Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  "So you wish to prove you are a better man than Captain Zayne, or Mr. Hinterdale? Is that it?" Stalyart asked. A hint of a smile curled his lip. Stalyart always found a way to slip into a good mood if you did not keep him from it, Tanner noticed.

  Tanner spit on the cobbles—or tried—making a little wet hole in the fresh fallen snow. "Naw, gut both of 'em for all I care. Sorry if you're friends with Zayne, but I'm not. No, just sits wrong in my belly, being mixed up keeping a kid from his family. I got coin, I don't need more that bad."

  Birds filled the air, surprising neither man as they each checked the aether and found not a living bird among the flock. It was to be the last of the magician's tricks, and calls for donations followed. The edges of the crowd began to fray at once and drift away about their business.

  "That one there, the big one. That's Zell," Tanner said, and pointed to the hulking Acardian where he stood among the onlookers. He took Stalyart by the arm. "I don't want him spotting us, let's move."

  They moved parallel to the main road, slipping between buildings, heading in the direction they knew would take them to the rooming house where their quarry was staying. Progressively fewer people were seen walking along their way, as the spectators filtered out into the city. They waited until they caught sight of their three marks: Wendell, Zellisan, and the boy. Tanner got a look at him, and knew Anzik's twin at once. Once the trio has been lost from view, Tanner and Stalyart hustled to the next crossroad, and waited again.

  "Good, there they are again. They're heading back to their room," Tanner said. When they next lost sight of their quarry, they ran ahead, having made their guess about how much time they had before Anzik's twin was brought back safely to his room.

  * * * * * * * *

  The interior of the rooming house was all shades of graying, aged wood, the sort that splits gently apart over time, but rarely seems to crack on its own. A pudgy innkeeper with a stubble-gone-wild beard looked up from his napping chair. His eyes asked a question of them that his voice was too lazy to bother with.

  "A couple rooms for me and my friend here," Tanner said. He looked to a row of pegs on the wall; keys dangled from most, but not all. "Looks like 3A and 3C would do nicely."

  "You, no rooms together?" the innkeeper asked, rising from his chair with a squirming stretch to loosen his shoulders. Tanner was grateful the man spoke a bit of Acardian, since he had forgotten to even try his Takalish.

  Tanner shook his head in reply. "He snores," he answered, and gave a demonstration that drew a nod and a knowing chuckle from the innkeeper.

  "So who gets which room?" Stalyart asked on the stairs as they made their way up to the third floor.

  "Don't matter. We're going to 3C for now," Tanner replied. The stairs creaked at each step. Tanner varied his footing, center, left edge, right edge; the building was just too old to keep to itself. No sneak-jobs on these. Nice pick, Zell.

  Stalyart followed Tanner into room 3C, and pulled the door closed behind them. "You seemed quite certain of your actions, so I said nothing in front of the innkeeper. Now though, I must ask: what is this plan you have not shared?"

  "I didn't share it cuz I didn't know it til just then. Zell's gotta be makin' their arrangements, so I know how he'd pick a room. Nothin' on the first floor—too easy to break in. Nothin' above the second floor if you can help it—too high to jump if you need to get away quick. There were only three keys missing for the second floor, 2A, 2C, and 2F. I picked the two that were closest together, to avoid tippin' the innkeep off."

  "Your deductions seem reasonable, and I would trust you to know your associate's habits. What do we gain by trying to guess at rooms above theirs?" Stalyart asked. He sat down on the bed, set his hat on the bedside table, and unclasped his cloak, giving the impression that he had chosen his room.

  "Building's nice and regular; all the windows line up, one floor to the next. Saw so from outside. Zell picks the second floor so he can't get backed into a corner. Might be he even puts his bed in front of the door to block it," Tanner said. He pointed to the hinges on the door of their own room. "See? These open in. We're going to drop in from a rope. If we're lucky, we get the kid out without waking either of the two of them. Since I'm never lucky, I'm guessing we either have to knock 'em out or make a run for it."

  "How do we find their room without them spotting us? Surely their vision in the aether must be keener than either of ours," Stalyart asked.

  "Well, Zell can't see the aether at all, so no worries about him. Wendell, who knows? Neither of us stands out in the aether anyway. We could be anyone," said Tanner. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the bed beside Stalyart, and let his cloak drop to the floor. Tanner then parted the window shutters a fingersbreadth and looked out.

  "Your sword bears runes. That might separate us from the common stock about Takalia."

  Tanner looked down to the blade at his side. He pulled it halfway free of the scabbard, and gave it a glance. "This thing? Without Soria around to refill it, it went dry of aether days ago. Just you and me here, no swords to see. This thing might be dead steel a good long while if I can't find Soria or another twinborn with a strong enough Source."

  "What about the boy?" Stalyart asked.

  "Well now, look who's countin' his coins before the hand's dealt," Tanner teased.

  "No, I mean what if the boy sees us coming. If he is Anzik Fehr's twin, he can likely see the aether, I would think."

  "Hey, if Zayne's boy sees us coming, hopefully he has the sense to shut up if he recognizes me," Tanner said. "He oughtta trust me after gettin' him home on the other side."

  "Now who counts his winnings early, Mr. Tanner?"

  * * * * * * * *

  It turned out that it was room 3C that lay above the room where Wendell, Zell, and Anzik's twin were boarding. Tanner had spotted them coming, and the two men had retreated to their separate rooms until nightfall, under guise of an early slumber.

  Cloaks and hats were too cumbersome for rope work, and stayed behind in room 3C, except for one cloak that Stalyart carried in lieu of wearing. Their window opened out over an alley, and the building across the way had no window at all on the wall facing them. The ground below was unmarred snow, which made the dingy little back alley look innocent and fresh, and not at all like the scene of a kidnapping.

  Tanner climbed down first, and Stalyart followed soon after. They crept along the clapboards, Tanner angling his descent wide right of room 2C's window, and Stalyart taking the left approach. Tanner winced as his scabbard thumped against the building, pausing to listen for signs that he had been heard by the occupants.

  Nothing.

  When he brought himself level with the window, he wrapped the rope thrice around one wrist and freed up his other hand. He slid a knife between the shutter and caught the latch. Half an hour's practice on the one in his own room had seemed a child's game compared to doing it from the outside without seeing the device. With some finagling, he popped the little metal hook loose, and used the knife blade to pull the shutters open. Stalyart draped his cloak over the opening to keep the moonlight from preceding them into the room.

  Tanner set one foot on the sill, testing his weight upon the aged wood, and seeing if it would bear his intrusion in silence—it passed both tests. He took care to guide his scabbard through the window without further collision, and found that the floor near the window did not groan when he set himself down. So far, so good.

  Stalyart set his foot on the sill and looked inside, but he did not enter. He stayed with his cloak up, maintaining the shroud of darkness.

  A soft snoring from Tanner's left had to have been Wendell. The familiar, guttural growls from the far side of the room were almost as familiar as Zell's voice. Tanner gritted his teeth, and checked the aether briefly. He saw the aether-seeing helm of Zell's up against the door, and the healthy Source of Anzik's twin amid the blur, as well as the indistinct forms of Zell and Wendell. Tanner blinked back to normal vision, even though he could
hardly see his own hands.

  He felt along the bed that held Anzik's twin, until he found the sleeping form. He leaned close, until his face must have been a blade's thickness from the boy's ear.

  "Anzik. Anzik, if you can hear me, it's Tanner. I'm here to take your friend to his father. He has a ship you can live on. It's a water boat, but maybe someday you can teach it to fly," Tanner spoke in a whisper's whisper, barely audible even to his own ears. Tanner waited, preparing himself to repeat the message again, a bit louder.

  Anzik's twin sat bolt upright, sending Tanner scrambling to get out of his way. There was a creak of a floorboard, the rustling of bedclothes—and a sudden stop in the snoring.

  "Jadon, what are you ... WENDELL, GET UP!" Zell shouted. The big man scrabbled about for his swords, lying at his bedside. Light streamed into the room from the window, as steel rang free from Stalyart's scabbard, followed closely by Zell freeing his own blade.

  Tanner threw himself atop Jadon to escape the clash of swords in the middle of the room, pinning the boy to the bed under his weight. "It's all right, it's all right. We're here to rescue you," he babbled, in a frantic effort to comfort the startled boy.

  "What's going on?" Wendell demanded.

  "Zayne's thugs!" Zell yelled back. "Get the boy!"

  "Zell, no!" Tanner shouted. "Wait!"

  In his head, Tanner knew that Zell was probably the better fighter, veteran of a hundred crossings of blades. Stalyart knew what he was doing though, and had the advantage of surprise, of being fully awake, and of having the light at his back, revealing his opponent in more than just silhouette. And of course, Zell had also to contend with a trusted and familiar voice calling out to him, splitting his attention.

  Stalyart's blade slid into Zell's chest and came out dripping red.

  The huge man collapsed to the floor with a crack that told of a floorboard giving way under the impact. Blood began to pool beneath him immediately.

  "ZELL!" Tanner screamed. He abandoned the boy—Jadon—and went to his friend's side. With a strength borne of panic, he rolled Zell's massive frame from his side onto his back. His undershirt was soaked with blood, but his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched.

  "Zell, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry," Tanner told his dying friend. "We were just going to grab the boy and bring him back, I swear. You weren't even supposed to be up."

  Zell mouthed something, but had little breath to lend it. Tanner leaned close, putting his ear just in front of Zell's lips.

  "Mr. Tanner, where did Wendell go?" Stalyart asked. The pirate stood looking around him. He waved his bloody sword around above the bed, finding no resistance.

  "Whoreson of a magician," Tanner swore through gritted teeth. He went to the window and looked down. The fresh fallen snow betrayed a trail of footprints, still actively appearing out of nowhere, heading down the alley.

  Tanner took the revolving pistol from its holster, and pulled back the hammer. Taking careful aim, he imagined the height of a man above those footprints, and squeezed the trigger.

  BAMMMM!

  The shot rang out and a spray of red erupted from the air, flecking the snow drifts with blood. The footprints stopped, and a larger depression in the snow punctuated it.

  Tanner put the pistol away and turned to look at the boy. Jadon's eyes were wide, but his expression otherwise blank.

  "Your name is Jadon here, right?" Tanner asked. The boy nodded. "Do you remember me? I helped Anzik, and I plan to help you too." The boy nodded again. "Good, now get dressed, we're leaving."

  "You killed him," Jadon said, making no move toward his travel clothes.

  "Yeah, I guess I did. Wendell should never have kept you from your father."

  "He made me look through Anzik's eyes for him. I didn't like that," Jadon said.

  "Well," said Tanner, "I can hardly manage any magic, and I promise not to use any on you. I'm just going to bring you to see your father. I gave him my word."

  "This blade," Stalyart asked, picking up Zellisan's sword. The old coinblade always carried two, but had not the time to get the shorter blade out. "Is this a runed blade? The lighting makes telling difficult."

  "Yeah. Take that, and the helm too," Tanner said. He spared a glance down at Zellisan, but turned away quickly. "Can't let magic lie around."

  "What was that he said to you, a moment ago," Stalyart asked.

  "Let's just say I'm not going back to Kadris anytime soon, and leave it at that."

  Chapter 26 - Where Loyalties Lie

  There are times when a man takes leave of his senses: in the furor of deadly combat, when the safety of a loved one hangs by a thread, or when in the presence of a particularly alluring woman. Brannis had found himself beset by all of these, but times interspersed when he was left to clearer thoughts. He had been spending more time reacting in the moment, either being carried along by his Khesh-savvy companions, or thrust into situations where emotion guided him more surely (if less deftly) than the devious portion of his mind.

  Soria had gone into the woods to procure them breakfast. They had fled with meager provisions, and the bread in their packs was already gone. They had departed the road so as to be out of the sight of travelers, obscured by hill and trees alike.

  "Strange thing, but I never learned to hunt," Brannis said, taking Rakashi's attention from the cleaning of his half-spear. The Takalish twinborn looked up from his work. Catching that there would be more to follow, he began to fold the cloth he had been using to remove the tarnish from the blade. "The noble sons that attended the School of Arms went whenever there was a respite from classes, but always at the invitation of some relative. I was never asked along; in fact I think I was pointedly unasked. I learned to shoot a bow, of course, but unless any of us develops a taste for baled hay, I have no experience with game animals."

  "My father taught me the blade—in both worlds, in fact," Rakashi said. "He taught me that it is a scale, for measuring the skill of one warrior against another, the most accurate you will ever find. It has nothing to do with providing food, and I might only have occasion to use it against an animal if confronted by a crazed beast."

  "I doubt anyone ever taught Soria to hunt, either," Brannis said.

  "No, I think not," agreed Rakashi.

  "She really is something," Brannis said. He looked up into the trees; it was as good a place as any to keep his eyes from Rakashi's. "Just pushes aside anything in her way, and does what she sees the need for. She did the same in rescuing you, I suppose. She was supposed to be hunting down wandering bands of Megrenn troops, not saving them. I can only imagine her crew's reaction to having you aboard."

  "It is just me and Soria on the Starlit Marauder," Rakashi replied.

  Brannis returned his gaze to his companion then, but saw nothing but a Takalish warrior with his bared blade draped over his legs.

  "So where did she find you, anyway?" Brannis asked, trying to mimic a good-natured smile.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Well, she had orders, of course, an area assigned to her," Brannis answered. "I'm just curious whether she stumbled upon you by chance, in the course of her duties, or went off looking."

  "Where was she assigned?" Rakashi asked.

  Brannis forced a chuckled. "Sure, if I tell you that, you'll make sure that she found you somewhere by chance. You might be tempted to make up a comforting lie to keep her out of trouble."

  "What sort of trouble might she find from you?" Rakashi asked. There it was! Brannis had watched for it and had seen a narrowed eye that betrayed a touch of anger.

  "None at all, of course. But I think a well answered question might tell me a great deal about both of you. Foremost among them: where do loyalties lie? Would she pick sides against Kadrin for the sake of a Safschan friend? Would you lie to me to protect her reputation?"

  "Brannis, if you place so little faith in my word, why not just ask her yourself?" said Rakashi. He took his half-spear in hand an
d returned it to its sheath.

  "Who's to say I haven't?" Brannis replied. The smile that appeared then was genuine. Rakashi had walked himself into the trap without being pushed. "That's why I find the question interesting. The differences in your answers tell more than the answers themselves. As a scholar, I thought you might appreciate that."

  "And my knowing that you will compare will affect my answer, you no doubt believe. Very well then, if you wish to know, she found me and a small group of survivors in the forests west of Dolok. There was a battle, and my side was victorious. She agreed to return us safely to Safschan," Rakashi said. "How does my account compare to hers?"

  "I heard nothing contradictory," Brannis said. He could not keep his grin from widening.

  Rakashi frowned. "You did not ask her yet." Brannis shook his head. "Well played."

  "And now I don't need to ask her, since you told me the truth." The truth as you find it after a few cups of wine and a night of dancing: spun about, confused, and a bit giddy. West of Dolok is east of Munne.

  * * * * * * * *

  The ride south resumed at a slower pace. The horses were not yet fully recovered from the night's frantic flight, and it was hard enough to pick bits of aether-seared rabbit from a stick while at a mere walking gait; much faster and it would be quicker to throw the meat to the ground and be done with it.

  The trees were grandiose, many as large around as a barrel, and stretching up to a canopy whose upper reaches were obscured by the lower. The road was more a corridor than a path, with even the lowest of branches being out of reach from horseback, and twining overhead to roof them in.

  "I'm not sure bits of mine are cooked all the way through," Brannis called over to Soria, riding next to him. "Have you done much cooking by aether?"