Dragonlance 12 - Raistlin Chronicles - Soulforge (28 page)

"Your ears are playing tricks on you," Kit said after a moment's pause, during which both had listened intently.

"I heard something, I tell you," the man insisted.

"It must have been a cat, then. No one comes here this time of night. Let's get down to business."

Raistlin could see the flash of moonlight off the hilt of Kit's sword; she had drawn aside her cloak to remove a leather scroll case she carried tucked into her belt.

"Maps?" the man asked, looking down at the case.

"See for yourself," she said.

The man unscrewed the end and drew out several sheaves of paper. He spread these out, partially unrolled, on the lid of the water barrel, studied them in the moonlight.

"It's all there," Kit said complacently, pointing with a gloved finger. "Plus more than your lord asked for. The defenses of Qualinesti are delineated on the main map: number of guard posts, number of guards posted, how often the guards are changed, what type of weapons they carry, and so forth. I walked the entire border of Qualinesti myself twice. I've marked on a different map weak spots in their defense, possible areas of penetration, and I've indicated the easiest access routes from the north."

"This is excellent," the man said. He rolled up the sheaves of paper, slid them carefully back into the scroll case, and tucked the scroll case into the top of his boot. "My lord will be pleased. What else have you learned about Qualinesti? I hear you've taken a half-elf lover who was born in—ulp!"

Kit had grabbed hold of the ties of the drawstring on the man's hood. Giving them an expert twist, she jerked him, half strangled, toward her.

"You leave him out of this!" she told him, her voice soft and lethal. "If you think I would demean myself by sleeping with any man in order to gain information, you're wrong, my friend. And you could be dead wrong if you say or do anything to make him the least suspicious."

Steel glinted in the moonlight; Kit held a knife in her other hand. The man glanced down at it, glanced again at Kit's eyes, flashing brighter than the steel, and he raised his hands in deprecating agreement.

"Sorry, Kit. I didn't mean anything by it."

Kitiara released him. He rubbed his neck where the drawstring had exit into it. "How did you get away tonight?"

"I told him I was spending the evening with my brothers. I'll have my money now."

The man reached beneath his cloak, brought out a purse, and handed it over.

Kitiara opened the bag, held it to the light, and estimated the amount of the money quickly by eye.

She held up a large coin, studied it, then tucked the coin into the palm of her glove. Pleased, she tied the purse to her belt.

"There's more where that came from if you happen to pick up any additional information about Qualinesti and the elves. Information that you just happen to find 'lying around.' "

Kitiara chuckled. The money had put her in a good mood. "How do I contact you?"

"Leave a message at The Trough. I'll stop by whenever I'm passing this way. But won't you be traveling north soon?" he asked.

Kit shrugged. "I don't think so. I'm happy enough where I am for the time being. There's my little brothers to think of."

"Uh-huh," the man grunted.

"They're getting to the age where they could be of some use to us," Kit continued, ignoring him.

"I've seen them around town. The big one we could use as a soldier maybe, though he's clumsy as a kobold and looks about as bright. The other, though—the magic-user. Rumor has it that he's quite talented. My lord would be pleased to have him join his ranks."

"Rumor has it wrong! Raistlin can pull a coin out of his nose. That's about it. But I'll see what I can do." Kit held out her hand.

The man took hold of her hand, shook it, but didn't immediately let go. "Lord Ariakas would be pleased to have you join us as well, Kit. On a permanent basis. You'd make a fine commander. He said so."

Kit removed her hand from the man's grasp, placed it on the hilt of her sword. "I didn't know His Lordship and I were on such familiar terms," she said archly. "I've never met the man."

"He knows you, Kit. By sight and by reputation. He's impressed, and this"—the man indicated the map case—"will impress him further. He's prepared to offer you a place in his new army. It's a great opportunity. One day he will rule all of Ansalon, and after that all of Krynn."

"Indeed?" Kit lifted her eyebrow. She appeared impressed. "He doesn't think small, does he?"

"Why should he? He has powerful allies. Which reminds me. How do you feel about dragons?"

"Dragons!" Kit was amused. "I think they are fine for scaring the wits out of little children, but that's about all. What do you mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You wouldn't be fearful of them, would you?"

"I fear nothing in this world or the next," Kit said, a dangerous edge to her voice. "Does any man say different?"

"No one says different, Kit," the man responded. "My lord has heard us all speak of your courage.

That's why he wants you to join us."

"I'm happy here," Kit said, shrugging off the offer. "For the time being, at least."

"Suit yourself. The offer— By Takhisis, I heard that!"

Uncomfortable prickling sensations had been shooting up the backs of Raistlin's legs. He had tried to shift his foot, wiggle his toes, and he'd tried to do it silently. Unfortunately the board on which he stood was loose and creaked loudly when his foot moved.

"Spy!" the man said in his cold voice.

A flutter of black cloak, a leap, and a bound, and he was standing in front of Raistlin, his strong hand gripping Raistlin's cloak. Words of magic flew out of the young mage's head on wings of terror.

The man dragged Raistlin out from behind the tree. Forcing him to his knees, the man yanked off the hood of Raistlin's cloak. He grabbed a handful of Raistlin's hair, jerked his head back. Steel flashed red in the moonlight.

"This is what we do to spies in Neraka."

"You fool! Stop!" Kitiara's arm slammed into the man's hand, knocking the arm backward and the knife to the boardwalk.

The man turned on her in fury, his lust for blood hot. The point of her sword at his throat cooled him.

"Why did you stop me? I wasn't going to kill him. Not yet, anyhow. He'll talk first. I need to know who's paying him to spy on me."

"No one's paying him to spy on you," said Kitiara scornfully. "If he's spying on anyone, he's spying on me."

"You?" The man was skeptical.

"He's my brother," said Kitiara.

Raistlin crouched on his knees, his head bowed. Shame and embarrassment overwhelmed him. He could have wished to die rather than face his sister's wrath and, worse, her disdain.

"He's always been a little snoop," said Kitiara. "We call him the Sly One. Get up!"

She cuffed Raistlin across the face hard. He tasted blood.

To his astonishment, after she'd struck him, Kitiara put her arm around his neck, hugged him close.

"There, that was for being bad," she said to him playfully. "Now that you're here, Raist, let me introduce you to a friend of mine. Balif is his name. He's sorry he scared you like that. He thought you were a thief. Aren't you, sorry, Balif?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," said the man, eyeing Raistlin.

"And you were acting like a thief, skulking around in the night. What are you doing out this late, anyway? Where were you?"

"I was with Weird Meggin," said Raistlin, wiping blood from his split lip. "She had found a dead fox. We were dissecting it."

Kit wrinkled her nose and frowned. "That woman's a witch. You should stay away from her. So, little brother," Kit said offhandedly, "what did you think about what Balif and I were discussing?"

Raistlin looked stupid, copying his twin's blank stare and dumbfounded expression. "Nothing." He shrugged. "I didn't hear that much of it. I was just walking by, and—"

"Liar," growled the man. "I heard a noise when we first started talking, Kit. He's been there the whole time."

"No, I haven't, sir." Raistlin spoke in conciliatory tones. "I was going to walk past, but I heard you mention dragons. I stopped to listen. I couldn't help myself. I have always been interested in stories of the old days. Particularly dragons."

"That's true," said Kitiara. "He's always got his nose in a book. He's harmless, Balif. Quit worrying.

Run along home, Raist. I won't mention the fact that you've been with that witch woman to anyone."

His gaze met hers.

And I won't mention to Tanis the fact that you've been out in the night with another man, Raistlin promised her silently.

She smiled. They understood each other perfectly sometimes.

"Go along!" She gave him a shove.

Muscles stiff and aching, fear and blood leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste that sickened him, he made his way across the boardwalk. Hearing sounds of footsteps and afraid that Balif was coining after him, Raistlin glanced back.

Balif was leaving by the stairs, his cloak swirling around him.

Kitiara had fished the coin out of her glove. She flipped it into the air, caught it. Leaning over the rail, she called after him, "I'll keep in touch!"

Raistlin heard the man's brief, cold laughter. Footsteps continued on the stairs and then died away as the man reached ground level.

Kitiara remained standing by the water barrel, her head lowered, her arms crossed over her chest.

She was deep in thought. After a moment, she shook herself all over, as if shaking off all doubt and questions. Drawing her hood close to conceal her face, she set off at a brisk pace.

Raistlin took a circuitous route home, one that was longer but would insure he did not cross his sister's path. He mulled over Kit's conversation, trying to ferret out a meaning, but he was too stupid with fatigue to make any sense of it. His body was drained. It was all he could do to force himself to place one foot in front of the other, trudge the weary way back home.

Caramon would be awake, worried sick, asking questions.

Raistlin smiled grimly. He wouldn't have to lie. He would simply say that he'd spent the evening with their sister.

The twins turned twenty that summer. Their Day of Life Gift was supposed to have been a joyous celebration. Kitiara gave them a party, inviting their friends to the Inn of the Last Home, treating them to supper and all the ale they could drink, which, in the dwarf's case, was an alarming amount.

Everyone was having a good time, with the exception of the guests of honor.

Raistlin had been in a foul mood since spring, more than usually sarcastic and bitter, especially with his brother. Their mutual birthday, with its necessary reminders of their dead parents, only appeared to sharpen the edge of his bad humor.

Caramon was glum, having just heard the news that Miranda, the girl he currently adored, had suddenly up and married the miller's son. The unseemly haste with which the wedding was held gave rise to speculations of the most scandalous nature. Caramon's disappointment in the matter was lightened somewhat when he noticed that news of Miranda's nuptials actually brought a smile to Raistlin's face. The smile was dark and unpleasant, not the sort of smile that warms the heart, but it was a smile. Caramon took this as a good sign and hoped fervently that his currently unhappy home life would improve.

The Day of Life Gift party lasted well into the night, and the warmth and good spirits of everyone else soon thawed Raistlin's chill. This was the first celebration Kitiara had attended for her brothers since they were small, almost too small to remember. These past months were the longest period of time she had spent in Solace since her girlhood.

"For a backwater town, it isn't nearly as boring as I remember," she replied in answer to Raistlin's caustic query. "I don't have to be anywhere, not for a while, at least. I'm having fun, baby brother."

She was in wonderful spirits that night, and so was Tanis Half-Elven. The two sat next to each other and their mutual admiration was obvious. Each watched the other with warm, bright eyes. Each urged the other to tell favorite stories. With secret smiles and sidelong glances, each reminded the other of some joke known only to the two of them.

"Tonight's celebration is on me," said Kit, when it came time to settle the reckoning. "I'm paying for everything."

She tossed three large coins onto the table. Otik, his broad face beaming, reached out for them.

Raistlin deftly slid his hand under Otik's, snatched up one of the coins, and held it to the light.

"Steel. Minted in Sanction," Raistlin observed, studying them. "Newly minted, I would say."

"Sanction," Tanis repeated, frowning. "That city has the reputation of an evil place. How did you come by coins from Sanction, Kit?"

"Yes, where did you find such an interesting coin, Sister?" Raistlin asked. "Look at this—it has a five-headed dragon stamped on it."

"An evil image," said Tanis, looking grave. "The ancient sign of the Dark Queen."

"Don't be silly! It's a coin, not some evil artifact! I won it playing at bones with a sailor," Kit said, her crooked smile limpid. "Lucky at bones, unlucky at love, so they say. But I proved them wrong.

The very next day, I met you, lover." She leaned over to Tanis, kissed him on the cheek.

Her tone was easy, casual, her smile genuine. Raistlin would never have had reason to doubt her if he had not seen that coin, or one like it, sparkle in Lunitari's light only a month ago.

The half-elf believed her; that much was certain. But then Tanis was so besotted with Kitiara that she could have told him she'd sailed to the moon and back on a gnome ship and he would have asked her for details of the voyage.

None of the others questioned her either. Flint regarded all his friends with a patronizing, grandfatherly air, which was degenerating rapidly with every ale the dwarf drank. Tasslehoff roamed happily around the inn, much to the dismay of the other customers. The members of the party took turns rescuing people from the kender, who, after two pints of ale, was wont to regale them with his favorite Uncle Trapspringer stories. Flint and Tanis returned the customers'