Lhind the Thief (14 page)

Rajanas whistled softly. “Eleven years ago. You were right
again, Thianra. Lhind is older than he—she—looks.”

Thianra said, “At least twenty, probably a couple years
older. I knew she was no child. The Hrethan are reputed to be very long-lived—”

At that moment Rajanas looked up at the doorway. “Kenned?”

The tall steward who’d met us in the courtyard had quietly
appeared. His long face lengthened into incredulity at the sight of me,
sparking my instinct to hide. I longed for the safety of my cowl, and the huge
knickers that disguised my tail.

At the sound of his name the steward started, then bowed
swiftly. “Kuraf is here, your highness,” he said.

His second glance at me was quick—and covert.

“Tell Kuraf I am on my way.”

The servant bowed again and left.

Rajanas got to his feet. He frowned slightly, then gave his
head a quick, sharp shake.

“Must you leave this moment?” Thianra protested. “I think we
need to decide right away what should be done about Lhind.”

“One of the promises he made when he signed the treaty with
Kuraf was that she has immediate access to him whenever he is in residence,”
Hlanan said. “And you may be sure she knows exactly when he appears.”

Rajanas smiled. “Besides, she never comes into town but for
a reason. Usually something I’d better hear right away.”

As he walked out of the room, I turned to Thianra, who was
pouring cider into the third goblet. “Who’s Kuraf?”

She looked in question at Hlanan, who said, “Leads a band in
the northern forests. Started as a thief under Ilyan’s grandfather, who was not
a good ruler. Later Ilyan and I joined her band . . .” Hlanan smiled, then he
gave a tremendous yawn. “It was great fun, but a long story that can wait. They
became allies, and she protects the northern marches, specifically the Idaron
Pass that leads down into Alezand. Her daughter’s in the Guard. In fact, you
were riding with her.”

“Kuraf sounds like somebody I’d like to meet!” I chortled.

A bright spot flickered, and Tir swooped into the room
through one of the open windows, flew around Hlanan’s head. “You found us,”
Hlanan exclaimed, and yawned again. Even with his watering eyes, he and the
bird made an appealing picture, creature and human, each so intent on the
other. “Welcome back, Tir,” Hlanan said. “Do you see Lhind here, do you recognize
her?”

I could have told him that Tir paid almost no attention to
things like outer appearance, but I still wasn’t ready to talk about
mind-speech. I had revealed enough secrets, and I was still braced for a nasty
result.

“Lhind! Lhind!” Tir shrilled, and lighted on the back of one
of the empty chairs. Then the bird flew out again.

Hlanan touched his forehead gingerly. “Somehow I suspect
Kuraf would either recruit you or challenge you to a duel.” He laughed, then
gave another jaw-cracking yawn. “Maybe Rajanas will invite her to stay. For
now, I think we had better get you situated, and I need desperately to get some
rest. The events of the last day, including that cursed transportation spell,
have given me a headache the size of a moon, and I can scarcely keep my eyes
open.”

“Perhaps you’d better arrange a room for Lhind first,”
Thianra murmured. She also yawned. “The one adjoining mine?”

Hlanan looked from her to me, blinked, then nodded. “I think
that would be best. I’ll see to it now. I need to move. That cider must be
harder than it tastes.” He rose, blinked rapidly, passed his fingers over his
eyes, then walked out.

Thianra set down her empty goblet, then leaned forward. “I
understand it’s probably offensive, and so I apologize, but I so badly wish to examine
your hair. It looks so much like . . .”

She reddened. I shrugged. My scalp twitched in response and
my hair drifted away, then returned and a few strands settled across her wrist.

She turned her hand over, letting the strands draw across
her palm. “It is! It really is feathered!” she exclaimed in delight. “That’s
why it looks so cloudy.”

“So’s my fuzz.”

I stuck out my arm, and she bent close to my wrist, saying
slowly, “It’s like down.”

“Thick up here,” I pointed to my scalp. “So it can lift.
Helps me balance when it’s free.”

Because we were alone, I gathered myself—for a little
strength had returned—and sprang to the back of the chair opposite the one on
which Tir perched. I balanced on my toes, my tail and hair moving to keep me
upright. Thianra’s eyes rounded. I couldn’t help showing off, and did a flip
right there, landing on my hands, my toes pointed upward. Then I pushed and
somersaulted in the air before landing.

Thianra clapped lightly. “No wonder you were so nimble
during that fight at the inn. How could you bear to have your hair bound under
that cap?” she asked sympathetically, as she poured herself more cider.

I shrugged. “Just remembered what happens to magic-makers in
Thesreve. Magic-makers and anyone who’s different.”

Her eyes narrowed. She knew what I was talking about. She
said, “Please pardon if the question is impertinent, but why the disguise? No,
I understand the swap between male and female, for convenience, but why a
child?”

“I don’t disguise myself as a child,” I said. “I just let
people think whatever they want to. Less trouble for me, that way.”

“Trouble?” she repeated. “I should think there would be
more. Unscrupulous persons always taking advantage of the young, the ignorant,
the weak, for preference.”

“And those I know how to avoid. Trouble
with . . . other kinds of things,” I said evasively.

She was giving me that steady gaze again, the minstrel
searching for the exact line to sum up a character in a song. Only I didn’t
want to be summed up.

“Would your reason be related to why your disguise was so
determinedly pungent?” She gave me a conspiratorial grin.

I had to laugh. “Yes! Amazing, how a convenient stench keeps
everybody at a healthy distance!”

She rubbed her eyes again, but before she could speak, Tir
flew back through the window and circled overhead, keening on a high, weird
note.

As I looked at Tir’s glittering ruby eye, an image flickered
into my brain—

“Trouble,” I said. “A long line of warriors, just beyond a
hill.”

“How do you know that?” she demanded.

“Mind to mind communication,” Hlanan said from the door,
even more hoarse than before. “Hrethan are supposed to be able to do that.
Though not everybody knows it. Rajanas just sent for me. Kuraf says that we’ve
got an invading force of some kind on the northern border. He wants us to get
out of the city as fast as we can, and take Lhind with us. He and the Guard are
securing things here, then will ride upland to seal the Idaron Pass, and Kuraf
is going to hold the city.”

Thianra rubbed a thumb against her teeth, frowning
furiously. “If only I wasn’t so tired,” she muttered. “My mind feels fogged. I
can’t think! Who’s out there?”

Hlanan shook his head. “They couldn’t see details, but no
banners.”

“Can we leave by magic transport?” Thianra said.

Hlanan winced. “Only if we have to. Without a fixed
Destination, and with the possibility of tracers by any sorcerers they’ve got
out there . . .”

Whatever that meant, it was enough to worry Thianra. “I’ll
fetch my gear.” She rose to her feet, stumbling against a chair. “Ho! I’m more
tired than I thought. Where do we meet?”

“Here,” Hlanan said after a dazed look around. “For if we
must use a magic transport, our own Destination makes it somewhat easier.” He
pointed toward the door to that little room where I’d been imprisoned by magic
so shortly before. Hlanan then turned to me. “Will you accept a suggestion? I
think you should wait here. Since you do not know your way around the
Residence. Then we three will depart.”

Thianra gave a quick nod and sped noiselessly away.

Hlanan lingered, studying me with a sort of absent
perplexity that indicated he was working on some kind of knotty problem. But
when he spoke, all he said was: “I shall return in just a few moments.” He
rubbed his eyes again, as if that would clear his head, and exited once more.

Tir left its perch, and sailed out the open window into the
bright air.

I expect you’ll never trust me
again
. His earlier words came back to me, along with the regret I’d seen
so plainly in his face. His care to make a suggestion—as though he had no right
to tell me what to do—was as puzzling as how important it seemed to him to be
trusted. Why would anyone want to be trustworthy? Unless you planned to use
those who trusted you?

Well, one thing for certain, I had most definitely
underestimated the power of trust. I’d lived without it so long, and yet I’d
come to trust Hlanan with an ease that could only be termed stupid. That trap
of his was a good reminder about what happens when you trust other humans.

I picked up Thianra’s empty goblet and poured out the last
of the cider, admiring the sparking golden liquid splashing into the burnished
gold of the cup. I wasn’t really thirsty, having enjoyed that wonderful meal so
recently, but one thing I did trust was my belief that I should eat and drink
good things while I had them at hand.

I was in the act of raising the cider to my lips when the
door to Hlanan’s magic room opened. I set the goblet on the mantel, wondering
how someone could have got past me to enter that little room, whose only
entrance was five paces from me.

Four figures emerged. Oh yes, wasn’t that room what they
called a Destination? A place where people could use transfer magic from one
spot to another.

The first one through the door moved with a characteristic,
arrogant lounge. Tall, long loose hair coppery gold, handsome, dressed for war
in an elegantly cut battle tunic, gauntlets to match his tall boots: Geric
Lendan. Whose last words in my presence were his suggestion to toss me
overboard.

He was followed by three warriors wearing undyed battle
tunics, with no markings of house or kingdom to identify them.

Geric’s light blue eyes widened in surprise—a surprise with
no recognition. Then he gave me a slow smile of appreciation.

And he bowed, as if I were a princess.

He gestured his three silent companions toward the outer
door. “A highly unexpected honor, Hrethan,” he said to me after the last
warrior closed the door. “I had not known Alezand counted your folk among his
friends. May I present myself, since no one appears to be nearby to perform
that office? Geric Lendan, Prince of the Golden Circle.” And he bowed
gracefully, hand over his heart.

I still had not spoken, and Geric waited, his expression
changing to one of speculation. “Is it possible,” he said slowly, still in the
language the others called Allendi, “you are new to our lowland tongues?”

Though I did not know this fellow, all the little clues of
face, of manner, convinced me that he wanted me to be ignorant of the local
language. That suited me very well, because how can someone question another
who cannot understand the language?

I spoke at last, faking a preposterous accent: “Ze
worrrdz . . . oh, zzzo hhhard . . .” I waved my
hands, then gave him a big smile.

And he smiled back, with the smirk of one who knows himself
master of the situation. Bowing again, he said slowly and distinctly (as if
that was going to create understanding in someone who didn’t know the
language), “Where is your host, Honored One?”

I spread my hands, my hair lifting. I watched him watch it,
his eyes widening in appreciation. When he wasn’t smirking or talking about
offal and throwing people overboard, he was very attractive. My heart pulsed
with the sweet power of attraction. Even stronger than magic spells was seeing
my attraction mirrored in his gaze.

For that moment, the entire world closed to the prince and
me, poised on the brink of endless possibilities.

I could have told Thianra that I wanted people to think I
was an urchin because then I could pretend moments like this didn’t exist,
except that they did. And I knew they did. The thing I needed to learn—I was
barely able to think at all—was that my ignorance about such matters made me
defenseless.

But I wasn’t entirely brainless.
This is the same fellow who wanted me tossed off the
yacht to drown
.

Indignation sparked. Was I really going to let myself be
inveigled by that handsome face?

No, I am not.

The door to the magic room opened again, and four more
warriors emerged, these ones dressed in gray surcoats, with deep hoods thrown
back over their shoulders. They spread out, swords drawn.

Geric made a curt gesture and they sheathed their weapons.
With a glance at me he said, in some other language, “Swift and silent. We are
not expected. And send in something to drink, two cups,” he added.

The four went out quickly, their mail tunics chinging
sinisterly at each step.

“Who izzat?” I asked, smiling brightly again, and pointing
after the four men in gray.

“Merely my honor guard,” Geric replied, coming forward
slowly. I noticed that he—possibly by accident—stood directly between me and
the outer door. “Will you drink with me, Honored One? And, how should you be
addressed?”

What kind of names did the Hrethan have? I thought
desperately, thinking over what little had been said about these mysterious
people. “Ah, in my tongue I am Bird Of Ze Snows,” I said cautiously.

And he took it without a blink. “A beautiful name, O
Beautiful One,” he said, saluting me.

One of the warriors reappeared at the door. “My lord
prince,” he began, holding out a tray with two silver wine glasses on it, and a
carafe cut from crystal.

Geric gave me a quick look, then moved forward to take the
tray. I looked out the window, trying to seem as if I was absorbed in high and
noble thoughts. Tir had disappeared again.