without turning.
"Who?" the Thief Lord asked lightly, but Ajalia was sure he knew what she meant. She turned, and met the Thief Lord's eyes. He had the grace to blush, for one part of a second.
"I was taking a stroll," she began again, "and I overheard something you may find interesting." The Thief Lord's face smoothed into a look of quiet composure. He looked suddenly disinterested and aloof.
"Are you going to stand out there all night?" Coren asked Delmar, who hovered still in the hall, a look of cowed terror in his eyes. Delmar darted back into the shadows of the hall, and Coren laughed. "He's a dunce," Coren told Ajalia loudly. Ajalia drew her knife, and went to the boy. The Thief Lord watched her without moving as she rapped the boy violently on the top of the head with the hilt of her knife. Coren shrieked, and scrambled away from her.
"I'll mark you," she told the boy, watching him cower in a corner, his eyes wide in shock, and his hands clutched over his hair where she had struck him, "if you bother me again," she added, and resheathed her knife.
"You're in my house," the Thief Lord said mildly.
"More shame on you, then," Ajalia told him. He looked at her with hard cheeks, but there was a smile on his lips.
"What have you got to tell me?" he asked.
"I've decided not to tell," Ajalia said. "Your boy irritated me, and now I'm in a close-lipped mood."
"Well, goodbye then," the Thief Lord drawled, "and safe journey."
"It's a great pity, not to have a mother," Ajalia said over her shoulder, as she went out of the room again. The Thief Lord leapt after her. He slammed the door shut as soon as he was in the hall, and gripped Ajalia hard by the shoulder. She twisted out of his grip, and her blade was in her hand, and a hair away from the Thief Lord's nose. "I have been," Ajalia breathed, and she saw fear come into the Thief Lord's eyes for the first time since she had met him, "excessively patient with you." She stepped back, and put away her knife. "Do not touch me again," she said, unnecessarily, as the Thief Lord had pressed his body flat against the closed metal door. He regarded her warily.
"What do you know," he asked slowly, "about my wife?"
"Delmar," Ajalia called. Delmar appeared at the far end of the hall; he had retreated when the scuffle in the room had started. His eyes were wide and white, like a frightened deer's. "We're going," she told him. "Do you need anything from here?" Delmar shook his head hard, his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. He darted past his father, and proceeded Ajalia down the stairs.
"Wait," the Thief Lord said, but he sounded unsure. Ajalia heard his footsteps coming along behind her. "What do you know about my wife?" the Thief Lord asked again. Ajalia caught up to Delmar, and put her hand on his lower back. She could feel him sweating, and shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. She guided him down the landing and into the second stretch of stairs. She could hear his breath coming in and out of his mouth with a dry rasp.
"Come on," she muttered. He nodded jerkily, and went down the steps. "You're going to be all right," she told him.
"I'm not alright," he said in a shrill whisper. She pushed against his back, and she felt him leaning against her a little. She thought that he was like a nervous young horse, in the way he leaned into the pressure of her hand.
"Just keep walking," she murmured. The three of them tumbled down the stairs in a silent row; Ajalia knew that the Thief Lord was following them. She could practically hear his thoughts surging around her like noxious waves. She knew he wanted to know what she would have said, and she knew she was not going to tell him without significant negotiation on his part.
She made it almost all of the way out of the house, pressing Delmar in front of her, before the Thief Lord spoke again.
"What do you want for it?" he asked her brusquely.
"For what?" she asked blandly. She stepped past Delmar, keeping a hand on his lower back, and opened the door. There were locks on the side; she jiggled at them until they opened, and then pushed Delmar out into the open street. She stepped in front of the open door, and turned to face the Thief Lord.
"What do you want for it?" the Thief Lord asked again, his voice growing impatient.
"I don't know what you mean," Ajalia said. She pushed the door wider, and began to slip outside. The Thief Lord put a hand out to stop her, and then hissed in remembrance, and pulled his fingers away. Ajalia stopped, and glared at him.
"I think you know what I mean," the Thief Lord said anxiously. "I mean what you said, about not having a mother."
"I don't know what you mean," Ajalia said, and she stepped out of the door, pulling it closed behind her. She went down the low steps that lay just outside the front door, and put her arm behind Delmar again. She thought that he had gone into a kind of trance; he was standing, stunned, in the darkness. He made a long shadow against the white pavement. Ajalia pushed him towards the street, towards the place where Ocher's wife and the other man had stood, and spoken in low voices.
"Where are we going?" Delmar asked her. Ajalia heard the door open at
the Thief Lord's house. She went ahead to the door of the house before them, and rapped on it. She looked behind; the Thief Lord was coming slowly out of his house. He had a look on his face that was decidedly unsure. Ajalia thought he looked as though he had not made up his mind yet whether he would follow her. She knew he could see her. She pushed Delmar into the shadow on the other side of the door, and rapped at it again. After a long moment, as she watched the Thief Lord dawdle undecidedly on his front stoop, the door of the house where she stood opened, and Beryl appeared. At least, Ajalia thought that this would be Beryl. Ocher came to the door behind his wife, and Ajalia smiled with relief.
"I'm in negotiations for your wife's freedom," Ajalia said to Ocher. Ajalia saw Beryl's eyes widen. Ajalia pushed Delmar into the opening the door made. "Take Delmar for just a moment," Ajalia said to Ocher. Ocher looked at Ajalia, and then at his wife. Ocher nodded sharply, and reached for Delmar. The door shut again as Ajalia heard the Thief Lord's footsteps crunch on the hard stone behind her.
"What are you doing at Ocher's house?" the Thief Lord asked in a jovial voice. Ajalia turned and began to walk through the moonlit streets. The Thief Lord scrambled to catch up. He tried to walk in a nonchalant manner, but his jittering arms betrayed him.
"You want something from me," Ajalia observed. The Thief Lord said nothing. Ajalia walked faster. He followed along, his long legs stretching over the streets. On an impulse, she directed her steps towards the stable district. It was something of a walk, but Ajalia suspected that the Thief Lord would take some softening up. They walked in silence for many minutes; Ajalia settled into a rhythm; she walked, and on every fourth step, she glanced to the side, at the Thief Lord's features. His face was blank and smooth, like carved stone. His eyes seemed glassy. Finally, as they neared the edge of the residential district, and after they had walked for nearly a quarter of an hour, she saw his chest expand with breath, and his lips part. She waited for him to speak.
"You don't understand," the Thief Lord said carefully, "what a burden I carry for this people."
"I understand well enough that you fear your son," she said at once. He puckered his lips, and frowned at her, his face turned to the side.
"I don't know what you mean by that," he said.
"Oh," she observed. They walked in silence for a very long time after this. When they came to Denai's area, Ajalia glanced in, and thought of what she had heard about him. She wondered if he had secret things hidden in his stables, and reminded herself to look through his harnesses another time. She continued down the long road that led to the middle of the stalls, where her black horse was stabled, and she listened to the Thief Lord's footsteps.
"What's your name?" Ajalia asked him. He looked around at her.
"Simon," he said. Ajalia watched the torch lights flicker on the wooden stalls.
"Delmar didn't know your name," she explained. The Thief Lord said nothing. Ajalia opened her mouth to say that she had killed his wife, and then she closed her mouth again. She could not have said exactly what was happening, but she could feel the Thief Lord's insides beginning, slowly, to unspool. She wanted to get out all the secrets that would spill out of him if she tugged on the unraveling parts of him. She wanted, also, to know why he had responded so readily to what she had said about mothers.
"Everyone tells me Lilleth is no witch," Ajalia said conversationally. Simon watched her unlatch the stall door, and go in to her black horse.
"Who says that?" he asked. Ajalia took a rope down from where it hung, and tied a halter from it around her black horse's face. She led the horse out of the stall, and latched the door. She tied the rope under the makeshift halter, and put the loop over the horse's head. She levered herself onto the black horse, and nudged at his sides with her heels. The black horse walked out into the street.
Ajalia began to think about taking Delmar, and going to meet Philas. She was not sure if he was in Talbos or Saroyan, but she did not feel ready to kill the Thief Lord, and she knew Delmar was in no state to murder his father yet. The Thief Lord walked along beside the black horse. His face was still tipped up toward her, his chin fixed determinedly, and his mouth pressed into a line.
"I'll be honest," Ajalia told the Thief Lord, listening to the clop of her black horse's hooves on the white stones, "you don't have anything that I want."
"I could keep you here," Simon said instantly. Ajalia looked straight ahead, her face neutral. She felt, now that the wife was dead, that the husband was more of an annoyance than a danger. He did not know it, she thought, but the Thief Lord had been stripped of whatever legitimacy his marriage had lent to his position. Ajalia was sure that once the people realized that the Thief Lord's wife was gone, they would be less pliable.
"Tell me about being a slave," Ajalia said lightly, resting her arm on the black horse's withers. "We can compare notes," she added with a smile. Simon looked up at her, and his mouth twitched. Ajalia thought that he looked like a man who is not sure of pleasing by smiling.
"My duty is to my people," Simon said finally. Ajalia laughed, and the Thief Lord's face puckered into stern disapproval.
"Which people?" Ajalia asked. The Thief Lord stopped walking. Ajalia halted her horse, and looked back at him. "Well?" she asked. "It's an honest question."
"I could have you killed, you know," Simon said.
"You could try, I guess," Ajalia agreed. The Thief Lord looked at her, and Ajalia thought that he was like nothing so much as a deflated bird, or a set of sails with great holes down the centers.
"Why did you come here?" he exclaimed. "I don't understand you," he added mutinously, and began to walk again. Ajalia nudged at her horse. She did not laugh at the Thief Lord, but she saw the light depression that had entered his shoulders, and the way his head tilted down. She could see that she was winning.
Ajalia was accustomed to people being disconcerted by her master; it had been a long time since she had actually worked such a deal as this, and she had forgotten how powerful she felt.
"If it makes you feel any better," Ajalia said to the Thief Lord, "no one else has been able to kill me so far, either."
"I don't want you to kill me," the Thief Lord said angrily, "I want you to do what I want."
"Okay," Ajalia said. She was sure that Simon had not heard the slip his words had made. She was sure he had meant to say that he didn't want to kill her. She wondered what was in his thoughts, that his tongue had betrayed him so readily. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"I want you to go away!" the Thief Lord exclaimed. "Take Delmar, and get out of the city, and never come back!"
"Great," Ajalia said. "That's just what I wanted to hear. Thanks." She clapped her legs to the black horse's sides, and he burst into a smooth canter. She heard the Thief Lord shouting behind her, but she didn't listen to the words.
The clatter of the black horse's hooves filled up the long width between the stables; Ajalia heard the sleepy snorts and whuffles of the beasts within the stalls. She rode through the end of the stable row, and urged the black horse to a gallop.
A STRAINED MEETING
The stones were slippery and coarse beneath the black horse's hooves; he had a sure pace, and his quarters propelled him forward powerfully. Ajalia watched the white balconies and roofs flash past. The streets were mostly empty; what few pedestrians there were parted hurriedly when they heard the hubbub of the horse's hooves coming. She rode to Ocher's house, and the black horse seemed to read her thoughts; he slowed to a trot, and then to a halt with a little bounce of his shoulders. Ajalia threw the loop of rope over the black horse's head, and slid off his back. She tied him to a ring that was fixed on a post outside the house, and let herself in the front door. She guessed, correctly, that the door would be unfastened. She thought that she would find Delmar just inside, hiding in the shadows near the door, but the entrance of the house was dark and still. She closed the door quietly behind her, and listened to the house. She could hear nothing, no murmur of voices or steps. Sof
tly, as though she were walking in a house full of the dead, Ajalia stepped into the first passage. The back of her neck prickled a little; she knew she was alone.
She closed her eyes, and imagined where in the house the living people would be. Ajalia opened her eyes, and pressed her hand against one wall. She walked into the nearest room, and went straight to a door that lay recessed behind a long curtain. Beryl, Ajalia told herself, was going to make herself an obstacle. Ajalia knocked sharply on the door. This door was made of wood, and made a thick echo under her rapping knuckles.
She thought she heard a sudden cut off of murmuring voices within; she waited, and knocked again. Silence came strong and heavy from whatever was behind the door. Ajalia sighed, and examined the edges of the door. She could find two bare hinges protruding from the top and bottom of one edge of the wooden door; she drew her knife, and dug the point under the edge of a metal hinge. One of the fastenings made an angry screech as it peeled away from the wood.
Ajalia heard an uproar of voices inside the room; she thought she could discern arguing. She wiggled her knife out of the hinge, and examined the damage. The metal was not thick, and had half-curled into an ugly turn. Ajalia raised the hilt of her knife, and brought it down with a crack on the curved metal hinge. The shouting in the room turned into chaotic rises of noise.
She heard the loud snick of a lock being turned, and she stepped back. Ocher appeared behind the door; the space within was brightly lit with candles and lanterns. Ocher tried to stand so that his body was blocking Ajalia's view, but she was quicker than he was, and she saw what she needed to see before his wide shoulders filled up the opening.