King's man and thief cov-2

by Christie Golden

  After a time, another, softer sound was heard over the lull of the ocean. It was a rhythmic splashing noise, and Allika now saw that the big ship had dispatched a dinghy. It came closer, and the little girl could see that there were two men and some kind of crate in the smaller boat. At the same moment, she heard feet walking just above her. Sand, stirred up by the booted feet of the people above, sifted down to land in her short black hair. Silently, she tried to brush it out with one hand, listening intently.

  "It's about damn time." The harsh, booming voice, loud even when its owner was trying to be quiet, was familiar to Allika. It was Wolf.

  "Quiet," hissed another voice. That was Raven. Clearly, they were here to meet the little boat. Who was in it? What were they there for? Her curiosity now well and truly aroused, Allika got to her feet. Dragging Miss Lally behind her, she moved cautiously to the edge of the pier. If she moved just so, she could see up, catch a glimpse of her two fellow thieves.

  The splashing was closer now. Allika strained to see who was in the boat, but the man saved her the effort.

  "It's as I promised," came Hound's voice. Allika narrowed her eyes. What was Hound doing in a ship from Mhar? "A sign of good faith. Here-help me get it up onto the pier. And by all the gods, be careful. We don't want to drop it!"

  There was much grunting and splashing as a box was heaved up from the boat onto the dock. Allika peered up, trying to catch a glimpse through the cracks in the boards. She stifled a grunt of pain as sand showered on her face, getting into her eyes. She knuckled the grit out of her watering eyes, listening hard.

  Something made angry, chittering noises. Allika's curiosity grew. Some kind of animal? What in Verold was going on up there? The little girl followed the scraping and scratching sounds of the box being dragged the length of the pier. There was no more talking. Then, with a grunt, Wolf and Hound hoisted the box and moved onto the main streets. Allika scrambled out from under the pier, losing her footing in the soft sand.

  Keeping them in sight, she followed, a silent little shadow. The thieves were silent, wary. Hound and Raven kept glancing about furtively. Allika shrank back from the look on Raven's face, caught for a moment in the silvery moonlight. Something was happening to Raven. Allika had never liked her much to begin with, but now that dislike was growing, backed by a fear of something the child couldn't articulate. She licked dry lips, tasting sand, and knew that if Raven caught her spying on them like this, something very, very bad would happen to her.

  Fortunately, now that they were entering the winding streets, there were more shadows in which the child could hide. She was able to move closer, get a good look at the crate, memorizing every feature. It seemed to be simple enough-a large wooden box. If it housed an animal, it would have to be something the size of a small dog. But why would Raven want to steal an animal?

  For an instant, Allika's childish imagination concocted something exotic, like a baby mountain cat, or a fabulous creature out of legend. Perhaps this was the king's special pet, stolen in order to exact a bribe. And then another thought struck her, sobering her at once: The cries and noises could have issued from the throat of a kidnapped child-a child just like her.

  Unconsciously Allika folded Miss Lally just a little bit tighter in her embrace.

  The three thieves stopped over a sewer grate. Wolf and Hound carefully set down the box, handling it as if it contained something fragile and valuable. Then the two men set to work heaving aside the grate, while a clearly nervous Raven kept watch. Allika pressed her back against the stone wall of a building, hardly daring to breathe.

  "This whole damn thing doesn't sit well with me," grumbled Wolf as he rose, panting. "It doesn't have to," snapped Raven icily. "I am the Chosen. You serve me, Freylis, not the other way around."

  Wolf growled. "Without your mad priest to protect you, bitch — " He moved forward menacingly. Allika whimpered, softly, her eyes going big with terror. She tried to make herself invisible, but could not tear her gaze from the scene.

  Hound smoothly stepped between them. "Our fight is not with each other," he soothed. "Let's set the thing loose and be gone before we're discovered. If we waste time arguing, we may lose all!" "Khem is right," said Raven. "Let's hurry up and get out of here."

  Now the two men eased the crate forward, close to the opening of the sewer. Hound produced a metal tool of some sort and began to open the crate. At the final sound of tearing wood, the three leaped aside.

  Nothing emerged.

  Wolf peered down and swore. "Another damn box. What in the Nightlands is this, Khem, some kind of Mharian puzzle-game?"

  "Security, I think," replied Hound absently. "I told you — this is quite the weapon." "So you say. But how do we get the thing down there?" asked Wolf.

  Hound flashed Wolf an angry look, but said nothing. Instead, he set to work disassembling the innocuous-looking crate. He tossed pieces of wood down into the sewer as they came loose. After a moment, Wolf joined in. Raven watched for a moment, then moved away. Tension radiated from her. She hunched her shoulders and tucked her hands under her arms as she glanced first one way, then the other.

  "This is taking too much time," she hissed between clenched teeth. "I'm going to take a look around. You two are making enough noise to rouse the Nightlands King himself."

  Wolf uttered a careless epithet, and Raven moved off. She sprinted down the alley, peered out, then returned.

  Allika bit back a whimper. Now Raven was heading her way! Desperately the girl crouched back further, wishing there was a pile of refuse in which to hide. But there was nothing on this street, save the shadows themselves.

  Raven moved closer with a steady pace.

  "Got it," came Hound's voice laced with triumph.

  Raven halted, wavered between continuing to investigate the length of the alley and returning to help her compatriots. If Raven moved another two yards down the street, Allika knew, she'd be close enough to penetrate the shadows that were Allika's only disguise.

  After a moment that seemed like an eternity to the terrified girl, Raven whirled with a fluid movement and hastened back. Allika breathed again. She dared now to move a little, strain for a better view.

  And gasped softly.

  Inside the crate was a second box. It was as unlike the workaday crate as the sun at midday was to a dying ember. Allika guessed it was two feet long and over a foot wide. It was smooth wood, exquisitely carved and painted with symbols. None of them were familiar to Allika. It was clearly an item of value. The girl frowned and rubbed at her eyes. She must be more tired than she had thought, for it seemed to her the box was… glowing softly.

  "I confess, Khem, I doubted," said Raven softly. "I doubt no more." She turned a beautiful smile on him and gripped his shoulder. He returned the grin. Wolfs frown deepened as he watched them, but he said nothing.

  "I would not let it out now," said Hound. "Let's damage the box, and let it make its own way out."

  "Good idea," said Raven. With his metal tool, Khem loosened the nails that held the front of the box closed. The creature inside-Allika was sure now that it was an animal, not a child-hissed and scrabbled at the confining wood, and the box rocked softly. All the thieves jumped back.

  What was in that box? Something that was able to scare three grown-ups, that was for sure. Hound stepped forward and loosened the wood a little bit more. The thing inside raged now, and even as far away as she was, Allika could hear it beginning to gnaw on the wood.

  "That's good enough," said Raven. "Push it down."

  They began to shove the ornate box toward the sewer hole. With a final push, it went over the edge. Allika heard it crack as it hit.

  "Excellent," said Raven, peering down. "That shattered the box. It's sure to work its own way out now. Come on, let's-"

  They froze. All of them, even Allika crouched unseen in the darkness, could hear the muted sound of voices heading in this direction.

  "Guards," hissed Raven. "Let's go. Now."

 
Hound glanced back. 'The grate…"

  "Leave it. Let's go!"

  They vanished into the shadows as if they had never been. All that was left to mark their presence was the open sewer hole cover.

  Allika wasn't overly worried. If the guards happened upon her, she'd just start to cry and claim she was lost. They'd have pity on her and give her food and a warm place to sleep until the morning- by which time, of course, Allika would be long gone. She'd done it before, sometimes even on purpose. As long as the guards of Braedon didn't catch her with her little hand inside someone's pocket, she had discovered that could manipulate them as she chose.

  But the booted footsteps and low talk died away without ever venturing down the alley. She waited a few moments longer, just to make sure that neither they nor the thieves were returning, then propped Miss Lally up on her bent knees.

  "What do you think was in that box, Miss Lally?"

  "Hm, I don't know, Allika. Let's be brave and find out! I bet Fox would want to know."

  Her mind made up, Allika rose and walked softly over toward the open sewer entrance. Kneeling a safe distance away from the edge, she peered down.

  The faint light of distant torches and moon's glow revealed nothing save some faint shapes. Allika frowned and scooted closer, angling her body so that she didn't block what light there was. Still nothing.

  She plopped Miss Lally down near the edge, so that the doll could see, too, then stretched down on her stomach and edged forward an inch at a time, propelling her small body with toes and hands. Now her head was over the opening. Still, she could see nothing. Growing impatient, she also grew daring and leaned down, securing herself with her hands.

  Something moved, and then two points of red light glittered up at her.

  Startled, Allika gasped and flailed, trying to move back away from whatever was down there. One hand knocked into Miss Lally, and the little rag doll tumbled down, head over heels, to land with a soft plop in the sludgy water.

  "Miss Lally!" cried Allika, heedless of the noise. She suddenly had a vision, of soft hands and a kind voice; a remembrance of a brand new Miss Lally, white and clean and unstained: You must take good care of her, site's your baby.

  "Miss Lally," said Allika again, her voice a whimper now. Tears filled her eyes, dropped down twenty feet into the filthy water beneath. Miss Lally was made of light material; Allika had no trouble seeing her.

  Again a movement, a flash of two red lights.

  Allika sobbed brokenly. What was she going to do? Miss Lally was twenty feet below the surface, down there with that… whatever it was that Raven and Hound and Wolf had put there. But Allika couldn't just leave her. Miss Lally was her baby; she had to take good care of her.

  She wiped her eyes with a dirty hand, forcing them to clear. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Allika whispered bravely, "I'm coming, Miss Lally."

  The shaft that led down to the sewers was about three feet wide. Allika pulled off her ragged boots and swung her body around so that she would be descending feet first. Small, strong toes groped for crevices, protrusions, anything to ease her passage downward. Allika forced herself not to think of the thing down there in the dirt and dark, but only of Miss Lally. Slowly, she lowered herself, her small, soft mouth pursed in a grim line of concentration. The rocks were not smooth, and she was able to find purchase.

  She was hanging by her hands now, and it took a great effort to move them down to the holds that had secured her feet. By leaning back, Allika was able to wedge herself in more securely and inch her way down.

  She had already gone several feet. The rock was unforgiving and tore her already ragged clothing, left bruises and scrapes on her soft, pale skin. Allika paid it no attention. The main thing was getting down to Miss Lally, and finding her, and getting back to the docks where she could get out without running into that thing that was down there and The slippery walls turned traitor. Allika's feet shot out and she fell. There wasn't even time to scream before she landed, on her back, in six inches of filthy water and at least two soft, squishy inches of waste matter. The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped like a fish, splashing. Her shoulders and tailbone hurt, and as she flopped herself over and tried to stumble to her feet, her ankle shrieked in white-hot protest and she fell.

  But Miss Lally was right there, smiling up at her with her faded, painted face. Allika's breath came back and she sobbed with joy as she seized her beloved toy, now soaked with filthy water. She sat in the sludgy water, clasping the doll tightly, completely oblivious to everything save her dear, sweet Miss Lally.

  "I will take good care of you," she whispered fiercely.

  Something moved in the dark, inches away. Memory returned and Allika's small body went taut. The thing. It was still down here. It was down here with her in the darkness.

  Again, she tried to rise. Her ankle wasn't broken, but it was twisted badly. Clutching the saturated toy, she managed to make it to her feet. Every instinct was crying out, telling her to run, but she couldn't run. Instead, she found a weapon-a length of nail-studded wood from the crate used to house the thing.

  "Where are you?" she called, sounding as brave as she could. "You're not gonna hurt me or Miss Lally."

  A soft splash came behind her. She whirled unsteadily, and yelped, horrified.

  It sat in the square of light that came from the street above, barely a yard away from the little girl. The thing was a rat-enormous, as bit as a cat, bigger, and pitch black, save for its eyes, which burned in the dark like two hot coals. It was sitting up on its haunches, regarding her evenly. As she stared back, one ear twitched.

  Then, with no warning and no sound, it sprang, leaping for the soft flesh of her face. Allika stumbled backward, swinging the nail-studded slat with all of her wiry, seven-year-old strength. It caught the rat in the side, and the creature squeaked in agony and rage. It came again, and this time managed to sink sharp yellow teeth into Allika's upper arm. She screamed and lashed out, slamming the wood on its head. The blow, though not as strong as an adult's, ought to have been enough to crush the thing's skull, but the rat darted away. As it vanished into the darkness, Allika saw something painted in white on its back.

  It was two lines, one long, one shorter. The shorter line bisected the longer line about three quarters of the way down its length. The symbol was somehow familiar to Allika, but at the moment, in her pain and terror, she couldn't place it. For a moment she stood, panting, clutching the wooden slat like a club, her ears straining for a telltale splash that indicated the thing had returned to renew its attack. She heard nothing.

  "Think we chased it away?" she asked Miss Lally.

  "We sure did!" she said in a higher voice, speaking for the doll. "You're wonderful, Allika! I knew you'd come save me."

  Turning, the little girl took a deep breath. She was almost a half a mile away from the port; a half mile from the nearest place where she could scramble out of the sewers as they opened into the sea. Low tide would be coming soon. If she didn't make it, she'd be trapped.

  "Come on, Miss Lally. Let's go find Fox."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Unkind thoughts breed like rats in the darkness; but good thoughts grow like the oldest of trees.

  — Mharian folk saying

  Tap, tap, tap. Deveren tossed in his sleep. Kastara wanted him to get up for some reason, but the bed linens were so warm and comfortable…

  Tap, tap. More insistent now. "Love, what is it?"

  And with the sound of his own voice, soft and sleepy, he came fully awake and realized that it was not Kastara tapping on his shoulder, trying to rouse him; would never be Kastara, not ever again, and even as the grief resettled upon his heart he was fully alert.

  Tap, tap, tap!

  Something was rattling on the glass panes of his solar window with a regularity that put the thief leader instantly on his guard. This was no random clatter of tree limbs in the wind, and the memory of his attempted murder flashed starkly in his mind.


  Moving in silence, Deveren pushed aside the curtains that shrouded his bed and glanced about. There was no one in the room with him. He reached for the knife he kept beneath the bed and swung his legs out onto the floor. His feet sank into the thick sheepskin.

  Tap, tap, rattle.

  That was it. Someone was outside, throwing stones up against the window, trying to get his attention. While this deduction brought some relief, Deveren did not drop his guard. It could yet be a decoy. Quickly tugging on a pair of breeches, Deveren moved toward the window and cautiously peered out.

  Allika stood on the ground beneath, her ubiquitous doll clutched in one hand. She was in the process of gathering more stones, and Deveren saw that one little hand was clenched around a rock that was significantly larger than the pebbles she had tossed up hitherto. The child was clearly growing impatient.

  She pulled her hand back as if to toss the stone when she saw his face. Her own was a pale blur in the moonlight, but when Deveren waved, signaling that he had noticed her, she waved back. Quickly she disappeared into the shadows, moving toward the library, where she would not be seen.

  Deveren lit a lamp from the fire that had burned to embers in the bedroom. He quickly shrugged into a fur robe, stepped into slippers, and rapidly descended the stone stairs. As he hurried past the dining room, he paused long enough to grab a peach for the little girl, then continued to the library.

  She was there, outside, crouched up against the wall. As he entered, she turned to the window. Her face was not the lively, cheerful visage he was used to seeing; rather she reminded him of a small, forlorn little ghost.

  Quickly Deveren opened the window and helped the little girl inside. His hand closed on her arm, trying to maneuver her, and she uttered a sharp, pained ejaculation and jerked out of his grasp. Surprised, Deveren glanced down-and gasped himself at the ugly wound on the child's soft flesh. "Sit down," he said, "and let's take care of this first thing."

  "Here, let me," came Damir's voice. Deveren's head whipped around and he saw, to his annoyance, that his brother stood in the doorway. Like Deveren, Damir was only partially dressed, but he was clearly awake and alert. He moved to the little girl, who ducked away from him, burying her face against Deveren's thigh.