Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

  “Negotiators!” I exclaimed in surprise. So far the Sikhandi commanders had always refused to deal with what they considered lawless rebels, not proper opponents.

  Rhys shrugged. “So it seems.”

  “What happened?” I asked Angor. “You didn’t attack them, did you?”

  “My lady, we respect the white baton,” he answered stiffly. “Captain Selwyn is detaining them, but did not lay a finger on them. Their leader claims to carry a scroll from Prince Bahram to the Eagle regarding the ransoming of prisoners.”

  I frowned and turned to Rhys. “You have prisoners here?” If I’d known, I would have gone to see them!

  “No.” When I stared at him in confusion, his shoulders started to shake. “Arisha, he means you.”

  “Oh!” To my consternation the others started to laugh, all except Angor, who looked as bewildered by the sudden mirth as me. “What’s so funny?”

  Rhys wiped his eyes. “Just that you simply refuse to think of yourself as a prisoner and so get treated accordingly.”

  I didn’t see anything wrong with that, but that moment another thought hit me. “How did they know I’m here?”

  He shrugged. “Probably somebody from one of the villages we passed told them. We travelled quite openly after all.”

  “So what’s going to happen now? Have you got the scroll?”

  Angor shook his head. “The Sikhandi lord insisted he had to talk to the Eagle personally. Since he wore the white of truce, Captain Selwyn decided to send word to the Eyrie.”

  “It might mean a chance for peace,” I appealed to Rhys.

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “You could at least talk to him!” I searched for support in the faces of Taren, Kestrel and Owl, but found only regret. “Don’t you see, if Prince Bahram sends you an official scroll, he recognises you as somebody he can negotiate with. Not just about prisoners, but perhaps also for an end to this war?”

  “Arisha, it’s too late.” Rhys’s tone held no room for compromise. “Anyway, tomorrow is the oathtaking, and after that…” He shook his head. “I have no time to go and see the man.”

  “Bring him here.”

  “So he can spy on us and report our strength?”

  “Blindfold him.”

  Rhys began to pace the room like a caged animal. “What if he’s dangerous? I can’t risk bringing him here amongst my people. For all I know, it’s that Master of Elephants, the Fire mage.”

  I snorted at the idea. Sattar risking his person on my behalf seemed highly unlikely. “What is the man’s name?” I asked Angor.

  “Lord Navid, Master of Archers, he called himself.”

  My friend Yasaman’s husband! “I know him,” I exclaimed. “Navid is no mage and completely trustworthy.”

  Angor threw a nervous look at Rhys, while clutching his mug. “He seemed genuinely concerned for the lady and asked about her welfare, how she was treated.”

  “His wife is a friend of mine,” I explained. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing! I don’t give information to the enemy.”

  I sighed. “He’ll be worried.”

  Rhys was still pacing. “Arisha, what does this Navid look like? Describe him for us.”

  Did he think somebody else was posing as the harmless Master of Archers? What a suspicious man! So I described Navid, from the carefully curled moustache that was his pride and joy, down to the scar across the back of his left hand received in a hand to hand fight against Sarbatinian pirates.

  Angor nodded. “That’s the man.”

  Rhys had stopped his pacing and stood at the table, staring down at the maps spread there. I wondered what plans they contained, but did not want him to think I was spying, so refrained from looking at them. Deep in thought, he tapped his fingers on them, then suddenly fixed Angor with a sharp glance. “Very well, bring this Navid here to present his scroll. It might turn to our advantage if the Sikhandi get a notion of the forces arrayed against them, as long as they don’t get precise information.”

  Taren stirred uneasily. “Rhys, I know that expression on your face. What are you planning?”

  He shrugged. “Bahram is little experienced at warfare. Once the pressure builds up, he’ll start making mistakes. And we already know he has a problem with desertions. Receiving news of our clear numerical superiority will only worsen that.”

  My momentary pleasure at carrying my point evaporated. I felt bitter. “You don’t want peace, do you?” Why did I even try!

  “Arisha, he is free to leave my lands at any time, as long as he takes his army with him,” Rhys said, his voice cold.

  “You know he can’t,” I exclaimed. “Bahram is probably heartily tired of Aneirion. But he needs to show some kind of success here or he’s finished at home.”

  “That’s not my problem.” His face held the same pitiless expression as when I had first met him, like a raptor focused on its prey.

  However, the Eagle’s mask no longer impressed me. “I suppose it’s not your problem either, if half your men get killed,” I threw at him. What if he himself died! And why did even I care!

  He banged his fist on the table, making everybody jump. “Arisha, what would you have me do? Hand over our lands to the high and mighty Prince Bahram, hoping for fair treatment from a Sikhandi prince?”

  I refused to be intimidated and took a step closer. “Find a compromise.”

  “There is none! I want the Sikhandi gone from my lands, every last one of them.”

  “In that case can’t we give them something in exchange?” I asked.

  “What do you suggest, gold and slaves? They’re no different from the Khotai, they want the same things.”

  The Khotai, of course! Suddenly I saw a way out of the impasse. “Trade them your horses,” I said. Before he could do more than start to protest, I rushed on. “The culls! You said you won’t deal with the Khotai again, so why can’t we trade them to the Sikhandi instead?” It seemed the perfect solution.

  Rhys made a cutting motion with the hand. “So they can use them against us?”

  I bit my lip, as I saw my hopes unravelling. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I tried to find an argument to counter his objection. “Rhys, surely there is a way?”

  His face softened, and he took my hands in his. “I know you mean well, Arisha,” he said. “And whatever you may think of me, I do not enjoy the idea of slaughter. Yet I can see no peaceful end to this war.” He stroked his fingers across my knuckles, as if wanting to give me comfort.

  The sudden impulse to rest my forehead against his chest shot through me. All I wanted was a brief moment of peace, a respite from having to rely on myself alone all the time. The sheer seductiveness of the thought shocked me.

  Rhys mistook my silence. “But why should you believe me?” he said and released me. “When my sword has run red with so much Sikhandi blood. However, I’ve chosen this path and will walk it to the end, even if you hate me for it.”

  “But I do!” I exclaimed and then perceived I was making a muddle of it. “I mean, I believe you,” I stuttered, “not that I hate you! But there must be another way. It’s like Shah, not all paths run straight, sometimes you can jump over a piece…” My voice petered out, as I realised I was babbling. He must think me a right scatterbrain.

  Abruptly I became aware of our audience, the messenger looking down at the floor embarrassed, Taren and Kestrel studying a map on the wall with great interest, Owl cleaning one of her knives. Rhys must have realised the same, for he took a step back. The mask of the dedicated warrior descended on his face once more, leaving me cold and bereft. I had to stop myself forcibly from reaching out for him. What had got into me!

  He turned to the others. “Very well, that’s decided. Have the man brought here under guard and blindfold him once he gets within sight of the camp.”

  Angor put his mug of tea down and bobbed his head. “Yes, my lord. I shall leave at once.”

  Rhys frow
ned. “Are you up to the journey? I had thought to send someone else, so you can have a rest.”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Good man.” The curt smile accompanying the words made Angor beam as if Rhys had awarded him the Jade Seal of Meritorious Conduct. “Can you get him here for tomorrow after midday?” Rhys asked.

  Angor was already halfway to the door. “Yes, Eagle!”

  Taren pushed away from the bookshelf he’d been leaning against. “You want him to witness the oathtaking?”

  Rhys gave a mirthless smile. “Yes. Let him see who he’s dealing with.”

  The discussion concluded, we slowly filed out of the study. Rhys held the door open for me. “And Arisha, remember your promise.”

  Suddenly I felt uneasy. Nothing I’d heard so far had made me want to run away.

  What hadn’t he told me?

  EIGHTEEN

  The next day dawned dry and fair. While Cerwen was preoccupied with preparing for the feast in the evening to celebrate the oath taking, I fretted about Prince Bahram’s messenger. To take my mind off my worries, I offered to help, which resulted in Bethan putting me in charge of setting up more tables and benches in the hall. Lady Enit passing by a little bit later gave a contemptuous sniff when she saw me scrubbing a table, but I had shovelled enough elephant dung in my life not to mind getting my hands dirty.

  Cerwen collected me just before midday and together we walked up to the Eyrie. It seemed as if the whole camp intended to witness the ceremony. Up at the castle the courtyard was packed with people, while the more adventurous had even climbed the scaffolding to get a better view. I spotted some boys sitting on the roof of Dillan’s hut and wondered what the master builder made of this incursion into his peaceful realm. The noise of so many people talking echoed back from the walls until the whole place hummed like an enormous beehive. Cerwen pushed through to the dais, and I slipped along behind her, earning a fair share of curious looks and whispers in my wake.

  “Is that Lord Rhys’s Sikhandi princess?” a girl piped up just as I passed her family, making me throw her a startled glance. Wherever had she got that idea from?

  At the foot of the dais I hesitated, but Cerwen took my arm and pulled me up the stairs. Rhys was already there, talking to Taren and some other lords. Instead of his usual nondescript brown garb he wore a dark blue tunic edged with gold, and I had to admit he looked rather splendid with the wind ruffling his thick mane of blond hair. His eyes flashed our way for a moment, but he gave no other sign of recognition. Somebody called my name, and I spotted Lady Luned enthroned on a seat at the back of the dais, waving me over imperiously.

  “Really, my child,” she said, examining me critically, “don’t you have anything proper to wear?”

  Guiltily I looked down at my simple tunic and trousers, thrown on at random that morning, and suddenly felt rather drab. How the little girl had taken me for a princess became even more of a mystery.

  “You must do better for the feast tonight,” Lady Luned told me. “After all we don’t want the daughter of that bird brain, Enit, to outshine you, do we?” She motioned with her chin at Owena, who hovered on the edge of the group surrounding Rhys, dressed in a clinging gown of pale pink.

  “No?” I asked, surprised that Lady Luned should care.

  “No!” the old lady rapped out. “I will find you some dresses to choose from. You will make an effort tonight, is that understood?”

  There seemed to be only one acceptable answer. “Yes, my lady,” I said.

  “Good.” Dismissing the matter, she began to tell me about the other guests, pointing out family connections and regaling me with funny anecdotes about them. The old lady knew everybody and seemed extremely well informed! Just as she was confiding a highly salacious tale about a staid old lord that had me shaking with suppressed giggles, Lady Enit swept over with her daughter in tow.

  “Lady Luned,” she said with a gracious smile, “what a pleasure to get to talk to you at last. I’ve long meant to introduce my daughter Owena to you.” She pushed the poor girl forward, who dropped a curtsy. Lady Luned nodded with little enthusiasm.

  “Pleased to meet you, my lady,” Owena whispered.

  I suddenly wondered what kind of reputation Lady Luned had with that sharp tongue of hers. That of an old dragon? “What a lovely dress you’re wearing, Lady Owena,” I said, trying to put the girl at ease.

  She shot me a surprised glance. “Thank you.”

  I turned to Lady Luned. “Don’t you agree?”

  The old lady nodded grudgingly, but relented when I kept looking at her. “Yes, very fetching,” she agreed.

  However, after a few more meaningless polite remarks, the conversation ground to an uncomfortable halt. Lady Enit seemed nettled by her frosty reception, for she cast a look of dislike my way. “I see that you are finished with scrubbing tables?” she asked with a sneer.

  Her jibe didn’t particularly concern me. I simply nodded, but Lady Luned frowned. “What were you doing cleaning tables, Arisha?”

  “Bethan needed help, so I volunteered.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I’m sure she only meant you to supervise, not do the work yourself!”

  “A lady does not get her hands dirty, my girl,” Lady Enit tittered.

  My first impulse was to tell her in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t her girl, but Lady Luned beat me to it. “Ah, but it’s such a nice change to have a useful guest,” she said. “Such a rare occurrence, when most people these days expect to be waited on hand and foot, regardless of whether they deserve it or not. Don’t you agree?”

  Lady Enit’s smile congealed, and she obviously didn’t know what to answer.

  “Arisha has also been playing to me on her beautiful lute,” the old lady added, “giving me great pleasure…”

  Lady Enit paled, though her expression did not falter. “How nice.”

  However, Lady Luned wasn’t finished with her yet. She turned to me. “Dear Enit and I understand each other perfectly, we’ve known each other for ages.” She paused for a moment before delivering the killing blow. “In fact I can still recall her as a little girl with a snotty nose, getting spanked for bullying the smaller children.”

  Faced with such a ruthless opponent, Lady Enit did the only sensible thing: she retreated hastily. Lady Luned watched mother and daughter go with satisfaction. “That one won’t bother me again,” she confided to me in a highly audible whisper.

  That made me laugh, but inside I was churned up. “She had the strings of my lute cut, didn’t she?”

  “We believe so, but have no proof.”

  “We?”

  “Rhys talked to Bethan, who questioned the servants,” Lady Luned explained. “One of Enit’s maids was seen in the corridor outside your room that day, but the girl has vanished.”

  “Vanished where?” I asked.

  “Enit sent her home on some pretext.”

  I nodded. For myself, I needed no further proof to know she was guilty.

  “Actually Rhys considered sending a patrol after the maid to bring her back, but I dissuaded him,” Lady Luned added.

  “He did?” For a moment I dwelt on the pleasing vision of Lady Enit admitting her guilt and grovelling, but then I shook my head. That would be blowing the whole matter out of proportion. Besides, unless I was very much mistaken, she had just received a severe warning. I sighed. “It’s all right.”

  Lady Luned patted my hand. “Good girl. At the moment Rhys still has to tread carefully, but he has a long memory.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a small matter. I feel sorry for Owena really, having such a mother.”

  “The girl seems harmless enough,” Lady Luned agreed, “but not at all what Rhys needs.”

  When I only shrugged again, she rapped the arms of her chair sharply with her knuckles. “Listen to me, Arisha! Amongst the Aneiry, it’s the lady’s role to balance the lord by offering differing opinions. Rhys can be harsh, he needs somebody who will stand up to him, not
some docile twit.”

  Surprised by the vehemence in her voice, I stared at her. “It just doesn’t sound very peaceful.”

  “Peaceful?” Lady Luned snapped. “Really, child, who needs that? You’ll have peace enough when you lie in your grave!”

  “But–”

  “Oh, they should get along of course,” she interrupted me, “but that doesn’t mean that they have to be of the same opinion all the time.”

  I nodded obediently, wondering all the while why the old lady insisted on telling me all this. That moment a horn rang out to signal the beginning of the oath taking. The guests sorted themselves out to stand at the back of the wooden platform, while Rhys stepped forward to face the crowd.

  Under the general shuffling about, Lady Luned beckoned me to lean closer. “In short,” she said, “Rhys needs somebody like you.” She cackled. “And you need him.”

  * * *

  What? The old lady had to be mad! My mind throwing up hot denials, I didn’t take in a single word of Rhys’s welcome speech. That stubborn, dictatorial …man was the last person I wanted in my life. I reminded myself of the highhanded way he had treated me from the beginning, how he had even threatened me with violence. And afterwards I’d been given no choice whether to come to the Eyrie or not. I needed that man as much as I needed a blister on my foot!

  My mind still in turmoil, I paused. In all fairness I had to admit that once we’d got here, he had treated me honourably and had even granted me guest rights. As the first of the lords knelt down in front of Rhys to take his oath, my gaze wandered to Lady Enit. Had it been left up to her, I probably would have ended up in the prison cell I had wished for earlier on. So perhaps I shouldn’t complain too much?

  Rhys clasped the lord’s hands between his own, and I got a glimpse of his profile when he focused all his concentration on the man. Neither of the two took his oath lightly, one promising submission to his chosen lord, the other protection of his new subject. I could readily understand why men followed Rhys, I suddenly thought, how that bright intensity drew them like moths to a flame. However, luckily I was far too level headed to be caught like that.