by Victor Poole
"Is this true?" the Thief Lord asked Ocher, his voice rough.
"Ocher didn't know until later," Ajalia said to the Thief Lord. "Beryl was telling Rane all about her doings tonight. I overheard her, and I went and watched her. She put the body into the garbage pit behind my house."
"Behind the dragon temple?" the Thief Lord asked. Ajalia nodded.
"That isn't true," Rane said. Ajalia glanced at the surly man. He did not look so cheerful, now.
"This is Rane," Ajalia told the Thief Lord. "He's Beryl's real husband. Beyrl is an agent from Talbos. She tricked Ocher into marrying her, and she's been using his position to get close to you."
"To kill my wife," the Thief Lord said slowly.
"No," Ajalia said. "To kill you."
What happened next happened so quickly that Delmar became a fixed point in a great rush of bodies. Ajalia had known that the Thief Lord would attack, but she had seen it as a matter of chance which way he would move. The Thief Lord ran towards Delmar, and both Ajalia and Rane reached the young man before the Thief Lord could touch his son. Ocher was the last to get into motion, but he came at the Thief Lord, and wrapped his burly arms around the leader of Slavithe before the cry of warning had left Rane's lips.
They all stood, frozen, Ajalia and Rane blocking Delmar's body, and Simon held immobile in Ocher's embrace, and their breath was like a pack of dogs.
THE NEW THIEF LORD
"Delmar," Ajalia said, her eyes fixed on the desperately struggling form of the Thief Lord, "do you believe me now?"
"Believe you about what?" Delmar asked, his voice shaking. Ajalia could feel his arms, tense and frozen behind her.
"That he wants to kill you," Ajalia said.
"Let go of me," Simon hissed at Ocher. Ocher tightened his hold on the Thief Lord, who thrashed and kicked out at Rane and Ajalia.
"I see you're on our side," Ajalia said to Rane, who grinned at her.
"Told you not to worry about me," he muttered. Ajalia saw that he had a small, clever knife in his hand. Ajalia turned, and took Delmar by the arm.
"Do you believe me now?" she asked him.
"Why are you holding him back?" Delmar asked Ocher. Delmar's voice was high, and anxious.
The Thief Lord let out a yell, and tore partially free of Ocher's embrace. Rane stepped forward, and grasped Simon hard around the neck and arms.
"Delmar," Ajalia said. Delmar's eyes skittered over her face; his breath came in ragged spurts.
"He doesn't mean it," Delmar said. He blinked several times. "He loses his temper sometimes," Delmar said, "he'll calm down."
Ajalia took her knife from behind her back, and wrapped Delmar's fingers around the hilt. Delmar looked down at the knife, as if he had never seen a weapon before.
"What's this for?" he asked her blankly.
Ajalia put an arm around Delmar's shoulders, and pulled him towards his father.
"What are you doing?" Delmar demanded. His legs were stiff, and he moved like a broken puppet.
"Do you believe me now?" Ajalia asked. Delmar looked over at her, his neck moving in sudden spurts, and she saw that his eyes were wide and panicked.
"I don't know," Delmar said.
Simon, held fast between Ocher and Rane, began to curse in another language. Ajalia saw Rane grin fiercely, and speak into Simon's ear in the same foreign tongue. Delmar stared at his father, and at Rane, and at the mixed sounds of their strange speech. Simon's words, violent and loud, and Rane's, soft and coaxing, made a muddled swirl of evocative noise in the lamplit room.
"What is he saying?" Delmar demanded, his eyes fixed on Rane. Rane glanced at Ajalia; she nodded.
"Let me at the little bastard," Rane translated, in a quiet voice, "I'll rip out his throat. He should never have been born. It's his fault his mother's dead. I should have killed him when he first came out of the womb. I'll kill him. I'll tear out his heart. He's a stupid boy. I knew I should have killed him then."
Ajalia watched Delmar's face; his cheeks quivered, and his eyes went hard and glassy. Delmar stepped towards his father; Simon glared wildly up at his son. Simon was half-kneeling, held immobile between Ocher and Rane. The Thief Lord had ceased speaking, but his teeth were bared, and a wild light was in his eyes.
"You asked me why I was in Slavithe," Simon said to Ajalia, his voice ragged and sharp. "I'll tell you why I'm here." Simon's eyes flashed towards Delmar, and his mouth moved into a deranged smile. "The boy's a monster," Simon said, his eyes boring into Delmar, his nostrils flared, "he'll destroy your life, the way he destroyed mine. I was a prince of Talbos before I came here!" Simon bellowed, twisting and writhing violently between the two men. Ajalia stepped forward, and put her hand around Delmar's hand. She lifted his arm, and dragged the knife across the Thief Lord's neck. Delmar pulled back against her; she put her knee against his waist, and blocked him in. Delmar was boxed in between Ajalia and Ocher and Rane. They watched Delmar; he was holding the knife, and the blade was stained with a narrow line of blood.
"You can't kill me," the Thief Lord hissed, his neck oozing crimson blood from the cut Ajalia had drawn through his skin.
"Kill him," Ajalia told Delmar.
"I can't kill anyone," Delmar said hoarsely.
"You can," Ajalia said. "If you don't, he will kill you."
"But I can't kill my father," Delmar protested. His neck was flush and swollen, and his words came out like heavy stones.
"Do you want me?" Ajalia asked him. Delmar looked sharply at her. Simon looked between the two, his forehead creased.
"Let go of me, you traitor," Simon hissed at Ocher. Ocher knocked Simon in the side of the head with his elbow, and Simon bellowed.
"Do you want me?" Ajalia repeated.
"I don't know!" Delmar said angrily.
"Because Ocher wants me," Ajalia said, "and Philas wants me, and if you aren't willing to protect yourself, then I will protect you, and I will leave you."
Delmar stiffened, as though he had been stabbed.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice much sharper than it had been.
"I will kill Simon," Ajalia said clearly, "and then I will choose someone else."
"Go on and kill him," Ocher told Ajalia, glancing with barely suppressed glee at Delmar's twisted expression.
"You can't do that," Delmar protested. Ajalia ripped the knife out of Delmar's hand. "Give that back!" Delmar shouted.
"Make me," Ajalia said. She had never thought before that she would hurt Delmar, but she felt a pressing heat of fire in her blood, and she knew she would mark him, if he kept on waffling.
"Jay," Delmar said. The frightening power was in his voice again; Ajalia watched him, her body tensed for a fight.
"Don't call me that," Ajalia said, without thinking.
"I'll call you what I like," Delmar said, his face a furious red. He moved, more swiftly than a shadow in the night, and grasped Ajalia's arm in a gentle fist. She drew back her other hand, raised ready to strike him. He glanced at her fist, and a smile tickled at the edges of his mouth.
"Can I have the knife now?" Delmar asked humbly. The tone of his voice was contrasted sharply with the hard grasp he held around her knife-bearing arm.
"Let go of me," Ajalia hissed. Rane and Ocher were staring at the pair of them; Simon was still struggling, his arms twisting, and his breath leaving him in heavy grunts.
"No," Delmar murmured. She glanced at the pair of men who restrained the Thief Lord, and her cheeks were flushed and hot.
"Are you going to kill him?" she demanded. Delmar answered by pressing his mouth against her in a deep kiss. He wormed the knife out of her hand, and went to his father.
"Ajalia says I need to kill you," Delmar told his father. Simon let out a furious laugh, and his face was a grotesque picture of hate and envy.
"He's jealous of you," Ajalia told Delmar, and Delmar laughed, and looked at his father. Simon's face betrayed him, and Delmar's laugh died away into a rasp.
"He's not jealous,"
Delmar said. He looked at Ajalia, and Ajalia nodded towards Simon.
"Look at his eyes," Ajalia said, and Delmar did.
"That isn't true," Delmar said in a hard voice. He raised the knife above his head, and Simon flinched. Rane grabbed Simon by the hair, and pulled his head back. Delmar stood still for a moment, his face a contortion of concentration and fear. He opened his mouth, and Ajalia thought that he was going to speak. Simon's eyes were turned with red-rimmed fury on his son; his throat made a great white stretch in the lamplight.
"You wouldn't dare," Simon spat, and Delmar closed his mouth with a snap. Delmar took a deep breath through his nose; the three others stared at Delmar, and waited.
"Would you kill me?" Delmar asked his father.
"Yes," his father breathed. "Let me go!" he shouted, and writhed between Ocher and Rane like a possessed thing. "I'll kill him," he roared, spittle flying from between his lips. "Let go of me!" he bellowed, "I'll kill you, Delmar!" he cried, and Delmar's hand holding the knife fell like a great sword, and pierced his father's neck. Blood came out, and an ugly gurgling noise filled up the room. Beryl pounded hard on the door, and the Thief Lord slumped down between the two men.
"I've destroyed your rug," Delmar said hoarsely to Ocher. Ocher shrugged.
"I don't care," Ocher said. "You'll never have me, will you?" he asked Ajalia. Ajalia pretended she hadn't heard. She took the knife away from Delmar, and rubbed it clean on the Thief Lord's clothes.
"You're the Thief Lord, now," she told Delmar. He had blood on his hands. His breath was coming sharp and fast into his nostrils, and his face looked peaked and dry.
"What am I going to do now?" Delmar said to no one in particular. "What will my mother say?" he asked.
"I killed your mother," Ajalia told him. "I said that." Ocher looked up sharply.
"You said Beryl killed her," Ocher said, his voice accusing and high.
"Yes, I said that," Ajalia said. "I lied. I killed her. Beryl was still betraying you, though."
"You did say that you killed her," Delmar said. "I thought you said that, but I didn't hear it right the first time."
Ajalia went to the same chair she had perched in earlier, and sat down.
"Well," she said, and her eyes were on the body on the floor. "At least he died quietly enough," she remarked.
"I wouldn't exactly call that quiet," Rane said.
"Who are you?" Ajalia asked him. "Do we need to do something about him?" she asked Ocher. Ocher looked as though he wanted to get his wife out of the secret room; Ajalia followed his gaze, and read his thoughts. "Hey," she said loudly, and Ocher looked around at her. "What is he doing here?" she asked.
"Rane is Beryl's brother," Ocher said.
"Husband," Ajalia said. "Tell him," she told Rane. Rane looked at Ocher, and shrugged.
"Sorry," Rane said, and he smiled. "Not her brother." Ocher sagged; he went to a seat, and fell into it.
"That's a lot to take in," Ocher said. Delmar wandered over to Ajalia, and sat on her. She squeezed to one side, and made him get off her legs. She settled onto his lap, and wrapped her hands around his arm. Rane remained standing, his arms crossed, and his eyes fixed on the body of the late Thief Lord.
"Well," Ajalia said again. She looked at Rane, and at Ocher. "Let's decide what we're going to do," she said.
"We?" Ocher said. His face had changed. He looked angry.
"You aren't going to turn petty, are you?" Ajalia demanded. Ocher's eyes pinched, and his mouth screwed up.
"Petty?" he said angrily.
"Yes," Ajalia said. "You wanted a new Thief Lord. Apparently, you've got one now. Your wife is a liar and a thief. You're going to get everything you wanted."
"I wanted you," Ocher said, and it looked as though the bearded man was going to cry.
"You keep saying that," Ajalia said, "but you don't mean it."
"Yes I do," Ocher said. Rane gathered up the Thief Lord's body, and began to carry it through the house. "Where are you going?" Ocher demanded of him.
"He's getting rid of the body," Ajalia said. "Go ahead," she said to Rane.
"You aren't in charge," Ocher shouted at Ajalia.
"She is, too," Delmar said.
"Is not!" Ocher cried, and he sounded like a boy throwing a fit. Tears had welled up in his eyes, and his throat was swelled and red. "She isn't in charge," he repeated, and his voice broke.
"I'm sorry about your wife," Ajalia said. "You did ask me for a wife, though," she added.
"I said I would like to marry you," Ocher said, and he blushed at the repetition. "How many times do I have to tell you that I like you?" he added, his eyebrows steepling together.
"If you liked me," Ajalia said evenly, "you would help me."
"Help you!" Ocher shouted. He stood up, and began to pace up and down the room. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, and Ajalia saw tears seeping down his cheeks and into his beard. "You speak as if you were a god."
"She has the power," Rane said. He had appeared in the doorway; his clothes were stained with blood.
"That was fast," Ajalia said.
"You aren't a witch, are you?" Rane asked Ajalia.
"She isn't a witch," Delmar said hotly.
"She has the power, and if she isn't a witch, then she is in charge," Rane told Ocher. "You'd best do whatever she says. You saw the light she made appear in there," Rane added, and he pointed to the hidden room.
"That might not mean anything, really," Ocher muttered, but he looked confused.
"She has the power," Rane said stubbornly. "What more do you want?"
"He wants to be the Thief Lord," Ajalia said, "and he wants me to admire him."
"I lent her power," Delmar put in suddenly. "She isn't the one."
"Is too," Rane said. "The power doesn't transfer like that."
"I did," Delmar insisted. "I split souls with her. She's using the Thief Lord's power."
"Your father had no power," Ajalia said, frowning.
"He wasn't a proper Thief Lord," Delmar said impatiently. "He wasn't blood."
"Because he was from Talbos," Ajalia said. "Is that why everyone said your mother wasn't a witch?"
"My mother isn't a witch," Delmar said indignantly. "Wasn't," he amended. "Is she really dead?" he asked Ajalia. She nodded.
"So your mother was the daughter of the last Thief Lord," Ajalia said, "and she inherited power from your grandfather?" Delmar nodded. "Then why isn't your grandfather still the Thief Lord?" Ajalia asked. Rane raised his hand, and started to speak. Ocher interrupted.
"She's not the one," Ocher said. "There isn't a one. Grandfather Tree surrendered the position to his daughter and her husband, Simon," Ocher told Ajalia, "for money, which is why the power was lost."
"The power was lost before that," Delmar argued. "We haven't had the power since Jerome drove Bakroth from Slavithe."
"If Bakroth founded Talbos," Ajalia asked, "wouldn't Simon have inherited his power?" She still was not sure what all the three men were talking about, but she was sure that Delmar was more the Thief Lord than his grandfather. Ocher, Rane, and Delmar looked around at Ajalia. They glanced at each other, and then Rane spoke.
"The kings of Talbos are descended from another man," Rane said, "one of Bakroth's servants, who ran off with his oldest daughter."
"Oh," Ajalia said. She felt as though she were venturing deeper and deeper into the realm of smoke and mirrors. "Who is the one?" she asked. Again, the three men glanced at each other. Ajalia thought she saw Delmar smile.
"The one who brings the Thief Lord back to life," Delmar said finally. "We call her the sky angel."
"And you know of the sky angel how?" Ajalia asked. For the third time, the three men exchanged glances.
"It's difficult to explain," Ocher said.
"There's a very long story," Delmar added.
"You wouldn't believe us," Rane said, "is what they are trying to say."
"Why not?" Ajalia asked. She looked around at each of them, an
d saw that they were embarrassed. "Well?" she asked. "If the story is so awful, can you give me a book or something?" Delmar laughed.
"You wouldn't be able to read it," he said.
"Why not?" Ajalia asked.
"It's secret," Delmar said.
"More secret than the book that Bakroth's wife made?" she asked. She saw Delmar's neck swell and turn purple. "Let me guess," she said wryly, "that is more secret than this."
"You have an old book?" Rane asked quickly.
"No," Ajalia said. "Do you?"
"Delmar hides old books outside the city," Ocher told Rane. Delmar started out of the chair, making Ajalia fall to the side, and clutch at the arm of the chair. Delmar rushed out of the room, and Ajalia was sure he was going to retrieve his cache of books from the hole in the wall.
"Well, that's spooked Delmar," Ajalia said. Rane and Ocher looked at each other, and she saw them shift a little. The banging on the secret door started up again. "What are you going to do with your wife?" she asked Rane. Ocher started to reply, before he realized that Ajalia had addressed her question to Rane.
"She'll be taken back to Talbos," Rane said. "I'll contact the gangs tomorrow morning. She has a brother in the war bands."
"A real brother," Ocher said drily.
"Yes," Rane said, without embarrassment. "If it makes any difference, ours was never a love match. We were sent as a pair to get at the Thief Lord."
"Why?" Ajalia asked. She moved to the edge of her chair, and put her chin into her hands. Rane looked at Ocher, and then at Ajalia. "I can handle Ocher," she told Rane. "He hasn't turned on me yet."
"I will turn on you," Ocher told her, "any minute now."
"Cheer up," Ajalia told him. "I told you I'd get you a proper wife."
"Not like you," Ocher said sourly.
"Yes," Ajalia agreed, "not like me. I'm far too mean for you." Ocher stared at her, and his eyes were dry and feverish. "You'll see," she said.
"You're wrong about me," Ocher told her.
"Then show me I'm wrong," she said to him. Rane laughed, and Ocher glared at him.