The Betrayed

by Matthew Dickerson

  He found the tavern at the far end of the street. It stood about half the size of the Green Pearl and was not nearly as well kept. A faded black sign marked the door. On it, carved in red letters, was the name “The Dagger’s Water.” Above the name was a picture of a river with a bloody silver dagger stuck in it the middle and the current dividing both ways around it. Neither the sign nor the building were inviting, but Thimeon took a deep breath, looked around once more to make sure he wasn’t being watched, and approached.

  As Lluanthro had promised, the establishment was run down. Several boards hung loose, and half the windows were boarded over. On the right was a small one-story attachment with a sagging roof. A couple of men stood outside in the shadows talking in low voices, but they stopped when Thimeon approached and watched him enter.

  Inside was dimly lit. The air was full of rank smoke from too many people puffing poor quality pipe-weed. Across the hall, a man stood behind a long counter filling mugs of ale from a tap on the wall behind him. Two women—plump, full-breasted, and scantily clad—wandered around serving the tables. Though the evening was still early, most of those tables were already occupied. About fifty patrons filled the room, though only a half dozen or so were women. A few other faces turned for a glance at the newcomer, but beyond that nobody paid him much attention. For that Thimeon was thankful as he walked over to where a man served drinks. He was already uncomfortably aware of how costly his new tunic was in contrast to the worn and dirty garments of the others there.

  “I’m looking for Gollups,” he said to the man behind the bar.

  The man—fat and with a balding top—narrowed his eyes and looked Thimeon over carefully. Then he disappeared into the other room without a word. A minute later a different man returned. He was tall and lean, dressed in attire more like Thimeon’s than anybody else’s in the room. He wore a wide hat that shadowed his eyes and held a long knife in his right hand, which he used to whittle a piece of wood as he walked. When he came to a stop across the bar from Thimeon, he put down the wood and stuck his knife into the countertop. His voice was low but surly and accusing. “I’m Gollup, and I don’t know who you are,” he said. “I hope you have a good reason for asking for me, and I hope you’re going to give it to me without lies because I can smell a lie from a mile away.”

  Thimeon swallowed. “I’m looking for mug of good beer. I was told by a friend that the Dagger’s Water had the best beer in Citadel but I needed to ask for Gollup to get it.”

  The man stared at Thimeon, then spat on the floor and walked away. As he was leaving, he said to the bartender, “Give the man some of the usual. Make it on the house.”

  The bartender filled a mug and gave it to Thimeon, who took it to the one empty table in the room. Several people watched him now, but whenever he looked their way, they lowered their heads and pretended not to notice him. Wondering whether he had made a mistake in coming there, he sat down and lifted the mug to his lips. If it hadn’t been for all the other odors wafting around his table, the smell might have given him warning. He took one taste and almost spat it out. The beer tasted like muddy water. Only then did he remember what Lluanthro had told him. Strong whiskey or rum or something of that kind was supposed to come with the name “Gollup.” Too late now. With the mug still to his lips, he choked down another small sip.

  When he lowered his mug and lifted his eyes, he was looking right at Siyen. She sat two tables in front of him, talking in a low voice with two men. Caught by surprise at her presence, Thimeon just stared for a moment. In the midst of the escape from Citadel and everything else that had happened over the past five days, he had forgotten about her. She didn’t appear to have seen him. She was intent in conversation with the two men.

  When he had recovered from his surprise, Thimeon tilted his head down as though staring into his beer. Hiding his face in the shadows of his own hair as best as he could, he continued to watch her. So she had not been captured. What was she doing here? What had she been doing the past several days? How had she escaped from the palace? For a moment, his curiosity about her drove the other bigger questions from his mind.

  After studying her face, he turned his attention to the two men with her. One looked to be about twenty. He had brown curly hair and a familiar-looking nose and chin. Despite a thick and taller-than-average frame, he slouched in his chair and had an uneasy expression that made him look smaller than he was.

  The other man at the table, Thimeon realized to his dismay, wore the uniform of a soldier. In the smoke and shadows, Thimeon had not seen the uniform at first. The sight of it gave him another twinge of uneasiness. To his relief, however, the man did not look at all familiar. He was at least forty years of age, but judging from the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray on his thinning hair and unshaven face, he might have been closer to sixty. Thimeon convinced himself it was not one of Golach’s men, and he resisted the urge to leave. With Golach and his company gone, as rumors told, he was unlikely to be recognized by anyone in Citadel. No one other than Dhan and Siyen.

  And there sat Siyen, just a few feet in front of him. He wanted to speak with her, find out what she knew. But he had no idea what she would do if she saw him. He did not believe she would betray him, yet she had abandoned the company. No, it was better not to be seen. At least for now. And why was she meeting with this soldier? All the more reason to be cautious.

  Still, he had an urge to find out what they were talking about. Siyen didn’t appear to have noticed him yet. Even as he thought this, however, she turned her head and looked around the room. Thimeon quickly raised the mug again before their eyes met. Then, with his lips on the rim of his mug and his face hidden behind the glass, he had a brief argument with himself. Should he indulge his curiosity, or just get up and leave? As he had said to Lluanthro, there were no chance meetings. But what if she recognized him? Would she turn him in?

  His curiosity won. Keeping his face hidden and his movements inconspicuous, he moved to the other side of the table, keeping his back to her and his ears closer to her conversation. He forced himself to choke down a few sips of bad beer while trying to overhear what she said.

  Siyen and the two men spoke in low voices. Thimeon inched his chair backward. “There is enough for all three of us,” Siyen said.

  “It had better be a lot for what you’re asking me to do,” the older of the men said.

  “Show him,” the younger one said. There was a momentary delay and some fiddling. Then the sound of a bag clinking down on the table followed by a low whistle.

  “I bet that’s worth a fortune,” the older man said.

  “You bet right,” Siyen answered. “And there’s enough in there for us each to walk away with a bag twice this size.”

  “You can retire and be rich for life,” the young male said.

  Their voices grew quieter, and Thimeon could hear the bag being put away. He had already guessed what Siyen had just shown the others for he had seen the object himself about a week earlier—one of the bits of treasure from the very chamber he sought. Though for a very different reason, if he guessed correctly what the three of them were up to.

  Still, an idea was forming. He let it simmer a while longer as he continued to listen. Siyen did most of the talking, but the other two asked occasional questions or made comments. Their tones were so hushed that, as close as he was, Thimeon could barely hear them over the din of the room. He had to guess at several words and phrases. Yet the gist of the conversation became clear enough. How could they get into the palace? How would they find the treasure? How would they get it out? How would they sell it?

  “You get us into the room, and we’ll get the stuff,” Siyen said. “I know how to get into the secret passage. And you needn’t worry about getting your share. We won’t cheat you. There’s plenty to go around.”

  More conversation followed, but the voices fell so low that Thimeon could no longer hear them from
where he sat. He inched back a little farther, but to no avail. Sometime later the soldier rose, wished the other two a good evening, promised to take care of his job, and departed. When he had walked out the door, Thimeon took his chance. He rose to his feet, spun his chair around, and moved it over to the table where the conversation had taken place. He sat back down with his face just two feet away from Siyen’s.

  The young man with dark curly hair rose. “Who the—?” he started to ask, but he fell silent when folks at neighboring tables turned to stare. Once more, Thimeon looked the young man over quickly. Despite his earlier slouching, he was tall and sturdy of build. Still, he didn’t exude the same sort of strength or confidence as the Northlanders.

  Thimeon turned to Siyen. Her eyes widened. “Thimeon!” she exclaimed after a momentary shock of recognition.

  Thimeon said nothing. The former companions stared at each other for several seconds. The young man, when it became obvious that Thimeon and Siyen were acquainted, sat back down. His eyes darted about the room, and his right hand twitched, but he said nothing.

  Siyen spoke first. “It wasn’t what you think. I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “You don’t need to explain,” Thimeon replied. “I’m not here to judge you.”

  “You know him, I take it?” the man asked. He looked Thimeon over more closely. Then recognition flashed on his face. “You were also one of the prisoners!”

  Thimeon tensed immediately. So he was recognized. Recognized as one of Golach’s prisoner’s. But he didn’t panic. Also one of the prisoners, he had said. So he knew Siyen was an escapee, and he hadn’t turned her in. So he didn’t serve the king or Golach. Indeed, he was about to rob the palace treasure chambers. So Thimeon had some confidence he would not do anything to draw the attention of soldiers.

  Thimeon took a slow breath and relaxed. He decided to go ahead with the gamble. “I’m in on your plan.” He didn’t phrase it as a question or request. It was a statement.

  At once the man objected. “We don’t need anybody else.”

  Siyen put her hand to her head as if in pain or concentration. “Be quiet.”

  “I’m telling you we don’t need—”

  “Lyn! Be quiet.”

  Thimeon gave Siyen a minute to think before speaking. “I know what you’re up to. You want to go back for the treasure. I’m going with you. I might even be able to help.”

  Siyen lifted her head. “The company? Is it . . . ? Are they . . . ?”

  “They still seek the Daegmon,” Thimeon replied. “I’ve left them.”

  “You?” Siyen asked. The look on her face was part relief and part dismay.

  “Siyen,” the man named Lyn said in a low but insistent voice. “We don’t need anybody else. We aren’t interested in dividing the rewards farther.”

  Thimeon turned to the speaker. “Lyn, is it?” He extended his hand in greeting. Lyn did not respond. Thimeon put his hand down and continued. “I’m not giving you a choice. If you try to carry out your plan without me, I will find a way to warn the guards.”

  Siyen breathed a sigh of relief. She straightened her shoulders and turned to the young man. “Lyn, this is Thimeon. He is going to join us. I have no doubt he will be able to help. But whether he can or not, I gather he is leaving us no choice. As to the spoils of this adventure, I’m sure that even with four of us there will be no shortage.”

  “I’m not interested in the treasure,” Thimeon said.

  Siyen’s jaw lowered, and her brows lifted in surprised. “Not interested? But—”

  “I left the company. I didn’t abandon them. I am still needed, and I have a job to do. There are books in that ancient treasury that may help our cause. Possibly even weapons. I believe they hold the key to defeating the Daegmon. I intend to find out. You can keep the treasures to yourselves, if that is what you care about.”

  11

  NEWS EXCHANGED

  The setting sun was a dirty purple behind the smoke from Citadel’s countless chimneys as Thimeon made his way back to the Green Pearl. After departing the Dagger’s Water, he had found his way over the Rain along Over Street, and stopped briefly at Midnight’s Blue. There he had enjoyed the soulful and sometimes sad singing of a lovely blond woman strumming a harp, accompanied by a dark-haired man on an Anghatte finger lute. He had also consumed a memorable pint of chocolate brown ale to wipe out the taste left in his mouth from the previous tavern. But he had learned nothing new there. The guests were more interested in the woman’s singing and the beer than in any gossip. After a particular moving song about a long lost brother, he left, resisting the temptation to forget his own troubles and spend the night listening to music.

  The four Aënporters were waiting for him when he arrived back at their lodging. Lluanthro and his brother had returned a few minutes earlier. They sat in the common room for a while, eating an evening meal and conversing with the other guests. Then, under the guise of going to sleep, they went to their room to talk in private.

  “I hope your trip proved more successful than ours,” Lluanthro sighed after they had closed and latched the door. The two younger men were now awake, playing a game of chance with ten-sided die.

  “You couldn’t find who you wanted?” Thimeon asked.

  “We couldn’t even get into the castle,” Augnoustico answered.

  Athropas, who was about to roll the die, lowered his hand in shock. “You’ve never been turned away from the gate, father.”

  “Never before today,” Lluanthro concurred. He went on to explain that he and Augs had been forced to wait in the courtyard while a messenger—one he’d had to pay dearly—had delivered a message. “I didn’t even know who I should send the message to. I took a lucky guess at a duke I thought might be in Citadel instead of at his own estate. Fortunately my guess paid off, though I had a long wait before he arrived.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “About the only thing I learned is that the duke still has a beautiful and self-absorbed wife for whom he is willing to keep buying pearls. He paid good money for the two I had with me, and made arrangements to see another. Unfortunately he will meet me here instead of at the castle. As for other contacts, most of the nobles with whom I have done business in the past have become scarce. And for good reason. Koranth is said to be running the palace now, and corruption has become the rule. Things work by bribe and by fear and by force.”

  “It’s all one,” Thimeon said. The others looked at him curiously until he explained. “The corruption of Koranth and the destruction wrought by the Daegmons. Koranth is one with them, and king Eughbran is allied with them too, or at least he is under their control.”

  “So you’ve told me,” Lluanthro said, shaking his head sadly. “Which reminds me. There is one thing of interest I learned. The prince is in the dungeon. He was arrested two days ago for betraying the king.”

  Thimeon shook his head sadly. “That’s a bad piece of news, for sure, but not a complete surprise. It confirms a rumor we heard here within an hour of our arrival.”

  “You know the prince, then? Or you think well of him.”

  With the prince in the dungeon already, Thimeon had no more reason to keep his secret. He told Lluanthro the rest of the story. “I didn’t tell you this before because I thought it better if fewer people knew. Prince Dhan aided our escape.”

  The merchant nodded. “I was curious whether somebody inside helped you. As resourceful as you may be, your escape was no small task.”

  “Apparently some other people guessed that,” Thimeon lamented.

  “Yes,” Lluanthro agreed. “The one good news is that the prince’s enemies were still afraid to move openly against him. His arrest was supposedly a secret one. Of course rumors spread.”

  “Why was his arrest a secret?” Athropas wondered aloud. “Several travelers around the inn asked where he was. Some thought he was
away at battle.”

  “Prince Dhan is still popular among the people,” the father answered, “and there might have been a small revolt against the king if news of his arrest became widely known.”

  “He does have followers?” Thimeon asked. “Can we find them? If we knew whom to contact, we might be able to get them to help us.”

  “We’ll need help from somebody.” Lluanthro sighed.

  “We will,” Thimeon said. “Because now, in addition to getting into that ancient treasure chamber, I also need to find a way to rescue the prince.”

  Lluanthro’s jaw dropped for a moment. “I like you,” he muttered, “but you’re out of your mind.”

  “I’m surprised to hear myself say that. Until just a minute ago, it wasn’t in my plans. I had heard the rumors and guessed—or at least feared—what had befallen him. But it wasn’t my task. I had come for something else. But now, I don’t think I have a choice. He’s in prison because of the help he gave to us. Furthermore, he may also be our best ally in Citadel.”

  “If he did oppose Koranth,” Augs commented, “then he was destined for arrest eventually. The timing of his arrest coming after your escape may have been coincidence. Nothing you need to take the blame for.”

  “Maybe. But when the arrest happened, it was probably on our account. I will help him if I can.”

  “We must help too, Father,” Athropas said. “Remember what you said about Lluach’s choice. ‘It would be better to die—’”

  “I know, I know.” Lluanthro interrupted impatiently, before his son could finish. He looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling, and then scratched his head. He took a long look at his son and turned to his brother. Finally he smiled. “I should have guessed we were in for an adventure the moment we met this fellow on the road. You know, I’ve been thinking for the past several months. I don’t think an honest merchant will be able to stay in business much longer. Maybe it’s time I gave up my work for a spell and did something a little more exciting.” He turned to Thimeon. “You can count on me for whatever help is in my power to give.”