A Glimmer of Guile

by Mary Patterson Thornburg

  "Trustworthy, I told you," he said impatiently. "Sly, but I've dealt with him before. I have no fears of him cheating me, Daughter."

  "It's not cheating that worries me. What I want to know is how I can get him to let me stay with you. What's a weakness I could take advantage of?"

  He shrugged. "He's no doubt scared of witchery. I suppose you could use that."

  "Oh, for pity's sake, Father. If he finds out I'm a witch, he's certainly not going to let me stay. Let me put it plainly. I'm going to disguise myself with an illusion, and I want to know what he'd like. The sort of woman he'd want to look at."

  Father pursed his lips demurely. "That I wouldn't know."

  "You do know, and you don't like it. Now tell me."

  He glanced at Jareth. "Well, it's common talk that on the docks he picks out the humblest girls. And the least lovely."

  "Sounds like a charming man. Something like this?" In front of Father's shaving glass I executed a small shift. He shuddered.

  "Not quite that bad, Daughter. And maybe a little, um, fuller, in the, um...."

  "All right." I softened the features and gained a few pounds. "Is this better?"

  He nodded, again reluctantly. "That should do it. It must be a strange lot of women you've been living with, Vivia, to teach you something like that."

  "Actually, it was a man who taught me something like this."

  * * * *

  On the way downstairs I touched the old man's arm. "Remember, don't speak to me. Point. I don't understand a word. I'm along to carry the cases, and I'll stay in the hall until you get him to open the door. When he sees me, there should be no problem." If the man could be beguiled, I was sure I could accomplish it.

  Father rapped and the door opened minimally. After a whispered few words he went inside, leaving me in near darkness. Soon the door opened wider. The Maalian trader stood just inside, squinting. He was a short, broad man in his forties, with small, hooded eyes and a beetling brow. I let him peer while I took his measure. Primitive, he was, but intelligent enough to be influenced by guile. His weakness was a lust for wealth, I saw.

  I also saw something that confirmed what Father said about his taste in women. I stepped forward with a shy grin and nudged his mind with a touch of desire--a small one, since I wasn't eager to fight off a rape. An excited light showed in his eyes for just an instant.

  "Your son's woman?" he said, over his shoulder. Behind him, Father shrugged.

  "His choice, not mine. He's no great prize himself."

  Krinos looked back at me. "Why's she here, Cyra? I told you, no one."

  Father shrugged again. "She wanted to come. She asked and I gave in. I'll send her back if you like. I can bring the cases from there."

  Good for you, Father.

  "She asked? I thought you said she was mute."

  "She and Jareth communicate, after a fashion."

  The trader looked at me again and laughed coarsely. "I've no doubt. I believe I could communicate with her, myself. Let her come in."

  Father motioned impatiently to me. I entered the room and crossed to the table, deposited the two cases, and went to a darkened corner to stand timidly, watching. Krinos let his eyes linger on me for a few seconds, and then turned to the business at hand. Father opened the cases on an array of jewelry, and they both examined it, briefly and silently. Then the haggling began.

  I have a knack of listening to such exchanges and hearing the overtones, the inflections and pauses that tell what the words don't. Clearly, Father's goods were worth as much as the Maalian would eventually agree to pay for them, and probably worth no more. The two men seemed aware of this. They were going through a formal ritual, and both were committed to it from lifelong habit.

  But something else was on both their minds. Listening, I knew each had dismissed me from the front of his consciousness. At length they arrived at a price for the goods and shook hands on it. Then I sensed a note of anticipation from both of them. Krinos spoke, carefully casual. "As to the other..."

  Despite his best effort, Father couldn't help glancing briefly toward me. "I have it," he said in a low voice. "Here, with me. We've already come to terms on it, I believe."

  "If it's what you say." The Maalian, too, lowered his voice, but for no other reason than to match Father's. Whatever they were talking about was very much on his mind, and I knew he'd forgotten me completely. "Let me see it."

  The old man turned his back to me and pulled something from the breast pocket of his tunic. He and Krinos moved closer to the strong light from the lamp on the table. Father stood by while the other bent to examine the object through an eyepiece. Neither said a word, but I could feel the Maalian's mounting excitement.

  When the trader spoke, however, his voice was cool and controlled. "I must take a look at this in the sun's light."

  My father bridled. "Don't be foolish, man. You know it's genuine. If there were another like that, even flawed, we'd both know of it, and we don't."

  "True. I know it isn't glass. But I'm familiar with it only by repute. What if there were a small flaw? My offer would go down, of course."

  "I tell you there's no flaw. It's as perfect a thing as was always said. And you know it in this light. Don't pretend you don't."

  Krinos shrugged. "Ten years ago I could've told in this light. Not today." He looked at the old man coolly. "And you can't tell, Cyra, in any light. I saw the rings and other ornaments, and I've been watching you. I'm not a fool."

  I felt my father fighting to keep from glancing at me again, a battle he won with difficulty. "I made sure," he said. "You don't think I'd have gone to the trouble and the risk, coming all the way here, to bring you a flawed gem. I'm no fool myself."

  Krinos took out a purse. "Think what you like. I'll examine that in the light of day before I buy. For the other things, here's payment. Count it if you wish."

  "I do wish." Father counted methodically before pocketing the coins. "In the morning we'll meet in the courtyard." He sounded glum.

  "No. I'm going to see these things transported to my ship tonight. We'll meet by the docks tomorrow. Or not. Again, as you wish."

  Father regarded him angrily for a few seconds. "Not much choice, have I?"

  "That's right," Krinos agreed. "But if I like what I see, another few hours won't cost you anything." With a sidelong look at me, he grinned unpleasantly. "In fact, since you don't need any help carrying your purse back to your own room, I could sweeten it just a bit if you'd leave her here for a time. An hour or two would do."

  To my considerable alarm, I saw Father hesitate. Then he winced as I caused him to bite his tongue, hard.

  "No, I can't do that. Jareth would make life difficult for me." He gestured violently and I followed him into the hall, meek as a mouse.

  As soon as we were out of earshot, he turned to me with a pained look. "Why did you do that, Daughter? I'm injured."

  "You know why. You were thinking about leaving me there."

  "Before God, I wasn't at all! And anyway, if I had, you're surely skilled enough in illusion to make him think..."

  "That's disgusting," I told him. "He was disgusting, as you must know. It's not pleasant, looking into the mind of a creature like that."

  "And you found out just what I told you you'd find out, nothing. My throat wasn't cut. I wasn't robbed. Our business went well."

  "Your business did not go well. You have to meet him tomorrow on his own ground, or you'll be left with a little item for which there's no market but great demand."

  "How do you--what makes you think that?"

  "Look." I stopped to face him. "I know what you have there in your tunic. Not by witchery, just simple deduction. Do you want me to tell you what it is?"

  He knew I knew, but stubborn as ever he gave me a defiant look. So I told him.

  Years before, the chief jewel of the High King's treasure, an enormous blue diamond called the Sea Star, set among big sapphires in a metal so rare it has no name but purity, had bee
n stolen from the King's court. No one knew exactly when the theft had taken place, because the jewel on display, mounted in the boss of the High King's ceremonial shield, had been a counterfeit. It was only when the real Sea Star was to be substituted at the consecration of a royal wedding that the loss was discovered.

  Rewards were offered, tortures carried out, but the stone never surfaced. There were rumors over the years that the blue diamond had found its way to Maal, or that the High King himself had sold it to some unknown purchaser. But the most commonly held belief was that the thief, or whoever the thief had sold it to, still had it, unable to find a buyer he could trust. For the Sea Star was worth a fortune, more than Maltuk could pay, most likely, and the High King was said to have agents still looking for it.

  "Where did you get it?" I asked Father. "Surely you weren't the original thief?"

  He met my eyes. "The thief is dead, not by my hand. More than that I won't tell you, Daughter, witch me as you will."

  I glared at him and he drew back, muttering.

  "At least you could drop that disguise."

  "When we get back to our rooms. And, fine, I don't want to know where you got it. The point is, you're going to sell it now, or you think you are, to a man you have absolutely no reason to trust. Are you even sure Krinos is his real name?"

  "Of course I am," he blustered. "I've traded with him before, I tell you. He may be a brute in some ways, but his business dealings have always been straight."

  "Then why didn't he buy the thing tonight? I can't read his thoughts, but I could tell he hadn't any doubts about its value. How long has he known you have it?"

  "Long enough to make preparations for buying it. He can't pay what it's worth, of course, but his offer is far better than any other I could get. I told him, Daughter, and I tell you, I'm not a fool." The answer was smooth enough, but Father was unable to guard his feelings from me, and I sensed a tug of doubt and another of guilt. The Maalian may not have known until recently that the old man possessed the Sea Star, but he'd guessed it, probably at their first meeting, probably because Father had dropped certain hints.

  I grabbed his shoulder. "Father," I whispered urgently, "listen to me. You're in real danger. I'm serious. You have to leave the inn tonight, now, through a back door. We'll walk through the night, not on the road. I can take precautions so we won't be recognized. If we're lucky, the Maalian isn't having you watched and won't have you followed. He believes you'll bring the stone to him in the morning, after all.

  "But you have to get rid of it. Fast. And then you have to go somewhere and stay out of sight. That man won't forget you, and he'll kill you if he finds you, whether you have the stone or not."

  He stared at me, doubt and greed wrestling in his mind. Greed won. "Nonsense," he said finally. "Why are you borrowing trouble, and such ridiculous trouble at that? Does your life lack drama, Daughter? I'm not going anywhere tonight, and I am going to get rid of this--" He couldn't bring himself to name the thing. "--tomorrow. As he and I agreed.

  "This is my fortune, girl. And Jareth's, and the other boys', and yours, too, if you're half as clever as you pretend to be. I've had it for years, for your lifetime almost, and this is the best chance I've had to be done with it and be paid for the trouble it's caused me in my mind. My only chance, probably. What would you have me do, toss it into a trash heap? Give it to a beggar?"

  "Throw it in the sea," I said. "And pray that if a fish swallows it, it's a fish caught by the High King himself. Whoever else finds that stone and tries to sell it will pay much too great a price for the privilege. Now that your Maalian knows you have it, it's worth less than nothing to you. Can't you see that? Because when he has it, there'll be one other man who knows, and he can't afford that."

  "Nonsense," he said again. "He'll have bought my silence, Daughter. My word has always been valued. You'll see, if you're not afraid to come with us in the morning."

  "Oh, I'm coming with you, all right. You couldn't stop me."

  By rights this wasn't my problem, I reflected. My father had given me away a long time ago, and I had other, urgent business. But he was my father after all.

  What I expected was that the Maalian would entice Father into some secluded spot, wait until the Sea Star was produced, and attempt to kill the old man quickly and noiselessly. My magic should be enough to spirit Father away or to disable the trader, even at a small distance, but I might require Jareth's help. After a night's troubled sleep, I took my brother aside and told him to arm himself.

  "Oh, I always carry my knife handy, you know," he assured me. "Father's business is sometimes..." He struggled for a good word.

  "Delicate?" I suggested.

  He nodded gloomily. "He takes too many chances. Our brother Milo used to be able to talk him out of some of them. But he won't listen to me, Vivia."

  We left the inn early and went down to the docks. What happened then was something I should have suspected, but didn't until too late.

  The area was crowded with people, busily going about their commerce or plying their trades: porters, fish-sellers, dealers in all kinds of merchandise.

  Krinos was there, waiting just outside the door of a warehouse, smiling broadly. He greeted Father like an old friend, clapping him on the back, with scarcely a glance at Jareth and none whatsoever at me, although I had recreated the previous night's illusion. I saw his ship at her mooring far out in the harbor, under a Honoan flag, as Jareth had said it would be.

  "Well, Cyra," said the trader, in a booming, hearty voice. "I see you looking hale, none the worse for the morning's walk. And a fine day for business, is it not? But I fear I've little time for talk. I sail with the tide. Have you the merchandise?" It seemed strange that he made no effort to draw Father away from the bustling scene, and more strange that there was no awareness of me in his mind. I'd supposed that his interest might have increased, rather than lessened. But his attention was all on Father and the Sea Star.

  I looked around at the crowd again and saw this time what I should've seen, felt what I should've felt, to begin with. The buyers and sellers, porters and clerks, even the straggling of beggars, were all fit young men. There wasn't a woman in sight. And the air was suddenly, overwhelmingly, thick with tension.

  Even as I realized what was about to happen, I knew that part of it had already begun. "Jareth!" I yelled. "Now!"

  At the same instant the Maalian drew a dagger from its concealment under his cloak and ran my father through where he stood. All around us were men with knives. Out of the warehouse poured several dozen more, and these made off at a run for the town. Still in my guise as a simpleton, but moving more quickly than I ever had, I went for Krinos, pulling my own knife from my skirts as I did so, and paralyzing the man with my guile. I had no plan except to kill him, for I'd seen my father lying lifeless on the ground.

  But before I reached the Maalian, a heavy blow caught the back of my head and I dropped to my knees. The last thing I saw was Jareth falling backward. Then darkness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Waking, I felt the world pitch rhythmically and smelled a musty mixture of close dankness and brine. My first thought was to be glad I wasn't one of those witches who feel sick at the motion of water, for I knew I had a rough voyage ahead of me, across the stormy North Sea to Maal. No question I was aboard the trader's ship--the pirate's, I corrected myself. Whatever Krinos had been in his earlier dealings with my father, he was obviously engaged in raiding and piracy now.

  I opened my eyes. I was below decks, not in complete darkness but so near to it that I had to make a small light to examine the space I was in: narrow, cramped, barely long enough for the lumpy cot I lay on. My wrists and ankles were bound, my hands behind my back.

  My mouth was stuffed with a rag and bound with a strip of some rough cloth. I remembered what I'd heard of a Maalian superstition, that a witch's strength was in spoken words. That belief, I thought, might give me an edge.

  I turned my thoughts to the scene at the d
ocks, and when tears came I blinked them back. There'd be time for grieving later. Now I had to assess my situation and think hard about how to get out of it, or I'd soon be dead too, like Father and Jareth.

  Krinos's men had come in boats from his ship in the dark of night, I supposed. By stealthy murder they'd gained control of the docks, warehouses, and offices. As the day dawned they'd taken care of each newcomer, replacing every dead man or woman with one of their own number, awaiting the pirate's order. The pirate himself had waited for my father's arrival with the Sea Star. His hearty greeting to Father had been the signal to some of them to move toward the city and the court while their leader pursued his own business.

  I was certain I'd not been unconscious for too many hours. That meant the raid must have been on a smallish scale, with the raiders returning to their ship promptly. This, in turn, suggested that they'd been involved in some of the pillaging I'd heard about farther east. The northern court and city by themselves couldn't have been worth a single hazardous voyage. Krinos must have characterized this stop, to the ship's crew, as a bonus exploit on the way home. He'd kept his real reason for going there--the Sea Star, of course--a secret.

  The fact that he'd let me live didn't surprise me. Father and I had fooled him, he'd not guessed I was a witch, and by the time he realized it Father was dead, beyond his vengeance. So, although it didn't matter now, he'd take out his frustration on me.

  The cord that bound my wrists seemed a little less than snug, and I strained against it. I'd managed to loosen it when I heard footsteps and a key in the lock. I doused my witch-light and scooted across the mattress to lean against the bulkhead, facing the door and not bothering to recreate the illusion of the evening before. After all, that had disappeared when I'd been knocked unconscious, so the man had already seen me as I actually appeared.

  Krinos stooped and entered, bearing a covered lamp. The light revealed a small table in one corner, over which he hung the lamp, and a hanging chair. He relocked the door behind him and sat down. I did not make a sound. I'd seen this man kill my father. My brother, too, was surely dead, if not by the pirate's hand at least at his order.