“A gnome who has displeased his prince and been for a time exiled; he cannot wear his princedom’s uniform, and he is usually sent on a mission of some importance, which, when fulfilled, will restore him to his position. Dattur—that’s his name—says it is painful to be apart from his people and those who understand the Law. Though I know he will not lie on my behalf, you may not be certain, and thus I tell you he considers himself in my service.”
Selfer fiddled with a quill not yet trimmed to a pen, rolling it back and forth in his fingers. “What are your plans, then?”
“May I sit?” When Selfer nodded, the man—Arvid, Burek reminded himself—moved one of the chairs a little and sat down, flipping back the corner of his cloak as if to free the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. The cloak, however, hung as if something other than cloth were in its making. Burek sat in one of the other chairs, where he could watch Arvid’s hands. “I am not sure,” Arvid said. “When I survived the death they planned for me, my thought was to come back to Valdaire, take my vengeance on the Guild’s local master, retrieving the letter the Marshal-General had given me, supposing it to be still intact, and then go in search of the item.”
“And now?”
“The Guild knows that I traveled with a gnome … they captured us both. So it is necessary to go in disguise—these clothes—and we do not go about together. I would prefer not to be captured again.”
“How did you escape?” Burek asked. “Did your gnome companion free you?”
Arvid explained. Selfer imagined himself in that dilemma and wondered if he’d have been able to get free. Certainly not without someone who could provide shelter: open the rock? It seemed incredible, and the man was, after all and despite his denials, a thief and no doubt a liar.
“It’s a long story, how we made it back to Valdaire,” Arvid said, “and since then, I’ve been acting the merchant and listening for word of that item.”
“Have you heard nothing?”
“Nothing. I cannot go into places thieves frequent—as a merchant I would have no reason to do so—and no one’s mentioned the item in the Dragon. I suspect it was transported past Valdaire quickly.”
Selfer considered asking how a man and a gnome with no employment could afford to stay at the Dragon but decided against it. Instead, he said, “So … there’s apparently some secret passage through the mountains, other than the Valdaire pass, known to gnomes … and this item in Aarenis that’s been stolen. Burek, would the Count be likely to hear of it?”
“No … Andressat’s off the Guild League routes. My guess is that if it’s not still in Valdaire, it’s already with Alured. I can’t think who else would have sent thieves for it.”
“I’m not sure that’s accurate,” Arvid said. “I handled the item myself, remember—it is beautiful and obviously valuable. Any professional or amateur thief might make a try for it just for that. So might a wealthy person. In my experience, wealthy merchants and nobles are not necessarily free of avarice.” Selfer said nothing in response, and after a moment Arvid went on. “In addition, the item is connected to other items.”
“So it was surmised,” Selfer said.
“Yes. And did you also know that when the Marshal-General and Paksenarrion herself tried to move the other items from the king’s treasury, they could not? And the chest sealed itself and would no longer open? I did not see this but was told by the Marshal-General.”
“Where is Paks?” Selfer asked suddenly.
“I do not know that, either. She was expected to arrive with the Marshal-General in Fin Panir a day or so after I did, but according to the Marshal-General, one day she simply left, riding off to the south.”
Selfer frowned. “I still do not quite see how this has to do with my command,” he said. “The mystery of the secret passage, yes. We will need to talk to Laris and Gannin. If they did not merely dream it while dozing in the saddle, it means that something clouded my memory and that of all the others. Why would those two have knowledge?”
“Dattur says such ways are very secret and the gnomes would have cleared the knowledge from your minds; he was very upset when I told him what I’d heard. I believe his greatest concern was that they might try to find the opening again, perhaps only out of curiosity. It would be deadly, he said.”
“If Alured found it and could get through,” Burek said, “that would be a great advantage to him. Surely Tsaia has guards to the north of the pass—”
“Indeed, though not at the pass, as that is still in gnomish territory,” Selfer said. “We need to know where both ends of the secret way are—and how strong the gnomes are. I know—I think I remember—that we told the gnomes we met of possible danger from the south, so they will be alert, at least.”
“But they’re only gnomes—how big an army do they have?” Burek asked.
“Only gnomes?” Selfer said. “How can you—oh, you rarely see them here in the south, and then only the merchants. Burek, they are the hardiest of fighters, and it is from them that Gird Strongarm learned both law and warfare. It would not take many gnomes to defend an entrance to the underground, I’m thinking. But if such exists, and the location is known, they will not be pleased with us for having revealed it. If that is what happened.”
“One of my concerns,” Arvid said, “is the welfare of those soldiers who do remember. The spies’ interest tells me that someone is looking for a secret way north—and if there’s enough money behind such a goal, your people could be abducted and the information squeezed from them.” He turned to Burek. “Even you, Captain, as Harnik mentioned a young captain having seen something that could fit with the earlier story.”
“What do you want in exchange for this information?” Selfer asked.
“Nothing,” Arvid said. “Or rather, your silence about my real identity and, should you hear anything about the item, perhaps that.”
“Hmmm.” Selfer leaned back in his chair. “Are you willing to stay while I talk to the two veterans you mentioned?”
“Yes,” Arvid said.
“Burek, bring them here, please.”
“At once,” Burek said. Once outside, he wondered if he should have left Selfer alone with that obviously dangerous man. Arvid Semminson … a northern sort of name. And that cloak, though obviously made by a local tailor, hung like no cloak that tailor ever made. And the way he sat, in a way that would have cleared a sword-hilt if he’d worn one. Surely Selfer would realize there must be weapons hidden in that cloak or up a sleeve. He almost turned back to send someone else, but saw his targets coming out of the mess hall and called to them.
Back in the office, the two veterans showed no uneasiness at Selfer’s summons.
“Did you ever see this man before?” Selfer asked, tilting his head toward Arvid, who turned to look them in the face.
Gannin nodded. “Yes, sir. Some nights ago, the time Vic won a wager against that big woman in the Blues, me and Laris here was talking, and he warned us of a spy. He was wearing black at the time—both of ’em, I mean, the man he said was a spy, and himself as well, and me and Laris thought maybe they was working something together, so we gathered up a group to walk back with and nothing happened. But if he’s telling you we talked Company business, no sir, we did not.”
“Laris?”
“Same, sir. This man went out to the jacks, and coming back he stumbled into the one he said was listening, he said to get a look at his face. Man was angry, tried to start a fight. This’un wouldn’t, and t’other stomped out wi’out payin’. He paid for him and a jug for us, but we didn’t drink it—shared it out.”
“He didn’t come to complain of you,” Selfer said, tenting his fingers. “But to tell me about that spy and another, who was listening to Harnik last night. Harnik was drunk—”
“Wasn’t the first time, sir.”
“No. But my concern is something else. When we came down from the north, we met a party of gnomes as we neared the pass—it was late for caravans, you recall.”
&
nbsp; “Yes, sir.”
Burek felt the tension that suddenly filled the room. He glanced at Arvid but saw no change in expression or posture. The two soldiers, though, were standing stiff now, faces too expressionless.
“You were heard—twice, once by this man and once by Captain Burek—saying something about a secret passage.”
Laris reddened; Gannin paled. Burek tucked away those reactions for later use.
“I have no memory of passing through the mountain,” Selfer said. “But apparently you do. Or so you indicated. And Captain Burek believes he saw something on the mountain that afternoon before the clouds came down and it started snowing. Captain Harnik told him it must be goats, but I’m wondering—what do you remember?”
The two stared straight ahead, then Laris spoke. “Well … sir … we was just … like … it might not be real, after all …”
“Spit it out, Laris.”
“Do you remember camping near the entrance to the gnome prince’s hall? And you and Count Andressat going in to talk to the prince?” Laris asked.
Selfer looked shocked. “No. And you do?”
“Yes, sir,” Gannin said, nodding. “ ’Twas our turn to fill jacks next morning, me and Laris, with them gnomes watching to be sure we made it all tidy, turf laid down and everything. We’s told they was rewarding the Count by taking us a faster way. I thought, back to the Valdaire trade road, but it wasn’t. Up the side of the mountain, in among rocks. Bad place for an ambush, I thought. But then straight into the mountain we went.”
“Into the mountain?”
“Yes, sir. And all as quiet as quiet. Nobody talked. I could hear the horses’ hooves cloppin’ along, of course, and sometimes water trickling somewhere. We stopped a time or two to eat, but even then, nobody talked.”
“Even us two,” Laris put in. “Looking around, ’most nobody looked anybody in the eye. We drank, we ate, we got back on the horses and rode on. Easy to doze off, and I know I did—”
“And me, too,” Gannin said. “But I kept trying to figure out which way we went in case something went wrong. Other ways led off of the way we went; I was trying to count shield-side and sword-side, the way we’re ’sposed to. Laris was next to me; he was looking around some, too, when he roused.”
“Couldn’t tell time,” Laris said. “No ladyglasses, no day and night. But for all we never went above a footpace, I’d swear it wasn’t more than a day, day and a half, before them gnomes said get off the horses, almost there, and then we come out into darkness, but outside. With a bit of dawnlight way off east and the mountains behind us. Gnomes said follow that trail, and we did, and no one spoke until we were back on the trail we knew, over the pass.”
“So when we got into quarters, and the chores done,” Gannin said, “I said to the sergeant, how about that for a change, and he said what did I mean, and I said going right through the mountain, and he said none of your wild stories, Gannin, you were just sleeping in the saddle.”
“Nobody remembers it but us two,” Laris said. “At least—the first ones we asked about it didn’t.” He looked at Gannin. “And Gannin here says it’s a way anyone might take if the gnomes weren’t there.”
“So it is,” Selfer said. “And I don’t recall a bit of it. But no more talk to the cohorts or down at the Dragon: it’s too important to be gossiped about. You’ll talk to me or Burek, or Lord Arcolin when he comes, so we can put down all you remember of the side passages, though I doubt we’ll ever see the place again. Aside from that, it is Company business. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. But I’m not sure I remember all of them.”
“Whatever you do remember. And be careful. This man thinks you may be in danger from those spies—might be taken and questioned by them.”
“You mean we can’t go down to the Dragon?”
“No. That would be punishment, and you’ve done nothing wrong. But go with a group and stay with the group. And no more talk. If anyone in town brings it up, however casually, report to me when you get back. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
The two saluted and left the office. Selfer gave Arvid a long, thoughtful stare, then said, “I have a proposition for you.”
Arvid’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing.
“You have done us—and perhaps Tsaia—a very good turn. Certainly I will not reveal your true identity abroad or to more than know it already, even in the Company. If I hear of the item, I will share that information with you. However, I would be interested in what you hear that might be pertinent to military actions. You are acting as a merchant, you say. What might you do in that line that we could use to give an excuse for coming here from time to time?”
Arvid smiled. “Thank you. Let me think … so far my commercial dealings have been small, as someone seeking to get a foothold in a new market.”
“Pots,” Burek said.
“Pots?” Selfer said. “We have pots enough.”
“When I went to Andressat and we were attacked,” Burek said, “some of our baggage had to be abandoned. Dort was killed, and a horse wounded. I remember now that I have not accounted for the smaller items left behind, including personal cooking gear.” He grinned. “I could of course send one of the men to the city to look for such things, but that exposes them to risk and also wastes their time. If this merchant can run that errand—testing his skill, too, that would be—then perhaps we can think of others.”
“How many?” Arvid asked. “And what size? New or used?”
Burek explained, and Arvid left shortly after.
“Did you really lose those pots?” Selfer asked.
“Yes,” Burek said. “Hadn’t thought of it until now. What do you think of him?”
“Arvid Semminson? Or Ser Burin? I’ll tell you something odd, Burek. He’s the one who got Paksenarrion out of the Thieves’ Guild warren … and Paks told Dorrin something about him. Thought he was gods-touched, she said. And that item—”
“Should you name it?” Burek asked.
“Possibly not, though this must be the safest place in Valdaire. But there’s trouble brewing on account of other … items … that the Duke found in the family house. That item Semminson followed is thought to be part of the set of those other items. And the Duke took those other items to the king’s coronation, where they made a stir when she gave them to the king.”
“And so Count Andressat goes north, worried about Alured. Does he know of this item?”
“He heard about it in the north. Wait—did he mention it to anyone while you were there?”
“I don’t think so. He might have told his sons.”
“Probably safe enough.”
Burek thought of the angry third son. “I’m not sure,” he said. “One of his sons seems to be the family troublemaker. He stormed off just before I left, angry that his father was acknowledging me.”
“But surely he wouldn’t go to Alured,” Selfer said. “And anyway, the king and the Duke know that rumors about the items had already spread through the markets in Vérella.”
“And might have reached Aarenis,” Burek said, nodding. “If it was known at the coronation, then word would have reached here within two tendays, easily. From there to Cortes Immer, supposing he was at Cortes Immer, certainly before the Autumn Evener. Faster if Alured—Vaskronin as he calls himself now—had spies out as far as the north.”
“Duke Verrakai thought he would,” Selfer said.
“So whatever these items are, they’re something he would want?”
“Oh, yes.” Selfer got up and poured mugs of sib for both of them, then opened the door, looked out, and closed it again. “You might as well know so if you hear gossip you can report it. Duke Verrakai found a hidden crown and other royal regalia. She gave it to the king in proof of her loyalty. The other item is a necklace believed to be part of that regalia, separated from it long ago—no one can imagine how—but the box that holds the rest had an empty compartment.”
“The necklace? I never saw it, but Paks described it to Phelan last winter—sapphires and diamonds.”
“You’re sure this Arvid didn’t take it and just lie about it?”
“Not completely, no. But I do know the Marshal-General had invited him to Fin Panir because she said so when she was visiting the Duke.”
“I suppose, if Vaskronin gets the necklace, he’ll use the stones to make himself a crown.”
“Maybe. But they think—the Duke, the Marshal-General—that he’s after the rest of it, to gain legitimacy for the claim that he’s the true heir to Old Aare—and thus Aarenis and the north both. That last year of Siniava’s War, he started saying a priest had told him that years ago.” Selfer took a long swallow of sib. “Ridiculous—it’s been generations and generations since there was a king in Aarenis. Nobody knows who might be, if anyone is. And Old Aare … nobody lives there now but a few pirates on the coast. What good would it do to claim the throne of a pile of rock and sand dunes?”
A knock on the door, and Poldin M’dierra peeked in. “Captain Selfer, Captain Ivats sent me to ask what your orders are for the rest of the day.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Selfer said. “Burek, I’ll give the early watch to Ivats, the late one to me. You’ve got the night off, but I don’t recommend a late stroll down to the Dragon.”
“No, sir,” Burek said. “I’ll start an inventory this afternoon, if you’d like to brief Ivats.”
“Good, then.”
Burek spent the rest of the day with Maia, the Company quartermaster, preparing the inventory Count Arcolin would need when he arrived from the north. Supper that evening at the officers’ table felt awkward until they were halfway through the hearty meal. Burek liked Ivats and the young M’dierra was eager to show himself useful, but Burek and Selfer could not discuss the topic that most interested them at the moment with the others present. Then Ivats sat back with a satisfied sigh.
“If I could borrow your cook to teach that fellow at our inn how to cook cut-legs …”
“Not a chance,” Selfer said, grinning. “We know what we have.”
Echoes of Betrayal Page 19