Ah, that looks about right. Slowly! Don’t jump at him, but stroll towards him.
Lebuin stepped out from his shadowed location, using every bit of grace he could muster, angling to intercept the Hand. He felt the Hand look him over, judging him worthy or not. As they came close, the Hand stopped and nodded.
“Ah, milord. Pray, whatever could have brought you here this wonderful evening?”
Lebuin held his response as Ticca had instructed him, before taking a step towards the Hand, closing the distance. Still not close enough to provide an intimate conversation, but closer. Lebuin stood tall.
I’m glad for my discipline training.
His voice dripping with disregard for any but himself, Lebuin answered, “I’m looking for a man. However, he seems to be late.”
The Hand looked at Ticca, then stepped in close enough for the conversation that would constitute proper business in the Night Market. The Hand responded, “Perhaps I might be of assistance?”
He took his time while examining the Hand’s appearance. The gold chain with a fob hanging from his doublet buttons was thick and rich. The doublet was a fine silk with an expertly stitched pattern of geometric shapes running through it. It was seamed well, so that the pattern was not mismatched on the edges.
He is wearing at least twenty crowns’ worth of clothing, and that fob chain is real gold. He must be highly placed, to be able to walk here, showing off these kinds of valuables.
The Hand did not protest the close inspection, and was doing the same to Lebuin. The Hand looked back at Lebuin’s face, trying to pierce the darkness of his hood.
Lebuin knew he had him. I’m wearing at least a full ten crowns more than you, and you know it. You really want to know who I am, don’t you? Time to run the gambit we planned.
Lebuin nodded as he extended his shields to cover Ticca, as well, but keeping them close to him on the side of the Hand so the Hand wouldn’t bump up against them.
“Yes, I believe you might be just the person. I am looking for the Confidences Hand who intercepted a leather package tied with golden threads. He did this by bribing a Knife. The exchange was here, fourteen weeks ago, on a Tuesday evening. The Knife, unfortunately, did not reveal who the Hand was, only where they met, and is no longer available for questioning.”
The Confidences Hand’s eyes went wider.
Ah, you know who I am looking for.
“I believe you may be in error, milord. Knives do not betray a commission.”
Lebuin waved his hand. “I am not stupid. You know exactly of what I speak. Now, how much do you desire to reveal your knowledge?”
The Hand took a step backwards. “Milord, you are mistaken. How would I know of such things?”
Ticca hissed a warning as six arrows bounced off his shields. Lebuin locked the Hand in place with magical bindings and spun, pulling his knives. Ticca had already drawn her own blades. Four shadows were approaching, knives out.
“You have a mage with you!” the Hand whispered with a hint of fear.
The shadows, seeing the arrows bouncing off the shields, paused. Ticca gestured for them to continue to get closer. Some of the other patrons and Hands were starting to take notice.
We have a reputation to uphold. Might as well keep these folks scared of us.
Lebuin stepped up to the Hand and placed his knife at the man’s throat. “Not exactly correct. I am a Magus, and I do not take kindly to being shot at.”
The Hand waved off his companions, who vanished back into the market areas. The Hand was sweating. “Milord, perhaps I can help you, after all.”
Lebuin looked around. Ticca was scanning. Not too far away, he saw Nigan and Risy were moving into position to provide additional support. “I’m listening.”
The Hand slowly reached up and gently pushed the knife away from his throat, swallowing hard. Lebuin allowed the action, then after seeming to consider it, sheathed the knife. The Hand smiled a hollow smile. “Your, ah, friend has not been seen for three weeks. But I can get word to him that you are looking for him.”
I know he can’t see my face, but he can see my mouth.
Lebuin let his mouth open into a toothy grin.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Tell him if I have to come to him, it will not be pleasant. He can reach me at the Mosia Tavern. Leave a message for Goninu with the barkeep. I will meet him there four marks later. He has three days to meet me. And he had better have that package! If he does not respond, I will be back, and I will not be happy.”
Lebuin pulled five silver crosses from his pouch and pressed them into the Hand’s palm, adding, “For your troubles.” Turning, he strode for the exit.
As they passed the exit, the shadows said, “Your pleasure, milord.”
Lebuin didn’t stop moving. He strode with a purpose, taking many turns seemingly at random, until they arrived at the prearranged rendezvous point. Turning, he looked at Ticca as Nigan and Risy came from a side alley.
Nigan whistled. “Wow, that was a hell of a performance. I doubt anyone in the Night Market will even cross your path without permission.”
OH, my Lords, how did I do that?
Since he was clear, he started to relax and couldn’t hold the trance state any longer. All the emotions he had been suppressing rushed him like a mob. He felt the blood drain from his head as his heart raced so fast, it felt like it was going to explode. His knees stopped holding him up, and he felt light as a welcoming blackness enveloped him.
- - -
Ticca was trying to control her breathing, as Lebuin went pure white and then started to fall backwards. Nigan was already there and caught him. Her own head was spinning from that narrow escape.
Lady, he really pulled that off.
Nigan looked at Lebuin lying on the ground. “I think he passed out.”
She nodded. “I wish he had held that trance until we were back at the tavern.”
Risy frowned. “Trance?”
“He used some kind of mage trance to hold himself together in there.”
Nigan laughed. “Great. And now, I get to carry him home. Wasn’t this supposed to be the other way around?”
CHAPTER 15
FOOLING A HAND USUALLY ENDS BADLY
Ticca sat across from Lebuin, watching the main room of the Mosia Tavern. In her mind, she reviewed the positions of her team. Ditani was on the roof across the street, wearing blending cloak she got from her uncle to provide recon, if needed. Nigan and Risy were roaming the street outside like idle shoppers, flipping their cloaks and trading hats, or just hiding their hats from time to time.
I bet they are loving this. I feel like I have a whole flock of butterflies bouncing around inside.
Around the room, she was able to make out the rest of her team, all playing varying roles in their disguises.
I wish I could have played the passed-out drunk. That would be a lot less work. Then she chided herself. No, this will be more exciting.
She checked that her lined gloves were tight, and tried not to fidget.
I need to project an air of danger as his bodyguard.
Her clothes were a little loose, but at least, not too hot. She had on a rough tunic with a vented leather, armored vest. She enjoyed the thought about the cross belt of knives she had on over her breasts.
I wanted to use this look and I was right. It does look a little showy, but in a ‘don’t mess with me’ style.
Her thug look was completed by the thin black-hooded cloak.
She regarded Lebuin.
He looks too relaxed. Lady, please let him keep from passing out again.
She leaned over and whispered, “Are you using that trance trick again?”
Lebuin didn’t move. All she could see was his mouth, as he had his hood pulled over to hide his face, just as she did. His mouth drew up into a smile.
“Promise me you are not going to pass out this time.”
The smile turned into a frown, which made her smile before she
regained control of her face, going back to the hardened lip line of a thug. Lebuin was dressed in some of his finest, along with the shadow cloak Lebuin had taken from the Knife she had killed at the beginning of all this mess.
The tavern was full that evening, even without her team there.
I’m glad it took two days before that Hand sent a message. Lebuin, at least, looked recovered last night.
A tall man with dark, clean-cut hair and a respectable goatee walked in, wearing at least a week’s pay for any guildsman. She recognized him instantly.
There you are.
The man looked around and wiped his brow with a cloth.
You knew who you double-crossed all along. It’s no wonder, you were hiding. Even though Duke cleared the city, you were worried they’d come for you. Well, tonight, your fears come true.
The Hand stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink. When the barkeeper gave it to him, he leaned in and whispered something. The barkeeper pointed at the table she and Lebuin were sitting at. The Hand touched his hat and handed the barkeeper a coin.
The Hand stepped over to the table. “Lord Goninu?”
Lebuin pointed at an open seat, which the Hand sat in, examining the rest of the barroom’s occupants.
“Milord, I understand you are looking for a parcel. I have brought it with me.” He reached into his cloak and then placed a brown paper-wrapped package that looked about the right size on the table.
Lebuin’s uncaring voice was perfect. “Good.”
Lebuin lifted a finger, and the package slid over to rest in front of him.
The Hand’s eyes kept glancing around the room. They all sat there for a minute while no one moved.
The Hand sipped his drink. “I trust it is acceptable.”
Lebuin flicked his finger again, and the string holding the paper together snapped. In his quiver-inspiring voice, Lebuin asked, “What is your name?”
The Hand swallowed some more of his drink. “Alansir, milord.”
“Alansir, you know who you betrayed. That is why you’ve been hiding.”
Alansir sipped his drink, trying to look confident. “I deal fairly, milord. I trust we can be business associates in future.”
Lebuin frowned, and Ticca pulled the cloth bag from her pouch which she had taken off the dead Knife the night their journeys together started. The same cloth bag filled with the same jewels she saw Alansir pay for the journal with.
I’m glad we were in the wilderness so much. I would have been tempted to spend some of these.
The purse still contained the same kingly sum that had caused a senior Knife to betray his commission.
Trying to exude deadliness, she brought the pouch up, where Alansir could see it. She opened it and poured its contents into her other hand.
Alansir’s eyes bulged, and he went white. You recognize it. She replaced the small bag into her pouch, leaning forward just enough to make it look like she might draw a knife and stab him.
Lebuin leaned forward, showing his teeth. “Alansir, who commissioned you to intercept our package?”
Alansir’s pupils dilated and his hand quivered.
Perfect. He bought it. He thinks we represent the Nhia-Samri that hired the Knife to kill Magus Vestul.
“I, uh, I really don’t know.”
“Knowing is your business, Alansir. Care to reconsider your answer? You know who we are.”
Alansir swallowed a few times and gulped air. Adjusting his collar, he wiped his forehead again with the cloth. “I mean, I don’t know for sure. However, I am pretty sure it was the representative of a duchess who was visiting that week.”
Lebuin didn’t respond, but sat still, looking at Alansir.
Alansir swallowed and continued, “Duchess Yillion Vransril Olmanna. It was one of her retainers. I’m sure he was working on her orders.”
Ticca snapped straighter and stared at Alansir.
Duchess Olmanna? The duchess that kept feeding us shaved ice and pastries? He can’t know we know her personally.
Alansir jumped at her movement, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I swear it, it was her guard captain.”
Lebuin nodded as if that confirmed something. He then gave her the all clear by causing the package to slide across the table to her.
Ticca forced herself back into the drama. Figure out the details later. It’s my turn now? Okay, it isn’t magically trapped.
Ticca pulled a knife out and with dramatic, precise motions, spread the outer wrapping paper, exposing a stiffer paper wrap around the core of the parcel. She sniffed.
I don’t smell any chemicals. But that doesn’t prove anything.
It would require using her hands to pull the folded and tucked sleeve of the inner wrappings to open them. Sheathing the knife, she unwrapped the parcel enough to look inside, making sure to only touch the paper with the tips of her left gloved fingers. There was a familiar leather journal tied tightly closed with thick, golden threads.
This is it. Vestul’s journal—and it hasn’t been opened.
Drawing a knife with her right hand, she used the sharp blade to cut a piece of the inner wrapping paper from the journal. She placed that paper in front of her on the table.
Alansir’s face broke out with sweat as she did this, and he was making sure to not look at the cut paper.
You are not used to being on this end of the deal, are you? Anyone would be curious about this action and look at the paper with interest. That you are not, tells us volumes. You are trying to double-cross us, too. Okay, let’s see where this goes.
Ticca did not push the package towards Lebuin, which was their not clear signal.
Lebuin shifted to face Alansir directly, holding out his hand as if to shake. Alansir smiled and reached out to shake hands. Lebuin moved fast, grabbing Alansir’s hand by the wrist and pushing it down on the table hard, palm up.
Alansir was sweating, and his palm was wet and shivered with fear. Ticca picked up the cut piece of paper and placed it on his hand with the inner surface, which faced the journal, touching his palm. He didn’t flinch.
He looked back and forth between them with horror. “Milord! I would not dream of poisoning you.”
Lebuin coldly replied, “We didn’t suggest poison. Why would you deny it?”
Lebuin, still holding Alansir’s hand to the table, lifted his other hand and wagged his finger at the Hand. Lebuin pointed at Alansir’s hand, causing Alansir to look at it. The slip of paper jumped up, flipped over, and landed on his palm so fast, he couldn’t react. All the blood drained from his face as he stared at it.
Ticca couldn’t resist. Oh, he deserves this!
She reached over and pressed it down hard into his sweating palm.
Lebuin released Alansir’s hand as Alansir whimpered.
Lebuin let his voice drop, sounding disappointed. “You failed, Alansir. I was going to pay you for this. However, I believe you need to seek an antidote. If you live, I suggest you consider moving to a colder climate. This city will be too hot for you.”
Alansir stood, knocking down his chair, and rushed out the door.
Ticca looked at Lebuin and whispered, “Between the two layers of wrapping. We will be followed. But don’t worry. We’ll let the team take care of them. Shall we go?”
Lebuin stood. She stood as well, and using her body, blocked the rest of the room from seeing as she reached down with her right gloved hand, which had not touched the dangerous side of the paper, and extracted the journal. She placed the journal on the table and stripped off her gloves, being careful to not touch where they may have come in contact with the poison. She placed the gloves on top of the wrapping paper.
Twisting the selector on her pouch to an empty compartment, Ticca slid the journal in. It fit perfectly, which didn’t surprise her.
Magus Vestul made this pouch to carry the journal. I am sure of that.
Closing her pouch, she moved the selector back to the compartment with her fake journal and th
e coin purse with a few copper pence in it, and locked the rocker so the selector wouldn’t move by accident.
Lebuin gestured, and her gloves and the wrapping paper lifted off the table, compressing into a tight ball that burst into a bright blue flame. In a few seconds, only ash remained, which dropped into Alansir’s half-empty mug.
Lebuin used his normal voice as they left. “You know, I enjoyed that.”
“Me, too. It is about time someone gives some fear back to these Night Market Hands. By the way, you said you had some thoughts on that statue of Kliasa?”
Lebuin nodded. “It is a strange thing to put there. From Vestul’s notes, it isn’t really a statue; it’s a physical reflection of her essence. It is identical to that small one I showed you in the tower.”
“You mean it is Kliasa? How can that be? Vestul wouldn’t be so cruel as to trap someone frozen like that, especially Kliasa. And you know as well as I, she is not trapped.”
Lebuin shook his head. “No, it isn’t her. But in a way, it is. I need more time to explore the idea. I couldn’t find much more than references to what he did at the tower.”
Why would Vestul put a reflection of Kliasa in front of a market? This makes no sense.
Hiri-Rula sipped her tea as she reread the outpost history book’s chapter on the original founding two thousand years ago.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, about that power source.
She leaned back and looked at the wall of books next to her.
Over two thousand years of Nhia-Samri history with no mention of when the new odassi blades began to be used, or any mention of this magical power source. I know the contents of my outpost’s library, as well, and there is nothing there.
She caressed the hilts of her ancient odassi blades. What are you, really?
No answer came. That was expected. She had been asking those same questions since arriving there. The warlord had granted her permission to investigate the power source. It wasn’t long afterward that she discovered she could open the panel with a spoken command, the same as the warlord.
Thread Strands (Golden Threads Trilogy) Page 36