Star Thief

by Robin Kristoff

  “I’m saying we don’t know what they’ll do.”

  Tylan watched Jal for a few more minutes, then knelt in the dirt to start a fire with the flint and steel that Jal handed him. Nolan courteously ignored the tears that began streaming down the boy’s face. Though every nerve in his body screamed go, he saw the logic of at least eating something before planning an attack on magic-wielding enemies from another world. He ate the meal set before him without bothering to notice what it was he put in his mouth. Jal talked of the roads they’d need to continue north, the hazards of the deepening cold, the safest border crossings into Ustengard, and how a man might go about scaling a mountain when there was no path available.

  Nolan only half listened. In his mind he ran over what Cylas and Kris had each sworn, as best he could remember. He repeated each vow until he was sure he had them memorized, then scanned each for loopholes. If he kidnapped Kris, he’d have to be pretty convincing for the spell to not consider that an escape attempt on her part. He thought he might have to hurt her for it to count, and he didn’t like the idea of that. The whole point was to save her.

  The older man started testing Tylan on the songs they’d learned. Tylan refused to sing, but he plucked half-heartedly on Jal’s harp. They ran through four renditions of a classical Surian piece popular among the aristocracy before Jal suggested an early night to allow for an early morning.

  Nolan glared. Jal ignored him, and to all appearances went to sleep. The temperature was dropping enough to convince Nolan to climb into his bedroll, despite the warmth the healthy fire lent them.

  He lay there staring through the trees at the empty night sky and thinking of the Rusamites’ promises for perhaps an hour before he heard Jal slide out of his bedroll. The older man leaned over Nolan with a finger to his lips.

  “I’m going,” Nolan said simply. “At first light. I’ll follow them. I’ll find a way to get her away from them. You can’t stop me.”

  Jal nodded. “I’m not here to stop you. Just come with me aside for a moment,” he whispered.

  The older man led Nolan farther away from Tylan and the campfire. Nolan followed, puzzled and shivering.

  “You won’t be able to talk me out of this. She said she’d rather die than go back. If she stays with them she will die.”

  “I’ll not stand in your path, whatever way that may take you. I’d just like to speak my piece on one or two things and let you on your way.”

  “And?”

  “I’m a man who keeps my promises, and I promised to look after that boy sleeping by the fire there. I’ll not see you risk him, whatever you’re doing.”

  “I’d never hurt Ty…” Nolan hissed.

  Jal held up a hand. “Not knowingly, maybe, but you’ve got to start using your wits. You have whole worlds in your grip here. Everyone on them waiting for you to set them free, back where they go. What will happen to them if something happens to you?” When Nolan didn’t answer, Jal pressed. “Well? Tell me.”

  “They’ll die.”

  “Now aside from trying to break a contract that’s bound, settled, and sealed—I’ll leave that to your own conscience—”

  “Kris selling herself is hardly—”

  “You’ve got to think of the other lives you’re risking here. Millions, maybe billions of lives all at stake without their knowledge while you think of one girl.”

  Nolan flinched. “So you would leave her with them. Condemn her to misery, to slavery, for the rest of her life. Abandon her.”

  “Do not make the mistake of calling me a coward,” Jal snapped. Nolan had never heard him speak so sharply. “But I value the lives of millions over the particular happiness of one girl, yes. And I keep my word. You promised to look after her world.”

  “And I will. After I save Kris.”

  Jal sighed, shaking his head. “As I said, I’ll not stop you. No telling how a legend falls into place until after the fact. But I do wish I could see how all of this will play out.”

  Nolan shook his head bitterly. “So you won’t help me.”

  “Mark me, boy. I would have given my left leg to record all of this story,” Jal said distinctly. “Only a fool wouldn’t see the touch of fate that’s on you. But I will keep my word. I will not risk that child after swearing to protect him.”

  “He’ll want to help.”

  “Which is why if you’re going, you ought to go now and be well gone before he wakes. You might have enough fortune on your side to actually manage this. Tylan is neither warrior nor mage nor even a grown man. You’ll only risk him, his sister, and yourself by bringing him. Where she goes they will follow, and this morning will only repeat itself over again. Kris would want him left out of this.”

  “You hardly seem an expert on what Kris wants.”

  “But closer to that mark than you are, it seems,” Jal said levelly, ignoring Nolan’s tone. “She wanted her brother safe more than anything. You said so yourself to him today.”

  Nolan looked back at the campsite where Tylan still lay sleeping. Angry as he was, he knew that Jal was right on at least one point. Kris would never forgive either of them if anything happened to Tylan.

  “He’ll be fine with me,” Jal said more gently. “I won’t let anything bad happen to him.”

  “What are you going to say to him when he wakes up? Where will you go?”

  “Farther south, probably. He’ll blend in better in western Suria, or the islands off the coast. I’m sure we can make our way there as easily as anywhere.”

  Nolan nodded reluctantly. “And what will you say?”

  “Leave that to me. He’ll know this is best for all…eventually. Even if he may not like it at first.”

  Nolan rather doubted that, but he could see Jal’s point. Tylan didn’t deserve to be hunted down if he didn’t have to be. And Kris did want him safe.

  “All right then. I’ll go now.”

  “Take some food at least. And I hope you were listening when I was telling you about what you’ll have to face if you actually manage this and continue north with the star-jar.”

  They returned quietly to the campsite. Nolan rolled his things together while Jal split the provisions they had and added generously to Nolan’s store of coins. “You’ll need warmer clothes soon,” he said gruffly, pressing the hefty pouch of gold into Nolan’s hand. “And remember you’ve still got your flute if you run short. People are always happy to hear a bit of music when the days get darker.”

  “Thank you,” Nolan said stiffly, pocketing the money. The extra coin would be useful, but money wouldn’t replace the older man’s help.

  He looked back at Tylan once more. The younger boy was frowning in his sleep. Nolan hoped the he was doing the right thing in leaving Tylan with Jal. He wasn’t sure the Rusamite boy would ever forgive him.

  “Tell him I said good-bye,” Nolan told Jal quietly. “And take care of him.” He turned away deliberately and shouldered his pack.

  “Good luck, Nolan,” Jal called softly.

  Nolan didn’t answer. As quietly as he could he made his way through the trees and the darkness and walked away from both of them.

  Even though the Rusamites had taken them out of sight of the morning’s battleground, the scent of wood-smoke still lingered strongly in the air. Nolan followed the smell. Once he was out of sight of the campfire, Nolan was forced to take out the star-jar to combat the absolute darkness of the forest. Despite that light, he managed to trip over a number of roots and skin his hand on an inopportune rocky ledge. Nolan’s toes and fingers slowly became cold, then painful. Despite these minor difficulties though, after less than an hour of stumbling, clumsy progress Nolan found the road they’d all been following through Ostmonton.

  The fires had burned themselves out on the damp wood, or perhaps the mages had put the fires out, but the smell of smoke did far more than linger here. Nolan’s nose burned and his eyes streamed as he stood there, searching for a sign of the Rusamites’ path. The black, shadowy night was far
more eerie here at this site of destruction than it had ever been before. Even knowing exactly what had caused the scene just beyond the road, Nolan shivered. The place felt haunted.

  Luckily, the Rusamites’ trail was not hard to find. It seemed two of them, and Nolan could readily guess which two, had come on horseback. In the dim light of the star-jar the hoof prints were still visible in the lightly frosted ground, arriving from the south and then clearly returning in that direction.

  The road north lay smooth and tranquil before Nolan on his left. That was the path higher into the mountains, to the Dawn Caves and to securing the safety of every life contained in Nolan’s star-jar. As Jal had said, Nolan had given his word to Nut, to Kris and to himself that he would put right the trouble he had caused. He couldn’t forget the lives he held in his hand every day. It was a responsibility that, a few short months ago, Nolan would never have dreamed of turning his back on. But rescuing strangers, whether a hundred or a hundred million, held much less sway for him now than saving one life he knew. Letting Kris die of misery or abuse so that he could save her jailors hardly seemed fair. And there was still well over a month to reach the Dawn Caves. If he didn’t find Kris now he never would. Nolan turned right.

  The trail of the magni’s horses led Nolan straight back to Lichensveld by mid-morning. The rising sun had warmed the aching cold out of Nolan’s face, hands and feet. On the other hand, hours of walking had seeped away a healthy part of the adrenaline that had pushed Nolan through a sleepless night.

  The first place Nolan visited was the Hearth, the inn where he’d first seen Lenit and Toln. Mindful that the innkeeper might very well remember throwing him out, Nolan crept in very quietly, barely letting the door make a sound. There was no need for subtlety, though. The open central room was completely deserted. Fighting a wave of disappointment mixed with the first true stirrings of panic, Nolan crept around into the kitchens and even into the chambers upstairs, but only succeeded in finding a kitchen maid who handily brandished a mop at him until he left.

  Nolan tried to retrace the trail of the magni’s horses, but once the trail entered the town it became hopelessly confused with the day’s common foot traffic, and lost over the cobblestone streets. A hunter or trapper might have been able to sort one trail out of the others, Nolan couldn’t. After leading himself to a baker, a carpenter, a miller, and two perfectly ordinary people’s homes, Nolan was forced to admit that he couldn’t fit a lifetime of tracking experience into one day.

  But he was not about to admit defeat. In mid-afternoon he decided to return to the Hearth again and wait to see if Toln or Lenit or any of the other mages came back to it. Doing nothing while he still didn’t know where Kris was would drive him mad, he was sure, but he had lost all other options.

  The inn stirred with brisk activity now. Nolan could hear someone in the kitchen barking orders to her underlings. The maid who had been cleaning that morning now trotted up the stairs with her arms full of linens. Someone had stirred the fire in the central room to cheerful life. Nolan saw no sign of Toln or Lenit, but the barrel-chested innkeeper was stacking glasses behind the counter. When he caught sight of Nolan the innkeeper stopped handling dishes and eyed him warily, glancing about for Nolan’s missing companions. Nolan shrugged and held up one finger to indicate he was alone. Some of the wariness faded from the innkeeper’s face.

  A mixture of expressive hand gestures and the offer of a few of Jal’s coins convinced the man to allow Nolan to take a room. Reasoning that nothing more could be served by exhausting himself further, Nolan reluctantly allowed himself a few hours of sleep. He collapsed on the available bed without even bothering to take off his boots.

  When he woke full night had already fallen over the town and the evening’s festivities at the Hearth were in full swing. Neither the room’s floor nor the door were sufficient to block out the steady hum of men’s voices or the occasional gale of a woman’s laughter. Stifling a groan, Nolan rose from the bed and peeked out the door. A harassed-looking mother was carrying two children into another room, but otherwise the hall was deserted. Trying to move casually and slowly, Nolan picked his way past the other boarders’ rooms and down the steps towards the common room. He made each footfall down the steps a separate motion, pausing in between each step to listen and watch for anything familiar.

  Halfway down the staircase Nolan heard the unmistakable rumble of Toln’s voice. Nolan’s breath froze. He took two more steps and tucked himself in the shadow along the wall with his arms across his chest, trying his best to look as though he were bored and waiting for someone despite the steady drum of his heart against his throat.

  “Trust Myra to disappear and leave us a day of mucking stalls,” Toln grumbled.

  “What do you expect?” Lenit asked. “She always disappears as soon as the magni’s backs are turned.”

  “Well, Magni Cylas and Belen are going to hear about her when they get back with the girl.”

  Nolan’s heart redoubled its frantic pumping.

  “We’d do better to catch up with Myra and sort it out ourselves. Even once they get to Vorolitz it’ll take them a full day to get the girl gentled. They won’t be back for a week. Then they’ll need to check in with the priest…”

  “I still don’t know what he wants with us.”

  Nolan heard the shrug in Lenit’s voice. “Power. Same as the Council of Ministers at home, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Let the magni worry about him. We’re better with him than without him. He got us the jobs, didn’t he?”

  “Right, so we can shovel stalls and haul water while Tobin’s on guard duty,” Toln said sourly. A tankard clanked against the table. “Let me get some more drinks.”

  A chair scraped against the floor. Nolan retreated back upstairs as Toln’s footfalls neared the stairwell. Toln passed and spoke to the innkeeper’s wife in stumbling Ostmontian. Nolan disappeared into his room before the mage turned around.

  Nolan closed and latched his door with trembling hands. Kris wasn’t here in Lichensveld. She was being carried away on horseback, at a faster pace than he could ever hope to match. But for once luck seemed to be running with him. At least he knew where the magni were headed.

  Nolan opened his bag with trembling fingers and dug until he found the crumpled map that Nut had given him months before. He traced an unsteady finger over the distance he’d covered already, running through Marayne and into Ostmonton until he found the tiny dot that marked Lichensveld. He scanned the surrounding area for Vorolitz and passed over it twice with his eyes before he finally spotted the city nearly two hundred miles west and perhaps fifty miles south. A road wound its way through the mountains to connect Lichensveld, Vorolitz and several villages.

  Releasing a shuddery breath, Nolan ran over in his mind everything he now needed to do to rescue Kris. He studied the supplies that Jal had given him with now-expert eyes. He had enough food to last over a week on his own. Nolan silently cursed himself for not buying gloves or a hat when he’d had the time. But there was no help for that now. At least he had his winter coat from home. He ran his finger over the road from Lichensveld, then paced to the window, heartily wishing there were a moon in its proper place to tell him how far the night had advanced. There would be no sense in setting out until after the town was well asleep. Ordering himself not to sleep, but rather to rest, Nolan lay down once more the bed and waited for silence.

  Nolan lay counting and recounting the boards in the ceiling for two hours before the din of tromping boots on wooden floors, slamming chamber doors and lively Ostmontian conversations and song began to fade. A half hour later only the sporadic slamming of the front door marking the exit of the Hearth patrons revealed that life still stirred within the Hearth’s walls. Twice Nolan rolled forwards, ready to take the night in his hands, only to flinch back when he heard the quiet tread of servants on their way to bed. But finally, finally, the inn was absolutely still. Through the window Nolan cou
ld see that hardly a light shone in any of the dwellings nearby.

  Nolan sat up and gently placed his feet on the floor. He shouldered his pack and opened the window. Making the second story exit was difficult with his pack throwing him off balance, but not impossible. Balancing awkwardly to protect the star-jar in his bag, Nolan lowered himself slowly until only his fingers gripped the windowsill. He let go and rolled into his fall, rising with nothing more than a stiff shoulder.

  Nolan circled the inn until he came to the stable connected at the back of the building. He tested the door gently, releasing a sigh of relief when he found it unlocked. The interior of the stable was absolutely dark, but he could hear a few curious whickers up and down the aisle before him. Nolan listened warily for the footsteps of a groom who might have been set to sleep alongside the animals, but after a few moments of silence broken only by the shifting of the horses he steeled himself and took out the star-jar. Coming here would serve no point if he couldn’t see.

  It wasn’t really stealing, he reminded himself, if he was leaving payment for the horse. With what Jal had given him, he had enough money to leave an offering for the owner.

  He hated thinking he was anything akin to a horse thief. But the magni were on horseback. Nolan needed to ride if he hoped to catch them, and he needed to find them before they met up with the other magni if he were going to stand a chance of saving Kris. Finding a horse for sale and bargaining for it took time. Nolan had none.

  The stable housed perhaps twenty horses, all told. They ranged from big-boned, shaggy draft horses to pert pack-ponies whose ears barely reached Nolan’s shoulder. But the better share were of middling size and might have done anything from pulling a merchant’s cart to carrying messengers for the post. A few even looked as if they might belong to gentry. Nolan had no interest in the draft horses, ponies, or finicky, over-bred gentry horses, but he looked carefully over the non-descript, multi-purpose sort.

  If he had to steal—no, buy without consent—a horse, he wanted to at least take the best.