Shadowspawn (Thieves' World Book 4)

by Andrew J Offutt

  “Now that we are all truly uncomfortable,” Hanse said, “I’d like you to come home, Mignue.”

  Whatever she had told her fellow S’danzo, she showed that she wanted no scene here and no loss of face for anyone: she stood up at once.

  Turquoise smiled brightly. “Ah, young people and their problems! We had ours, Hanse; Quill and I certainly had ours! Have you eaten?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. Mignue and I need to talk.”

  Quill stood and pointed a finger, then shook it. “Take this as an order, Hanse! Wait right where you are for six shakes of a snake’s tail.”

  Hanse tried to look as if he was suppressing a smile; what he wanted was out of here. “Yes sir.”

  Quill nodded and strode out of the room. Gazing after him, Mignureal directed a strange look at Turquoise.

  “Six…shakes of a…snake’s tail?”

  Turquoise laughed, and went off into a story about how Tiquillanshal had begun to say that years back, after such-and-so an experience and and…Mercifully, Quill was swiftly back. He carried a covered bowl, which he proffered to Hanse. “Quill, I don’t need to be taking food from you! We — ”

  “Well then take it as a gift to the cats, blast you for an ungrateful cold-faced loon, and get out of here before it goes cold!”

  Hanse swallowed, cradled the bowl to him with one arm, and squeezed Quill’s upper arm. “Thanks, Quill.”

  Quill met those dark eyes, and smiled a crooked smile. “Get out of here.”

  Ten steps away once the door had closed after them, Hanse said, “I’m sorry, Mignue.”

  “I’m sorry too, darling. I — I just stay so worried about you, when you’re gone. And you don’t need to — to s-steal.” They walked for a time in silence, while he gathered words. “Mignue, I do. It’s what I do, and I do it well. It’s the only occupation I’ve ever had and I am just about the best there is. When I’m in my blacks and working, I forget all my worries. Trouble between us, the coins; everything. I just concentrate on what I’m doing. I love it. It makes me feel good. Good!” He shook his head. “How can I explain? The good feeling you get when you know you’ve Seen for someone, and accomplished something with it? That soaring feeling when we’re making love? I don’t know. It’s just that I feel so good. I am…I am king of the night, contained by the shadows; part of the shadows! I’m there and I’m not there, and no one knows.”

  “Oh faint, I — oh damn!”

  “Mign-ue!”

  “What about the danger, Hanse?”

  “I — ” And at that moment he realized the truth of it, and he said it aloud: “I love it. I think I must need it.”

  “Oh, Hanse! I don’t! I worry so! When you go out, when you’re not there and I know you’re…you’re…” She shook her head with a jerk and made a sound more forlorn than exasperated. “So then I’m angry. As angry at me as I am at you. So next I start thinking morally: He’s out there stealing! Pretty soon I have a reason for being angry and wanting to make you feel guilty, and bad, and don’t have to admit that it’s because I’m so worried about you.”

  He heard that as revelation, as well as honesty that he believed beyond him. He respected it, and yet he said, “Besides, roaching is wrong.”

  She made a snorting sound. “That’s true, but you know that never bothered me or mother either. It was thrilling to me. I loved to watch you move and think about how you lived with danger and didn’t care, too brave to bother, and how you went through the night, up walls and across roofs, all silent and romantic and — what you said. King of the shadows. And I knew you never stole from anyone poor.”

  It was his turn to snort. “See? That’s my morality; I’m a moral thief, Mignue!”

  “I just never thought what it would be like not to stand back and look at you, but to be with you; to be a part of you. I never realized how I would worry. I just loved you and wanted you.” He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t. They remained silent while they approached a Red walking toward them, patrolling the night. They all spoke pleasantly, and moments later she blurted:

  “You even saved Tempus’ life, twice, and, and you — you ran after the Bey-thing that k-killed mother, and you — you killed it! For mother. For me!”

  “I…had to. I never wanted to kill anyone. When I was caught — seen, I mean — being Shadowspawn, I ran. I never thought about attacking someone who saw me, uh, roaching. I swear. But Mignue, anyhow; if I hadn’t been me, if I hadn’t been Shadowspawn, I’d never have been able to help Tempus that night he was attacked, or get him out of Kurd’s bloody claws, or run after that murdering Stare-eye, either. I wasn’t even thinking when I did that. But see, I knew how. Because I’m what I am.”

  She heaved a long sigh. “I know. It’s just — oh Hanse, we’ve passed our door!”

  He chuckled and hugged her there on the street, as best they could manage while he hung onto that warm brown bowl. Then they went back in, and up to the apartment. The cats greeted them noisily.

  “Forgot to feed them,” Hanse muttered. “Tonight, I mean! I fed them this morning.”

  He uncovered the bowl, releasing a marvellous aroma and revealing a stew that, like most stews, looked far less attractive than it smelled and would taste.

  “You’ll love that, Hanse. So will they. Oh, and I’ve already had plenty.” She went into the bedroom.

  He spooned a dollop into the bowl of each cat and shook his head with a little smile, watching each poke its head toward the marvellous-smelling mass, jerk back and shake it hard, and give him a dirty look. Both kept stalking the bowls, though, checking and re-checking. He had seen it before and decided that they weren’t waiting for the food to cool because that concept was beyond their understanding. Maybe they knew that some magic would make this badness edible, and maybe they didn’t. But they never walked away from over-warm food and interested themselves in something else. They kept trying.

  Maybe cats don’t understand that hot things grow warm and then cool, he mused; maybe cats believe in miracles.

  Maybe I do.

  That led to a thought he did not summon and did not want: Being Shadowspawn and Mignureal’s man both at once may not be possible.

  He sighed and tapped the keg, once again grateful that the short but enormous old woman on the first floor was truly a master brewer. With a mug of beer and a spoon, he sat down with the bowl.

  He called, “You know, the difference between dogs and cats is that a dog would have shoved his snoot in first, and got it burned. Cats always look and sniff first, don’t they. Umm. This is good! Good old Quill!”

  Once he heard voices, but realized they were wafting in through the broken pane in the window in the other room. I’ve got to fix that damned window, he mused.

  She came back in wearing the long, colourfully embroidered robe that had been a gift from a grateful client. In one flash, she had Seen the bag of gold the woman’s son had buried in the back yard before he had been killed, and told her exactly where to dig. Mignureal had no idea how it had happened. That was Seeing into the past, and the only mind that knew where the gold was belonged to a dead man. “Sorceress!” Hanse had said, and pretended to cower in fear from her. That had been a good night. There had not been enough of those.

  He devoted himself to cup and bowl, putting off the talking they had to do.

  “Can I get you anything else, darling? Oh! I — I haven’t — I haven’t cooked for you at all today!”

  “Not a thing. As a matter of fact I’m stuffed and better stop.”

  He rose and replaced the bowl’s matching lid, since he had not been able to eat all that Tiquillanshal had given them. Leaning against the wall, he faced Mignureal.

  “Shadowspawn isn’t quite invisible. Not always. Last night a man was taking a leak in an alley I jumped across, and saw me. I didn’t see him. When I came in and you were waiting up, staring, I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do and couldn’t think of anything to say. I never had a mother, not really I
mean, but you were like a staring mommy and that made me feel like a little boy. So I…ran away. No, wait. Let me tell you this. I went to a place called the Rampant Goat, and drank. That’s why I went to that dive: to drink, and be alone. That’s what you tell yourself when what you really want is to be wanted, isn’t it. But that man was there, and recognized me. Four men approached me. Four men who wanted me.”

  “Oh, Hanse!”

  He averted his glance because she looked as if she was straining against a chain, wanting to run the few steps to him. He looked back at her when she had finished wiping her eyes. For the first time, he wished the robe didn’t have a scooped Firaqi “neck” line.

  He told her the rest of it then, standing in the kitchen leaning against the wall, while she stood in the bedroom doorway in the lovely long robe, staring. He told her all the rest of it except the part about Janith. Her eyes were glistening with tears before he had finished:

  “So I hadn’t been here at all when I came to the bazaar for you. And night after ‘morrow, I’m going into Corstic’s home.”

  “You…are going.”

  “Aye. They came to me when I needed. I’ve given my word. I am going in.”

  Her great sigh made him squeeze his eyes shut, because of the low-cut robe. She looked away blinking.

  “No secrets anymore, either,” he told her. “Today I bought a waterproof bag and hid my blacks up on the roof. That way I could climb up and change and you’d never know it. I was afraid you’d try to bum them. That’s how far apart I felt we were, Mignue.”

  Staring distraught at the wall, at nothing, she said “oh” in a tiny voice.

  He said, “I guess this is where we — where you decide whether you want to stay here or go to — no. Or whether you want me to go stay somewhere else. Me and Notable.”

  “Mraowr?”

  That was convenient; to have something to do, Hanse drew Notable a little beer. Rainbow stared, one paw up, while Notable crouched right down, hunkering protectively over his bowl. Curling his tail around himself, he guzzled. Hanse faced Mignureal again. She was shaking her head, looking at him with a stricken expression.

  “Oh Hanse. It can’t be that way. How can I leave you, or let you move out?”

  “If all we’re going to do is make each other unhappy, we’d be better off.”

  She took a step and slid down into a chair, as if weak. “We haven’t had much time together, Hanse, and we’ve had to live with those awful coins and that list, too. We haven’t had a natural moment together since we left the forest.” She made a helpless gesture that was pitiful.

  “Strain and pressure, every day and every night,” she said, staring at the tabletop. “Thinking about the coins. Dreading those coins, and the list. And not able to do anything about it. Walking over here, I told you how I saw you before, how I thought of you. A little while ago I was thinking about that while I took too long changing clothes in the bedroom. That made me realize: I haven’t been fair. What happened to the way I felt about you and what you did? Because I love you I worry, and because I worry I want you to change? But then what would you be? You’d be someone else!”

  No, he thought, because I’m not going to stop being me, and part of being me is being Shadowspawn. But when she looked up he nodded, and held her eyes.

  “I haven’t been fair either, Mignue. We’re so different. I’ve always been a loner. All I had to think about was Hanse. So then what I wanted was to be just the same, but have you too. All one way.”

  “No you haven’t! You’ve been so good to me, so protective and understanding! Don’t say that about yourself!”

  “Let’s argue about that.”

  That led to a stare and then laughter, which led to a release of tension and an embrace, which lengthened, and led to the other room and bed and a greater release of tension.

  *

  “You know,” he said later, lying on his back with his hands clasped under his head. “Perias is a Changer we almost did business with, or did, briefly, and his name’s on that list. Now I’ve met the Longfaced Four. I think Shorty’s pretty much hired help, and Malingasa’s probably more enforcer than brain. I think Marll is probably the leader but Thuvarandis is probably the real thinker who advises Marll. Probably. He’s also the nicest and the most understanding — and his name is on that list.”

  “Ahhh…all right.”

  “I think that’s all. But I need to talk about something else. I need for you to hear it and think for me. I think those four are part of a plot involving politics and magic. Of course in this town the two are linked. Maybe the Longfaced Four are the plot. Maybe they represent someone who’s totally in the background. Arcala, for instance. You know, the other master mage.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, then — I wish you drank beer!”

  “I can take a hint; I’ll get you a cup,” she said, and squirmed off the bed.

  He watched her walk naked into the kitchen. Gods, he loved to watch that sight! Then she came back, and he loved to watch that, too. Janith, he thought scornfully. What a fool you are, Hanse!

  He hitched himself up so he could hold the mug in one hand and get his other arm around her.

  “Careful with the fondling now, darling. I’m supposed to be doing some important listening.”

  “Uh. Well, my ‘rules’ about what to call me and how to refer to me when I’m not around; I think they accepted that too easily. And my outburst, challenging ‘em about treating me as hired help — they accepted that the same way. Not a word from Marll and Shorty. A few quiet accepting ones from Thuvarandis to Malingasa, who was hot. Then cool quiet acceptance from him. You know…once back in Sanctuary a couple of people took me into a plot, and what they were really doing was taking me in. I was their tool. It was your mother who warned me, although not quite that specifically.” He paused for a sip of beer.

  “A tool is something you use until you’re through with it or it breaks, and then you discard it.”

  He waited. Mignureal didn’t say anything.

  “If you’re asleep I’m going to strangle you and feed you to the cats.”

  “I’m not asleep. I’m thinking. You’ve had so much living, Hansel So many experiences! You’re cautious and wary because you’ve learned to be. I never had to be. That other time you were taken in. This time maybe that’s what they’re doing and maybe it isn’t, but you know enough to suspect. That will make you careful and that’s good. I understand and respect your wariness and carefulness a lot more now, darling, than a month ago when we came here.”

  He squeezed her closer, briefly. “Five weeks ago,” he said.

  She squirmed. “You’re right! We’re practically natives!”

  She waited. Hanse didn’t say anything.

  “If you’re asleep,” she said, “I’m going to pour beer in your ear and call Notable.”

  Hanse broke up just as he sipped. Laughing, he choked. Coughing, he fell off the bed.

  *

  In the morning the shelf still contained five Imperials; the list was unchanged. Hanse told Mignureal his plans for the day: he would fetch his horse from the Green Goose, and ride up on Town Hill. And around. And around.

  She looked at him with a nervous expression. “I wish — ” she began, and broke off. “Please be careful, darling. I love you.”

  He nodded and hugged her. “I love you too, Mignue.”

  An hour later he was out of the city proper, hatless and cloakless, and pacing the big grey up the road that wound up the beautiful hill; the hill was steep enough to necessitate a winding ascent. The horse was full of ginger, having been stabled for so long, and Hanse had to hold him in strongly. He found the house, a true mansion on spacious grounds. He studied it and its trees and shrubs, its flowerbeds and herb gardens, its salients and windows — and dogs — as well as he could without moving in close. He squinted at two outbuildings, marking windows. Its handsome stone wall needed no study; it was nine feet high and spiked on top. Astride the sti
ll nameless horse, he reached out and touched the top of the wall. Simple. Many of the trees were truly towering ones of age, and a score and more of those lined the inside of the wall. Easy. Made to order for swift easy entry. He saw an area where the grass was a different colour and marked its location by a tree and an evergreen bush; he would avoid that patch as a possible trap.

  I’ll stay away from that herb garden, too, just in case. Damn. I really don’t know enough about Corstic.

  He rode the horse around up there as long as he thought he dared, and rode down. After letting the horse run for a half hour, he hauled him in and headed for the gate. On a whim he turned left to ride into Northgates. He paused for a while before a certain manse and its servant house, thinking. After a time his mouth twitched in a not-quite smile, and he rode on. I have no need of Janith. At the Green Goose he handed the horse over to the boy-of-all-work Khulna kept around, and made the boy’s eyes shine by giving him a copper. Sure that the big Tejana horse was receiving fine care, Hanse walked through Firaqa to the open market. He caught sight of Thuvarandis almost at once. Hanse approached him.

  “Pardon me, sir, but do you know whether there’s a decent tailor working here in the bazaar?”

  “Ah — over on that side, I think. Here, I’ll walk you.”

  “We need a meeting, tonight,” Hanse muttered.

  Thuvarandis accepted that. “Three of us can be there. I’m not sure about Malingasa.”

  “Tell him it’s more important than whatever else he’s doing. I’ll have drawn a map. We have plans to make. Tell me where to find a lot of silk rope. Yes, it’s expensive but it’s what I need, and I mean a lot of it. I’ll meet one of you in the Rampant Goat, at about the thirteenth hour?”