by P. A. Wilson
“No.”
A few moments later, Springheart greeted Devissial and they retired to a parlor filled with books and small statues. There were small glasses of a local sweet wine and a plate of cookies. Willowvine sat beside Springheart and settled into the light trance she would need to read the client. His aura was all pure honesty.
“We are attempting to locate the stone, but are having some difficulty,” Springheart said. “If you could tell us more…”
Devissial sipped his wine. “I only have information that will provide you with the final destination for the stone. I cannot provide you with that until you have obtained it.”
Springheart looked at Willowvine but she had no information to add.
“Why us?” he asked.
“I do not know the full reason for my friend’s insistence on you. I know that you are very good at what you do, and you are elves. You may be orphans but you are still preferable to any other being. There is rumor that the stone is on the island. Oh, I suppose that is new information.”
“It helps, thank you,” Springheart said. “If it’s here, then at least there are fewer places to hide it. What about the size of the stone?”
“I do not know, but it cannot be too large. It wouldn’t be easy to transport. If pressed, I would guess that it’s no more than a few feet across, but I don’t know.”
Willowvine was bored with reading the man’s aura. He had no guile, no secret agenda. She kept her attention on the conversation, which continued to be comprised of Springheart asking a question and Devissial answering with an apology but no information. As she looked around the room, the artworks, and the number of books Devissial kept captured her interest.
She couldn’t see any organization to either collection that she could see from her seat, but assumed there must be. The man was a scholar after all. There was a lull in the conversation and she took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering her. “How did you come to know your friend? Elves aren’t usually that friendly with humans.”
“That is true, but we shared a common interest in the history of Cartref. I visited the elven library, and he assisted me with my studies. We became friends and have stayed that way ever since. Well as close friends as a human and elf can be.”
It didn’t give her any further insight and Springheart wasn’t doing any better. It was time to go, but he didn’t seem to know that. She turned to him to see that he was still struggling to come up with a question that would help. He really wasn’t good at this. Taking pity on him she rose. “Thank you for meeting with us. I think it will all help.”
Springheart looked at her sternly, but his aura was all gratitude.
Chapter 11
Maynard followed Springheart and Willowvine through the dim street to the meeting he’d arranged with his informant. It was still early afternoon, but the closeness of the buildings and the height of the walls made it seem like night. It rankled that to meet his goal he actually needed help them this time. But if they never got around to finding this stone, he couldn’t steal it away. And the island was too small for him to get away with simply finding it for himself. Someone, probably a guild board member, would find out and that would mean disaster.
No. His plan had to be getting the elves to do all the work. Then he could finish the job. Not that he could go to Devissial to get the second message, but surely any elf would take the stone if it was that important — take the stone and reward him appropriately. Springheart and Willowvine hadn’t been properly grateful for his help, but that didn’t matter. He’d win in the end.
“Maynard, come walk with us,” Springheart called. “You don’t need to skulk back there.”
He hurried to catch up. He had to keep up the appearance of being with them, even though he was sure they suspected that he had an ulterior motive. “Will you both talk to my informant?”
Willowvine shrugged. “I guess so. We both need to be there.”
“I can do the talking if you want,” he said. “My informant can get twitchy with strangers.”
“I’ll do the talking,” Springheart said. “But we will all be there.”
Willowvine looked at her partner, but didn’t speak.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Maynard said. “You are older, and no matter the species, the young often have difficulty with subtlety.”
“Willowvine can be subtle, but she has a different role.” Springheart looked at the girl as though she were his best tool.
This was proving harder than Maynard had anticipated.
These two were always bickering, but tonight they had simply agreed when either spoke. If he was going to pit them against each other, he would have to apply more pressure. And they needed to be at odds. It was the only way he knew to make their upcoming failure credible.
He tried another tack. If there was no space for the wedge to come between them, maybe he could force them to worry about him. “You said the details of the contract were secret. Are you sure I won’t hear anything I shouldn’t?”
Willowvine glanced at him again. It was disconcerting. She seemed to look right into him. That mysterious talent she had, the one that was supposed to be their edge, could it be mindreading?
“Nothing that your informant can say will even get close to the secret,” she assured him. “Springheart talks because that’s his job tonight. I get to talk plenty, and I’m an expert in subtlety.”
Pride. That would be useful. “I’m sure you are.” He paused, trying to give the impression that he was thinking through what she’d said.
“Maynard, we need you to keep up,” Springheart said. “Why have you stopped?”
He shook himself out of the pretend fog. “We are almost here. Please don’t damage my relationship with Tamm. He is my most valuable asset.”
“We know how to deal with informants,” Springheart said. “He just needs to answer the question and then we’ll be on our way.”
Willowvine held the door for them and they entered the dark common room of The Broken Horseshoe tavern. If he didn’t need them, it would be easy to have the elves killed in this part of town. And it wouldn’t cost much.
When his eyes adjusted, Maynard saw Tamm waiting for them at a table in the far corner. The goblin had a tankard in front of him, and it looked like he’d emptied four or five of them while waiting. It took a lot to make a goblin inebriated, but Tamm was always willing to test the limits. Selling information paid his drinking costs. Maynard hadn’t been lying when he said Tamm was his most valuable asset.
Maynard made the introductions and then sat to observe.
“We are Maynard’s colleagues,” Springheart said. “You have information for us.”
“You have my fee?” Tamm always wanted the coin first.
Willowvine was sitting back in her chair, relaxed enough to seem to be dozing. If the child couldn’t pay attention for even a few minutes, it would work in his favor later.
Springheart placed the small bag of coins on the table, opened it so Tamm could see the contents, and then pressed his hand on top. “You’ll have the bag when we have the information.”
Tamm looked at Maynard, injury in his expression. As much as he wanted to mess with the elves, this was no different from the way Tamm and Maynard did business.
The goblin drank from his tankard before saying, “You’re looking for someone who may have changed his behavior lately, correct?”
Springheart nodded.
“Someone who has an unusual level of hatred for your kind.”
Springheart waited, and the girl opened her eyes. She nodded at Springheart and then relaxed.
“The name, and any other information you have,” Springheart said.
Tamm sighed. “Very well, I suppose I can’t expect a nice conversation from elves. The name you want is Byner Lannger. She has suddenly stopped ranting about elves. Not that she was open about it, but those who knew her well were privy to her feelings. Now, she doesn’t say anything if the subject co
mes up.”
Springheart looked at Willowvine again. He frowned when she nodded, but took his hand off the payment. When Tamm had slipped the money into a pocket, they rose and left the tavern.
Maynard knew he’d missed something between the elves, but he also knew that Byner Lannger couldn’t be their target. She wouldn’t be patient enough to wait for the elves to die out. If she wanted the elves gone, she’d want it done immediately.
But he couldn’t say that. He wasn’t supposed to know the details.
* * *
Outside the seedy tavern, Willowvine found herself scratching at her legs. The place was riddled with vermin and bugs. She shivered and tried to ignore the creeping feeling on her skin.
“Okay, so we go to this Lannger woman?” She hoped that one of them knew where the woman would be. The whole thing could be over tonight.
“No,” Springheart said. “I don’t think this is a good lead.”
“But he was telling the truth.” She’d scanned the goblin and there was no doubt that he was being honest.
Maynard glanced at Springheart before saying, “I think he was, but the woman he mentioned is unlikely to be who you are looking for.”
“How do you know?” She tried to scan Maynard again, but his aura was as murky as it usually was. He was always hiding something. She couldn’t tell if it had anything to do with the current situation, or whether it was just his normal state.
“Willowvine, Maynard is right. I know this woman and she hates elves, but…”
“But?” she asked before she realized they were treading too close to the details.
“Perhaps I should leave you,” Maynard said in his oily voice. “I seem to be making it worse, and there are arguments you cannot make when I am here.”
“Good,” Willowvine said. She stared at him, waiting for him to act on his offer. She knew she could convince Springheart to check out the lead. Even if she was wrong, it didn’t make sense to ignore the only clue they had.
Holding up his hand, Springheart said, “No, stay. We need to think of a better way to gather information.” He looked around. “Perhaps not here.”
Maynard took Springheart’s offer and gave Willowvine a patronizing smile. She saw triumph flash through Maynard’s aura.
“You go. I feel like taking a walk,” Willowvine said.
“Would your walk take you to Byner Lannger’s home?” Springheart asked.
She couldn’t lie to him. He had a way of knowing when she did. It was truly annoying. “Not now. Fine. I’ll come.”
Chapter 12
Springheart couldn’t blame Willowvine for arguing. He didn’t care for the fact that he was taking Maynard’s side. But the lead wasn’t good and they didn’t have time to follow it. There would be enough good leads to check, if they could find a way to get them.
They left the unsavory part of town to reconvene in The Gilded Trout where Maynard had convinced the owner to free up a private room so they could talk. Creating a new plan would be so much easier if they could tell Maynard more of the details. The man might be sneaky and unpleasant, but he did have a solid network and his skills might be more valuable right now than maintaining the secret.
“I think we are asking the right questions,” Maynard said after the waitress delivered their mugs of beer. “Perhaps it is just too optimistic to think the first answer will be the right one.”
“There are enough people on the island who dislike elves that we should have more names by now,” Springheart said.
Maynard grunted his agreement. “How did you know that Tamm was telling the truth? If that’s not one of the details to be kept secret.”
Willowvine looked up from her sulk.
Springheart realized he would have to talk to her later about the value of using people she didn’t like. Most of her objection was probably about Maynard taking the same side as he did about the Lannger woman. Springheart could see Willowvine struggling with how much to tell Maynard. It was up to her to explain her power, but he hoped she found a way to keep it secret. There were too many people who would exploit her for it, and some of them were people she considered friends.
“I know when someone is lying,” she finally admitted. “I learned how to read their reactions. He wasn’t lying.”
Maynard narrowed his eyes in speculation of just that exploitation Springheart feared, or possibly in suspicion that she was not telling the truth herself. “He wouldn’t jeopardize his standing with me.”
“Fine, but I’m telling you he wasn’t lying.”
Maynard glared at her. Apparently, he had no experience in dealing with other people’s obstinacy. “Let me finish. Tamm wouldn’t knowingly send us on a false trail. Someone gave him that woman’s name to waste our time.”
That was a possibility. If the real thief knew they were looking, and it wouldn’t be long before that happened with every informant asking questions, then they knew the value of wasting time in this case. Springheart changed the subject from what had happened to what they could do about it. “Can we find out who told Tamm?”
“Perhaps we can be more subtle,” Maynard said. He was clearly in his element with this. The veneer of interest he had been wearing since they started was gone, replaced with a real joy. “I hate to use Tamm like this, but we could set a trap.”
“Why not just ask him,” Willowvine said. “He knows who told him, right?”
Springheart gave her their signal to scan Maynard. He didn’t want to be fooled by the man’s interest. Maynard still had his own goals. If Willowvine could read his intent, then they would be better armed to avoid a trap. She tapped the table, the code that she agreed. This time she didn’t close her eyes, and that meant she’d be weak if it took too long.
“Tamm may get touchy about giving away his source of information,” Maynard said. “He worries that I will cut him out. He should be. I thought we could send him on another errand, one that will put him in contact with the same source. We could shadow him.” He glanced between the two elves. “You are very good at that.”
Springheart watched Willowvine’s reaction. Her skin was becoming ashen, but she just shrugged. Perhaps there were people she could not read. He turned back to Maynard. “Can we do that tonight?”
Maynard drank the last of his beer before responding. “No. He’ll be too far into the barrel by now. I’ll ask the landlord of The Broken Horseshoe to make sure Tamm is sober before the night is over. Now, I need to think a little about the task we should set him. Let’s meet here in two hours?”
He didn’t wait for agreement, just took his leave through the curtain.
Springheart’s dislike of the man returned in full force as soon as he left. He checked the common room to make sure Maynard wasn’t listening at the curtain. He saw the swish of a cloak just as the front door closed — Maynard was gone. They had privacy again. Perhaps they couldn’t speak plainly, but they could speak more openly now that the man was gone.
“What did you see?” Springheart asked as he returned through the curtain.
“The same as always,” she said. “It’s all muddy. He’s got too many intentions and I can’t tell if he’s on our side or not.”
Her voice faded and Springheart looked more closely in the dim light. She was holding her head on her hand, propping herself up, but losing the battle with fatigue. He called for food and made her eat before they headed for home.
He hoped that Maynard was able to set a good trap, and that whoever was misdirecting them would be the thief.
* * *
“The message was delivered, sir,” Ballian reported.
Vitenkar swirled the wine in his glass, the ruby liquid clinging like blood to the sides. “And did they fall for it?”
“I was outside the tavern. They knew it was false.”
Ballian’s attitude would need to be corrected soon. Right now, he was the best option Vitenkar had to keep his plan on track.
Ballian had found that goblin and convinced the sot to
pass on the information they had provided. His lieutenant wasn’t as useless as Vitenkar had feared. “Did the goblin tell them the full story?”
“I was not inside, but by what they said, it was not the fault of the messenger.” Ballian looked over at the liquor cabinet. The hint was not subtle, barely a hint at all. “The girl was fooled, but that was all.”
Vitenkar was not going to offer him a drink. This was not a time for celebration. He needed to find another way to send those elves on a foolish chase. If he couldn’t misdirect them, the questions they were asking would eventually lead to his door. The stone needed to be kept away from them for so few days. He couldn’t fail at this first step.
“If the girl was fooled, the others can be,” he said. “Why didn’t they believe?”
That question made Ballian think. Vitenkar wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the real answer, or what lie he could get away with. He watched his lieutenant for clues. But when the man finally spoke, it did nothing to assure Vitenkar of his loyalty.
“If I knew where this object is,” he said. “I could perhaps create a more intriguing false trail.”
There was no need for anyone else to know where the stone was, or even what it was. He’d gone to the trouble to have it stolen then kill the thief. He would not waste that effort. Until the time limit had passed, no one would be able to betray him.
“If you cannot misdirect a pair of elves and a nosy human, I will start looking for another lieutenant. I’m sure that Dintral will be happy for a second chance to impress me.”
Ballian didn’t react to the threat.
He had courage. There was no doubt of that. Vitenkar feared that Ballian’s loyalty was only to Ballian, and any alliance with another was only temporary. That attitude was not unusual in a Scree lord, but soldiers were sworn to lifelong allegiance to one lord, or were until this damn peace.
After another longing glance at the liquor cabinet, Ballian said, “We need to direct them to someone like you, someone hard to reach, someone who will have a longer-term plan. The woman we used is too impulsive to be credible.”