My pulse pounded in my ears and, considering his proximity, I wondered if he could hear it as well. I pretended he couldn’t. It was unbelievable that my investigations had not revealed Duzayan’s dealings with magic. I had been so thorough! Anything less was to put life and limb in peril. What price was he going to extract from me for my audacity? I continued to hold his gaze, and the moment stretched out between us, very thin and very taut.
“You are kind,” I managed last, “to allow me the opportunity to make an intelligent decision.” I was amazed at the calmness of my voice but his smile made my belly clench.
“I don’t honestly care what means you use to make your choice: intelligence, emotion, the flip of a coin…” His breath smelled like mint leaves. “But I am somewhat—” he paused dramatically, “curious. What force will motivate the indomitable Crow? Does his conscience have a voice beyond indulgent self-interest? What of self-sacrifice?”
I didn’t appreciate either his smooth insults, or his reference to selfishness, but at the same time, my curiosity was piqued. “We wouldn’t want such burning questions to go unanswered, now would we?” I couldn’t think clearly with him literally breathing in my face. Impulsively, I licked the tip of my finger and wiped away an imagined blotch on the baron’s chin. It had the desired effect: he backed away as if he’d been stung.
I shrugged. “Smudge,” I said by way of explanation. Free at last, I sauntered back to the desk, dropped into the chair, and propped my elegantly clad feet on top. The elongated toes blocked my view of Duzayan, and I had to twitch them a little out of the way.
Tanris, nearly forgotten in the corner by the door, nearly choked on his indignation. His hand went to his sword hilt, but the baron held up one hand to forestall such foolishness and came to perch on the desk’s corner. The one farthest from me, thank the god of small favors.
“Do you place little value on your life, Crow? Or do you not believe I’m serious?” he asked.
I picked up the golden seal he used to imprint the wax on his correspondence and turned it over and over in my hand, just to give me something busy to do. “I know you’re serious. I also realize that my life doesn’t seem to be my own any longer.”
He smiled that wicked, shiver-inducing little smile. “No, it’s mine now.”
“What do I have to do to gain it back?”
“A job. One particularly suited to your talents.”
“My lord baron!” Tanris stepped forward, a look of outrage on his face. “That is not what we agreed to! He was to advise only!”
Ah, the seeds of dissent! I looked curiously from one to the other. Duzayan merely lifted a hand as though to wave off a buzzing fly.
“The game has changed, Captain,” he said. “We’ll discuss it in a moment.”
Stiff and angry, Tanris held his peace. It was the only sensible thing a common man could do against a wizard, particularly without reinforcements.
Duzayan continued to look at me expectantly.
“You want me to steal something?” There had to be more to it than that, there must be a catch. I frowned, remembering how he’d said that I must choose between the unbearable and the impossible. “Something from another wizard?” That would be a hazardous undertaking. Smart people don’t trifle with wizards. To the mere earth-bound, non-magical mind, a wizard is illogical. They don’t play by the same rules. They’re unpredictable, contradictory, and unreasonable.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, of course not. What kind of challenge would that be for a thief of your stature and renown?”
As if I would submit to being buttered up by a wizard. And a mocking wizard at that...
“I have something more ambitious in mind. I want you to steal a dragon’s egg.”
I nearly laughed out loud, but that routine had already proven too treacherous for my liking—with this crowd anyway. I restricted myself to a wide grin. “Dragons? Are you joking? There are no such things as dragons, except between the pages of children’s books and in old wives’ tales!”
“The learned know that all myths and folk tales have a basis in reality, my skeptical young friend.”
I chose to ignore his reference to my youth. He was a wizard—for all I knew he’d been alive practically forever, though if that was true one might expect him to have more common sense. “Prove it.”
Tanris made another strangled noise, and I glanced his way. His face was strangely contorted and had taken on a peculiar hue.
“Are you well?” I asked him. “Do you need a physician?”
“I—This—You cannot be serious, my lord!”
Duzayan waved him silent, which was just as well. The poor soul had completely lost the connection between his mouth and his brain.
Leaning toward me, the baron went on. “Here lies one of the beauties in our relationship: I don’t have to prove anything to you. You will do as I say or—” He shrugged expressively and smiled. “The choice is yours.”
“Not much of a choice,” I grumbled. “Besides impossible, what other restrictions will you affix to this little engagement?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone. I don’t trust sneaks, extortionists, or bullies. And I especially don’t trust wizards.”
Tanris risked dying of apoplexy.
Duzayan merely nodded. “Probably a wise course of action in your line of work.”
“Tell me the rules by which I am to play,” I said, dropping my feet to the floor and leaning my folded arms on the desktop.
“Of course. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”
I shrugged.
The baron went to a sideboard and picked up two of the silver-chased wineglasses there. With the other hand he lifted a crystal decanter. “White?”
I could easily have gotten into one of those interminable self-debates about the tricks wizards play. Did he offer the white because it was poisoned? Or did he offer it knowing that I’d know it was poisoned and thus choose the red? And if he knew that I knew the red was poisoned, then clearly I’d need to choose the white. “Red, please.”
He inclined his head gracefully and brought the glasses and decanter over to the desk. Setting them out, he poured the startlingly crimson liquid as he talked. Naturally, I watched. Closely. “I have only two stipulations. First,” he held up one finger, “you have four months in which to place the egg in my hands. Second, you will be working with a partner of my choosing.”
“I work alone, as I’m sure you know.”
“Have you a preference as to which glass you’d like to drink from?”
He’d performed the operation in front of me specifically—but did he plan to ease my natural mistrust or increase it? He had made every movement slowly and purposefully, and I had noticed nothing untoward. Such limited information by which to make a hasty judgement. My head began to ache. I supposed that if he planned on killing me outright the deed would have already been accomplished. I shrugged again.
He slid one of the glasses across the desktop. “This time you will have a partner or you will have that dark little room. You don’t think I trust you, do you?”
I didn’t like it. Still, being forced to accept a partner beat the alternative. I sipped my drink. It was delicious, very smooth, and assuredly costly. “How much input will this partner have?”
“Consider yourselves equals.”
I smiled and shook my head. “No one is my equal.”
“As a thief, no, I’ll give you that.” He sighed and looked off into space. “We went to a great deal of trouble to arrange this meeting.”
“Why didn’t you just ask?”
He chuckled. “Would that have made you any more amenable to going off on such a preposterous quest?”
Preposterous, indeed. How was I to find a nonexistent dragon egg and bring it back in four months? “Probably not, but you may have been able to persuade me, for the right price.” I took another wary drink from the wineglass. Just because a wizard didn’t place much value on
my life didn’t mean I felt the same way.
“And trust that you would keep your end of the bargain? I think not.”
I slouched down in the chair and tipped myself over to one elbow. “Doubtless you have a plan for assuring that I do keep my end of the bargain?”
“You agree to accept the task, then?”
“I’m suspending a decision until I hear all the details.”
He chuckled. “You almost make me wish that our business could have been taken on under different circumstances. You are possessed of an acerbic wit I find amusing. Few men are so at ease in my company.”
“I can’t begin to imagine why not.” I took another drink. I should exercise more caution, but it had been a long time since I’d had a glass of wine, and the presence of a wizard guaranteed trouble. “What insurance do you intend to use?”
“Nothing complicated—just the poison in your wine.”
As I should have expected. Still, my stomach flip-flopped and the hand in my lap convulsed into a fist. I pursed my lips and nodded, struggling to maintain a calm façade. “You put the poison in the glass before I came in.”
“Even so,” he nodded.
“You realize I’m not going to finish it.”
“I did take that possibility into account, yes.”
“How does it work?”
He settled back onto the corner of the desk and rubbed his hands together. “Actually, I’ve concocted my own unique recipe.”
Could my heart sink any further? Unless he told me what he’d used, identifying a combination of obscure ingredients would be nearly impossible. Talk about your needle in a haystack. “Who’s the partner to be?” I asked, as if the information he’d just delivered was of no import at all.
If he was disappointed to be robbed of gloating rights, he didn’t show it. “Tanris.”
I shot out of the chair with a yell. At the same moment, Tanris bellowed his dismay and moved swiftly toward us.
“Master, no!” he shouted. “I can’t work with him! How can you ask it of me? You know what I think of him! You know!”
“And will he not still be in your custody?”
“Yes, but—”
Duzayan raised a warning brow, and Tanris immediately fell silent, the horror upon his face unmistakable. “Who better to see that he behaves himself?”
“I do not need a nursemaid!” I growled.
“No doubt. In case the two of you haven’t concluded the obvious yet, this little exercise is crucial to me and to numerous others as well. You can hardly blame me for setting up a few safeguards.” He strode to the shelf-lined wall and opened a small cask. Withdrawing a nicely sized purse, he tossed it on the desk in front of me. It made an enticing sound. “Buy whatever supplies you need with this. You may work out the details however you please. If I may make a suggestion, I would advise that Tanris take charge of travel arrangements and whatever defensive measures might be needed. Crow will be responsible for acquiring the egg.” He might have said it was a suggestion, but it had the definite sound of an order.
“And if we happen to disagree on any of the particulars?”
“I don’t care. Draw straws.” He took a parchment from the shelf and handed it to Tanris. “This is a map to Hasiq jum’a Sahefal, where you will find the dragon. Memorize it and burn it.”
“What’s to keep us from killing each other?” Tanris growled. His hand tightened around the hilt of his knife, which was hardly a reassuring thing to see in my new partner.
“Self-preservation.” The baron sighed in exasperation and massaged one temple. Rather suddenly, he’d lost his appetite for baiting his victims. “You, Tanris, can’t steal the egg. And you, Crow, have no experience traveling in the wilds.” He strode to the door. “Come with me, both of you.”
— 4 —
Whatever Shall We Do?
Duzayan beckoned the waiting guards, and as we went past they fell in behind us. Down the corridor a little, he stopped in front of another door and rapped out a pattern. Just before he opened the door fully, he turned to us. “I should warn you before you go in. If either of you attempt anything heroic, the consequences will be, well… fatal.” He pushed the door open and stepped back.
Tanris and I both had a clear view of the room’s occupants. Bathed in the light that flooded the high windows stood two women. Their clothing was dirty and torn, and bruises marred their faces. They wore heavy chains. A pair of guards held each in position, knives poised at the women’s throats.
Shock turned my blood to ice. At that moment I hated Baron Duzayan more than I had ever hated anyone in my entire life. “Tarsha.” My voice came out strange and harsh, as though it belonged to someone else. My chest hurt with a sharpness of pain I never knew existed, and confusion threatened to overwhelm me. I did not expect her here.
Both of the women burst into tears. Beside me Tanris moaned and took two impulsive steps forward, dragging me out of my stupor. The guards’ knives twitched in their hands.
“No!” I shouted, grabbing him by the arm. “No.”
He stopped, reaching out to the other woman, his face etched with hopeless pain. “Aehana!” he whispered. “What have I done? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What has he done to you?” I asked them sharply. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Oh, Crow!” Tarsha wept. I had never beheld her so pale, or in such common clothing, either. The rags insulted her grace, though at least they covered her decently. “I—we’re fine. But I’m so frightened! What’s going to happen to me?”
“Baron?” I grated, clenching both my teeth and my fists. Tanris had the misfortune of having his arm still grasped in one of them.
“They’ll be fine, providing you both behave.” Supremely calm, untouched by the flaring emotions around him, Duzayan brushed invisible dust from one sleeve. “I even promise I’ll have them cleaned up and put in comfortable rooms until your return.”
Anger shook me to the core. I whirled to face him. “What good are your promises?”
He held his hands out in a placating manner. “Truly, I have no desire to harm them. They may even prove to be entertaining as well as decorative. At the moment they are but insurance of your cooperation. Deliver the article we’ve discussed within the allotted time, and they’ll be returned to you.”
I didn’t like it. What kind of man fought his battles using women as a shield? “I don’t trust you.”
“And why should you?”
“Why are you doing this?”
He tipped his head to one side and regarded me intently. “Balance,” he said at last. “Guards! Show them out.”
Abruptly, and with little care for our persons, the guards yanked us out into the corridor and the door shut behind us. The women screamed, their voices desperate.
“No! Wait!” I shouted. “We are not through here, Baron!” Shouting and protesting all the way, we were shoved brusquely to the main entrance and thrust out into the street. The great doors slammed and the bar behind them banged into place. Tanris whirled about and launched himself in a frenzy of rage at the doors, but they remained firmly closed.
The struggle through the halls had taken their toll on me. Leaning against one of the columns flanking the portals, I watched for several moments. “This isn’t going to help, Tanris.”
He whirled on me. “What are we going to do?” he shouted.
“I suppose we could kill him.” Little details stood in the way of this, namely the locked door and an army of guards.
He started to say something, then snapped his mouth shut. His shoulders slumped and his features drooped. “What are we going to do?” he repeated.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“My wife.”
Tanris was married? The notion struck me as absurd, but I refrained from commenting. Instead, I sighed and took off the stupid little hat to run my hand roughly over my well-oiled head. My knees wobbled, and my head swam. “We’ll come up with something. In the meantime, I need to sit down
somewhere. I’ve had far more excitement this afternoon than I can handle.”
“Curse that!” he shouted, abruptly angry again. “We can’t just leave them there! You got in before—you can do it again.”
There was such insistent hope in his eyes that I was reluctant to say anything. “Tanris, in case you’re forgetting, I was allowed in. And when I came out I was carrying a tiny pearl. I went over the rooftops and was nearly killed in the process. Even supposing I could get past the baron’s guards and the gods alone know what magical protections he’s put up, into just which pockets do you think I could stuff two full-grown women?”
He looked at me for the longest time before turning to stare for a while longer at the baron’s residence. “We can’t leave them there.”
“You said that.” I turned and walked down the street.
“Do you have a plan?” he asked, trotting up beside me.
His assumption that I could come up with an immediate and infallible solution should have been gratifying, but I found myself irritated. “Yes. The first thing I’m going to do is find something to eat. I’m going to wash. I’m going to rest. And I’m going to get rid of this ridiculous costume.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan?”
“So far.” Catching sight of a hackney down the street, I whistled and waved. “Would you care to accompany me, or would you rather meet somewhere later?” The carriage pulled up in front of us and I opened the door.
“Crow…”
I had never seen Tanris look so powerless, so lost, in all the years I had known him. To find that the man who had hounded and plagued me to distraction actually had a heart and could be vulnerable was—I don’t know what, but it bothered me. This wasn’t a side of him I wanted to see. “We’ll figure something out, Tanris.”
He nodded dumbly, blankly.
“You can find me later at the Loaf and Jug on Elm Street.” I climbed inside. He just nodded again and watched the vehicle move away down the street, wearing the look of the most woebegone hound in the world.
I paid for the ride out of the baron’s purse and settled myself at a table near the window in one of my favorite eating establishments—not the place I’d mentioned to Tanris, for I didn’t want to deal with him just yet if he should decide to follow me. Although I had eaten just a short while ago, I was still ravenous. I’d had too little to go on and too much adrenaline raging to find satisfaction with one little bowl of stew. When I had finished two plates of roast beef and potatoes, half a loaf of bread, a full quarter of an apple pie, and a pitcher of ale, I sat back and watched the traffic outside the window for a while.
As the Crow Flies: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 5