[Lyra 05] - The Raven Ring

by Patricia C. Wrede - (ebook by Undead)

  “Thank you, but I’d rather stay,” Eleret said. She wouldn’t learn anything stuck in her room, and she had a feeling she was going to need every shred of information she could scrape together in order to make sense out of the day’s events.

  “You needn’t prove yourself to me, Freelady,” Lord tir Vallaniri said. “Go on and rest. I’ll send Daner up later to let you know if we’ve found anything.” His tone was kind, but his attention had already shifted to Daner and Baroja.

  Eleret hesitated. She did not want to offend Lord tir Vallaniri, but neither did she want to depend on his goodwill for the information she needed. From the look of him, he was likely to forget her existence the moment she was out of his sight.

  “And I’ll let you know right away if there’s anything urgent,” Daner said.

  “Very well. Fortune favor you, my lords.” Eleret bowed, smiled at Baroja’s startled expression (though she did not understand it), and followed the stony-faced guardsman out the door.

  Bresc took a different route from the one Laurinel had used, and Eleret kept a closer eye than usual on the twists and turns of the hallways. As far as she knew, Mobrellan was still loose somewhere in the house, and that was cause enough to keep a hand near her knife. He might be the innocent servant Baroja and Daner seemed to think him, but until she had good reason to believe differently, she would assume that he was waist-deep in Jonystra’s plots. Better to be prepared for the rock that doesn’t fall…

  Finally, Bresc paused. “Your room, my lady.”

  “Thank you,” Eleret said. Keeping as far back as she could, she set a hand to the door and shoved it open.

  Candlelight spilled into the hall. Eleret stepped sideways into the shelter of the wall and reached for her knife.

  “Lorig has prepared your chamber for you, my lady.” Bresc’s voice was even more expressionless than usual, but there was a gleam of approval in his eyes.

  “Oh.” Eleret straightened. She should have guessed; an intruder would hardly advertise his presence by lighting candles.

  “Will there be anything else, my lady?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Bresc bowed and left. Still feeling edgy and vaguely disquieted, Eleret walked through the open door. Her kit bags had been moved to the foot of the bed; a candle burned on the table, the embers of a fire glowed on the hearth, and the room was uncomfortably warm and stuffy. Eleret sighed and crossed to the window. If she was going to get any sleep tonight, she’d have to air the room.

  “Ahem.”

  Eleret spun, dropping into a crouch and reaching for her weapons as a man stepped slowly out of the deep shadow between the wardrobe and the far wall. His size and stance were faintly familiar, and he held his hands out to either side, fingers spread to emphasize the fact that they were empty. Even before he spoke, she suspected who he was, and his voice confirmed it.

  “I come unarmed, and mean no ill to you or yours,” Karvonen said in careful, barely accented Cilhar. “Quite the contrary, in fact, though I expect you’ll take some convincing of that.”

  Eleret blinked in surprise. So the thief speaks Cilhar and knows the conventions for safe approach. She relaxed a little more; anyone so knowledgeable deserved to be treated accordingly, at least until she knew what he wanted and how he had gotten there.

  “Come out where I can see you,” Eleret said in Ciaronese.

  “Will this do?” He stepped forward half a pace and leaned into the candlelight. Fox-colored hair gleamed briefly; then he pulled back into the shadows. “I’m not anxious to be noticed by anyone else, you see. Quite apart from the damage it would do to your reputation, think of what it would do to mine.”

  “Karvonen Aurelico.” Eleret shook her head in wonder. “What are you doing here? How did you pick this room? And how did you get in?”

  “I was waiting for you,” Karvonen said promptly. “As for getting in—I’m a thief, remember?”

  “You make it difficult to forget,” Eleret said. “Be a little more specific.”

  “Why don’t you close the door first? It’s a long tale, and I’d hate for us to be interrupted in the middle. You might never hear the end of the story.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.” Keeping one hand on her knife and both eyes on Karvonen, Eleret edged toward the door and nudged it shut with her foot. “Now, try again. Why are you here?”

  “I’m trying to retrieve my mistake this afternoon.” Karvonen sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Having scruples is such a nuisance. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I get into because of them.”

  “You’re right,” Eleret said. “I wouldn’t. For the third time, what is it you want? Or do I have to use the same method as I did this afternoon to get a reasonable answer? As I remember, you were much more talkative then.” She slid two inches of her knife out of the sheath, turning slightly so that the candlelight glinted on the exposed blade.

  “No, no,” Karvonen said. “There’s no need for that sort of thing, really. I just don’t know where to start.”

  “You can start by coming out where I can see you clearly, now that no one can look through the door and ruin your reputation,” Eleret said. Karvonen’s expression might not give away much, but she wanted to be able to watch it anyway, just in case.

  “That’s easy enough.” Karvonen slid out of the shadows and sat down on the edge of the bed. Leaning back, he said, “Will this suit you? It will take me a moment to get into position, if I want to try something; that should give you plenty of warning. Now, where were we?”

  Eleret looked at him with the most skeptical expression she could muster and slid another inch of knife blade free. “Try the beginning.”

  “The beginning,” Karvonen said, and shook his head sadly. “Right to the beginning, with no lead-in, no setting the atmosphere, no background, no buildup of suspense. When am I going to meet a Cilhar who understands small talk? It begins with the twist.”

  “The what?”

  “The twist. Snagging your boyfriends bucket this afternoon.”

  “Stealing his purse, you mean.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Eleret gave Karvonen the look she usually reserved for her sister Nilly when Nilly brought home yet another orphaned fox cub or injured squirrel.

  Karvonen sighed again. “Not one for colorful language, either, I see. Very well. In plain words: I thought something was odd about the job from the beginning, but I didn’t worry about it until I found out you were Cilhar. When the Syaski showed up—”

  “How do you know they were Syaski?”

  “Their boots and their belts,” the thief said without hesitation. “Syaski like wooden-soled boots with heels, and lace them up along the outside of their legs, and there’s a fashion in Syaskor right now for braided leather sword-belts. Your average Syask in Ciaron will change the rest of his clothes to suit local styles, but he won’t walk around in soft leather shoes and he’ll keep his familiar, properly adjusted sword-belt unless someone cuts it off him.” Karvonen gave Eleret a sidelong look. “The same way a Cilhar will find some way of carrying half an armory’s worth of weapons no matter what she wears.”

  “Go on.” Eleret kept her tone carefully neutral, but she pushed her knife back into its sheath. As long as Karvonen cooperated, she was willing to give him a little maneuvering room. A very little; she kept her hand near the hilt.

  Karvonen made a show of politely ignoring the gesture, and continued. “When the Syaski showed up, I knew something was stranger than a Kith Alunel envoy without something to argue about.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not incompetent. You think I just decide whose tail to twist on the spur of the moment? I heard about you and your boyfriend—”

  “Lord Daner isn’t my boyfriend,” Eleret said, annoyed. She’d let it go by once, but after two mentions, she had to correct him. Karvonen would drive her crazy if he kept referring to Daner that way.

  “Huh.” Karvonen p
ursed his lips skeptically. “I’ll bet it’s not because he didn’t try.”

  “You’d lose.”

  “Then Daner’s an idiot,” Karvonen said with feeling.

  “Let’s get back to your long tale. You heard about Lord Daner and me—”

  “—from a local acquaintance who lets me know now and then when he runs across a good thing. He said there were lots of rumors about you but no solid information, which usually means big money is involved. Being fond of money, I thought I’d just appropriate a little of it before some amateur loused up the whole thing.”

  In spite of herself, Eleret’s lips curled in disgust. Karvonen spread his hands, a picture of apology. “It is my profession.”

  “Well, don’t ever practice it near me again.”

  “I wouldn’t have practiced it near you once, if I’d known you were Cilhar. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. None of the gossips know you’re Cilhar, but those Syaski knew.”

  “So who do you think set them on us?”

  “Brains as well as skill and beauty. Daner is an idiot.”

  “Leave Daner out of this,” Eleret said. “Who was it?”

  “A fellow by the name of Gorchastrin, Grand Master—”

  “—of the Order of Tsantilar in Rathane.” Eleret was surprised, but she was also relieved. At least she didn’t have yet another unknown enemy lurking somewhere in Ciaron. “The Grand Master and I have met.”

  “No you haven’t,” Karvonen said smugly. By an effort of will, Eleret kept her expression from changing. She wasn’t going to give the little thief the satisfaction of showing surprise. “Explain.”

  Karvonen gave her an exasperated look. “You’re no fun at all, do you know that? Anyone else, even a Cilhar, would have at least said something about not believing me. But you—”

  “I have a lot on my mind.” The success of her strategy pleased her, but she couldn’t show that, either. “About Gorchastrin?”

  “Oh, very well. Grand Master Gorchastrin of the Order of Tsantilar in Rathane died mysteriously some time ago. Possibly murdered, though no one seems quite sure. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with wizards.”

  “But you’re sure he’s dead?”

  “Absolutely. No mistakes, no substitutions, no secret revivals. He’s dead, all right. And it gets better. The night before he died, Gorchastrin told his fellow Grand Masters that he had just made a discovery that would put the Order of Tsantilar at the top of the extremely messy heap of wizard’s guilds in Rathane. How much do you know about Rathani politics?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Then there’s no point in confusing you with an explanation. Unless you want to spend the next three or four hours untangling the snakes’ nest of factions they’ve accumulated over the years. I love Rathane,” he added in a happy tone. “If you pick the right person and the right place, you can steal his purse, his sword, and the cloak off his back and stroll off admiring the scenery, because the locals will take two days to decide who’s responsible for catching you.”

  “How long ago did this happen? The business with Gorchastrin, I mean.”

  “Two months ago, give or take a day.”

  “Two months ago?” Eleret frowned. Her mother had still been alive then. “Where was he killed?”

  “In his bedchamber in Rathane. And you really should say ‘died’; I did tell you I wasn’t sure he was murdered.”

  Eleret shrugged. So long as Tamm Salven hadn’t been involved in the fellow’s death, Karvonen’s hairsplitting wasn’t important. “If Gorchastrin’s dead, who tried to persuade the City Guard to arrest me this morning?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You seem to know an awful lot of other things.”

  “There is that.” Karvonen looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Put it down to an inexplicable gap in my otherwise vast fund of knowledge.”

  “Karvonen…”

  “I’m serious. Well, almost. When I found out that a dead Rathani mage was wandering around in Ciaron, I asked a couple of people who should have known who he was, really. Nobody did. Inexplicable.”

  Eleret snorted. “How do you know all the rest of these things?”

  For the first time, Karvonen looked uncomfortable. “Family connections. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.”

  “Very well.” Eleret forced her frustration down. After all, family matters were for family. She was surprised that a thief appreciated that; then she remembered that Charis had said the Aurelicos held to some honor code of their own. Evidently, the City Guardswoman had been right. The thought made Eleret feel friendlier toward Karvonen.

  Karvonen looked surprised, then grinned. “For the first time all day, I’m glad you’re a Cilhar, Freelady. Most Ciaronese wouldn’t let go of it that easily.”

  “Then they have odd ideas about proprieties.”

  “Not odd, just different. If I said I was connected with the Imperial palace, a Ciaronese would nod and say no more. You don’t ask awkward questions about one of the Emperor’s spies.”

  “No one would believe you were one of the Emperor’s spies.”

  “But if they did, they’d stop asking questions.” Karvonen rubbed his nose, looking thoughtful. “And you’d be surprised at the tales people will swallow, if you put them right.”

  “Maybe.” Eleret frowned. Karvonen had not acted as if he knew any of this earlier, so he must have gone out looking for it after their encounter that afternoon. Why? And why was he telling it to an almost-stranger? To her surprise, Eleret found that she wanted to believe him, but she had to consider the possibility that it was some sort of trap. She sighed. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I was smitten by your beauty and couldn’t think of any other way to see you again?”

  “No.”

  Karvonen sighed again. “I didn’t think so. Well, if you must know, it’s because you caught me snagging your boyfr—Lord Daner’s bucket this afternoon.”

  “So?”

  “So if I don’t do something to make up for it, I’m in big trouble. This is all I could think of.”

  “If you came to make up for picking Daner’s pocket, what are you doing in my chamber?”

  “Because he’s just a wizard. You’re Cilhar.”

  Eleret shook her head. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

  With an air of resignation, Karvonen said, “Family policy. You don’t mess with wizards, and you really don’t fool with Cilhar. The difference is, not messing with wizards is just a good idea. Basic good sense for anybody, but especially for a thief. Fooling with Cilhar…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

  “Yes?” Eleret prompted.

  “It’s hard to explain. Look, there are certain people that the family never, ever crosses. Not under any circumstances, or for any reason. Most of them are people who are connected with the family in one way or another.”

  That made sense; an honorable thief wouldn’t rob his kin, even distantly connected kin. Eleret nodded.

  “There are one or two people who’ve done favors for someone in the family at one time or another, and a few we don’t bother out of professional courtesy. And there are some families we don’t bother with because of things that go back centuries. The Kyel-Semruds, for instance.” He shook his head admiringly. “I think we wouldn’t bother them even if it weren’t for the tradition. They’re the trickiest bunch I’ve ever heard of. Outside of us, I mean.”

  Eleret frowned. “I thought the Kyel-Semruds were Kith Alunel noblemen.”

  “Those are the ones. You wouldn’t believe some of the things they’ve done.” Karvonen smiled reminiscently at the corner of the ceiling, then glanced at Eleret and cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Cilhar are the only people who are on the list as a group—not one family at a time, but the whole blasted country at once. The ban on stealing from them goes back almost as far as the one on the Kyel-Semruds; they both date from before the Wars of Binding
, anyway. And there’s an aid-in-distress clause. So you see my difficulty. When Grandfather finds out I bungled a snag on a wizard, he might be willing to pass it off as stupidity. But when he finds out I put the twist on a wizard with a Cilhar bodyguard—”

  “You’ve got it backwards again,” Eleret said absently. She found Karvonen’s explanation almost as disturbing as the information he had given her about Gorchastrin. “Daner was supposed to be guarding me.”

  “What?” Karvonen’s face went completely blank. “Why would a Cilhar need a bodyguard?”

  “Wizards.” Eleret tapped her fingers absently against the hilt of her dagger, thinking of Jonystra. “I don’t suppose—”

  A knock at the door interrupted her, and as she broke off, Karvonen stood up in an economical movement. “Beg pardon, Freelady,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, “but as I said earlier, I’d rather not be seen. Though I’m sure the residents are charming people.” Bowing, he stepped back into the shadows, and a moment later Eleret had to squint to see him, even though she knew exactly where he was.

  The knock came again. “Eleret?” said Daner’s muffled voice. “Wake up; I want to talk to you.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Eleret glanced once more at the dark corner where Karvonen stood, all but invisible, then put a hand to the door. “What have you found out?” she asked, swinging it partway open. “Has Mobrellan turned up?”

  “Mobrellan?” Daner’s eyebrows flew up in surprise; then he smiled. “Oh, yes, the Luck-seer’s porter. He’s long gone. We think he had help from one of the servants.” He pushed the door wide and stepped past Eleret, then paced over to the window and looked out, his shoulders stiff with tension.

  Quietly, Eleret eased away from the door, to a spot from which she could watch both Daner and Karvonen’s shadowy corner without being obvious about it. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to protect Karvonen from Daner or Daner from Karvonen, but she hoped suddenly and profoundly that she would not have to do either. If Karvonen had told her the truth—and, apart from an ingrained distrust of thieves, she had no real reason to think he hadn’t—he had done her a service of considerable proportions. Whatever his motives, she owed it to him to respect his wish to avoid discovery. Her debt did not extend, however, to letting him pitch a knife into Daner’s back. She raised her left hand to the quick-throw position and held it there, hoping Karvonen had enough knowledge of Cilhar customs to recognize the gesture.