Liar's Island: A Novel (12 page)

“I wish to take Hrym into my service,” the thakur said. “I realize this will be a great inconvenience to Rodrick, as Hrym aids him in his ongoing quest for fortune, and so…”

Nagesh took his cue. “And so the thakur, in his generosity, offers you jewels and gold, more than enough to see you in comfort for the rest of your life, so that you need seek your fortune no further.”

Rodrick nodded. He wasn't entirely surprised. This wasn't the first time he'd been offered a king's ransom for Hrym—though it
was
the first time an actual king had done the offering. “It's a very kind offer, and I appreciate your concern for my financial security, but as I've said before, I cannot speak for Hrym. I carry him, but he is not my property.”

“What do you want to do with me?” Hrym didn't bother to hide the suspicion in his voice. Many had sought to hold him in order to pursue personal wars or fulfill dreams of conquest, but those were not Hrym's aspirations.

“I have a dear friend, a distant cousin, who is a rajah in our homeland,” the thakur said. “We visited one another often as children, and have remained in contact ever since, writing long letters. This rajah is a collector of rare and wondrous objects—far more than I am myself—and I occasionally send him such interesting relics of the Inner Sea as pass through my hands, since his collection is mostly items from the Impossible Kingdoms and Tian Xia. He considers treasures from your lands particularly fascinating. He keeps me supplied with the finest literature from across our homeland, sometimes even commissioning works from noted poets written for my eyes alone, and I confess that we sometimes try to impress one another with the quality of our gifts. I have developed something of a reputation, I am told, among those in the Inner Sea who deal with ancient artifacts from lost times, and a certain class of trader knows to send me letters offering me items of special interest, as I pay well for them. Word reached me of a wonderful sword.” He inclined his head. “A sword of magical ice, that speaks. A sword that perhaps dates back to the time of the Shory Empire.”

“My memory doesn't go back that far,” Hrym murmured. “At least, not reliably. But I don't doubt it's true.”

“My cousin is visiting this island, due with his ships and his retinue in a fortnight, and it will the first time I have seen him in more decades than I care to count. To offer him the companionship of someone as astounding as yourself, Hrym…” The thakur's lips quirked in a smile. “He would have a difficult time offering me a gift more impressive than
that
, and the thought of his delight upon seeing you would delight
me
. I worried that a sentient sword might resist such an offer, fearing that you hungered for blood and conquest, but I have heard from my sources that you resemble a dragon not just in your powers, but also in your predilections…?”

“He means you like to lay around on piles of gold, Hrym,” Rodrick said.

“I do like that,” Hrym said. “Who wouldn't? If I took up with this rajah, I wouldn't be dragged off to kill anyone, shoved in a sheath, taken all over the countryside on campaigns?”

“You would rest upon a stand of gold, upon a
mound
of gold, if that is your preference, in a place of honor. Indeed, once my cousin hears your voice and discovers you have such a wit—and that you speak our language!—I suspect he will be happy to converse with you on matters of wealth and history. It will be a life of comfort, Hrym, if you agree to my offer.”

“That … is very generous, Majesty,” Hrym said. “And most tempting, I must say. May I have some time to discuss it with my partner, and consider?”

“Of course. I know it is a momentous choice to make. Could you decide in, oh … two days? Only because I will need to make arrangements for a different gift if you are not amenable.”

“That should certainly be sufficient, Majesty.”

The thakur nodded. He brushed a bit of snow from his desk and smiled. “Nagesh, bring them back to me in two days' time, and I will hear their answer. Until then, extend them every courtesy.” He cocked his head. “Tomorrow is the Festival of Ten Thousand Flowers, a day of holiness and celebration for our goddess Arundhat, bringer of blossoms and sweet scents. You should go into the High-Holy District and elsewhere to experience the event. I often wish I could move among the people freely, to celebrate with them.”

“We look forward to it, Thakur.” Rodrick bowed again.

“I will see you back to your rooms.” Nagesh guided them away, down a slushy path. “Do you need anything tonight? A woman? Two women? Or do you prefer boys?”

“A most gracious offer, but I think sleep will suffice for pleasure tonight.” As he grew older, Rodrick more and more lost his taste for sleeping with women who were bought and paid for—where was the sense of accomplishment in
that
?

Nagesh guided them back toward a familiar hallway and then bid them goodnight. Rodrick went to his room, made sure the door was shut securely, and propped Hrym on his golden stand, which some helpful servant had brought into the room after dinner. He sat on the floor beside his friend and said, “So,” in a neutral tone.

“So,” Hrym said, in a near-identical tone.

“Quite an offer. Life of luxury.”

“Like you've been promising me all this time,” Hrym said.

“And have intermittently provided.”

“‘Intermittently' is the right word,” Hrym agreed. “This offer. It's not a bad deal for you, either. You could set yourself up as a country lord. Or just try to burn through the coin in your usual hedonistic excess—sounds like you'd die of old age before you ran out, though.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rodrick said. “So. Do you want to go? Live with this rajah?”

A long pause. “Do you
want
me to go?”

Rodrick sighed. “I know it doesn't come naturally to us, but
one
of us has to speak honestly and risk being mocked. I suppose I'll do it. No, Hrym. I don't want you to go. I know we don't always wallow in luxury, but we … we work well together. I spent months upon months chipping you out of a prison of ice. I hope you know what you mean to me. That said, I know you love gold, and if you'd like to be a pretty ornament in a rajah's palace in Vudra, I won't blame you.”

“That rajah would think he owned me, Rodrick. The thakur says he understands I'm my own person, but in the same voice, he speaks of me as a
gift
. Like I'm an object.”

“I'm sure he'd speak of giving a flesh-and-blood person as a gift, too. They have slaves here, or the next worst thing.” Like most Andorens, Rodrick found the idea of slavery offensive, and it was even worse, here, since they made some of their lowliest servants into eunuchs. Those eunuchs probably blamed themselves for being born into the wrong
caste
.

“It
is
a lot of gold, though,” Hrym said. “If we said no, we'd both be giving that up. I suspect the thakur would be nice enough if we refused, but we'd be on a ship back to Absalom or some other port not much richer than we were when we left. Are we fools to refuse?”

“When I think of us, Hrym, I think of a … sort of circle, drawn around us. You and I are inside the circle, and so we're the ones who matter. Everyone else—
everyone—
is outside the circle.”

“What do we do with people outside the circle?” Hrym said.

“Leave them alone, mostly,” Rodrick said. “Sometimes drink with them, sometimes dice with them, sometimes travel with them.” He reached out and touched Hrym's hilt. “But if they've got something we want … we
rob
them.”

“So we're going to rob the thakur, then,” Hrym said. “Come up with a scheme to steal from the ruler of an island nation full of wizards, mystics, fighting monks, and deadly elementals.”

“No one,” Rodrick replied, “can say we're not ambitious.”

10

Festival of Flowers

“A festival of flowers is nice enough,” Rodrick said. “But wouldn't a festival of wine, women, and dice be better?”

“I'm sure the Vudrani have gods for all those things, too,” Hrym said. “They've got thousands of the things. I hear in some places in the country over there, the gods outnumber the people.”

Rodrick strolled through the streets around the High-Holy District, a fat purse jingling in his pocket, sipping another of those creamy-sweet concoctions he'd had the day before. The people of Jalmeray knew how to put on a festival. Invisible creatures overhead kept up a steady light rain of fragrant blossoms, which swirled away back to the heavens before they could accumulate in quantities sufficient to impede progress or commerce. Priests in robes in all the hues of a wildflower meadow danced and chanted and made offerings, and there were heaps of fruit free for the taking in front of many of the temples. Pretty girls with flowers in their hair danced by, along with laughing men with blossoms woven into their beards, and children with floral crowns. There was a great deal of music, though it was too dependent on reed flutes for Rodrick's taste, and he stood for a while watching a parade composed of immense levitating flowers bobbing in midair, the buds opening to reveal men and women dressed in leaves and vines inside, waving to the crowd and tossing out sweets and coins.

“They should be careful they don't attract enormous bees,” Hrym said. Rodrick had the jeweled scabbard on his hip, but Hrym was frozen to the outside of a more functional leather scabbard on Rodrick's back, so he could take in the sights. They were both in good spirits, having come to an agreement about how to proceed, and as far as they could tell, they weren't being spied on by any agents from the palace, though it was possible the watching eyes were just very subtle. They had to find local help, of course, but the festival was a great excuse to wander the streets and poke into various alleys and byways.

In early afternoon, Rodrick ducked into a tea shop that also sold flatbread and some sort of succulent bean paste for a bite, and found just the man he'd been looking for sitting at a table in the corner, peering sullenly into a cup. Rodrick clapped him on the back, startling the man and making him yelp, then dropped into a chair opposite him. “Kaleb, isn't it? We met yesterday. You had a horse.” Rodrick drew Hrym—the conjurer watched the blade with wide eyes—and leaned him against the wall, point-down.

Kaleb swallowed. “I'm sorry about that. Elementals are tricky to control, if you don't get the forms exactly right they'll break free—”

“Think nothing of it. I thought the flaming horse was an impressive piece of work, before it tried to run me down, anyway. You didn't
deliberately
try to kill me.” Rodrick leaned on the table, making sure his biceps bulged, and put on his toothiest, most menacing smile. “Then again, you did endanger my life by accident. I don't suppose you want to make it up to me?”

The man—who was quite thin under those robes—tried to straighten up. “I can conjure fire. Do you really want to threaten me?”

“Hrym?” Rodrick said.

Kaleb yelped and released the cup before him as it was covered in a thin sheet of ice, the liquid inside freezing solid. After a moment, the cup itself cracked, loud in the silence.

“I have a magical sword of living ice,” Rodrick said. “I don't worry about fire. At best, your magic and Hrym's could fight each other to a standstill, which would leave me free to beat you over the head with a chair. Who do you think would get the better end of
that
interaction?”

Kaleb wasn't cowed yet. “Try causing that kind of trouble here, or anywhere in Niswan, and the thakur's men will clap you in irons—”

“Do you think
that's
likely, Hrym?” Rodrick said.

“Can't say I do,” the sword replied.

Kaleb flinched at Hrym's voice. “It
talks
?”

“He not only talks, he has things to say I actually care to hear. A remarkable property, and an increasingly rare one. We are in Niswan as invited guests of the thakur—didn't you notice we were being shown around the city by one of his chief advisors?”

“I … Yes. I recognized him from the palace.” Another little flare of defiance—maybe the fellow
did
have some fire elemental ancestry. “You see? I've been to the palace too.”

“I heard. As a performer. Did they let you eat in the kitchens? I quite enjoyed the dancers and acrobats at the feast held in my honor last night, but I suppose a fire-eater would have been amusing, too.” The bit about “in my honor” was stretching it a bit, but it seldom hurt to seem more impressive than you were. “Anyway, if it came to blows, I suspect my word would carry more weight than a penniless conjurer's. Or do the pockets of your robe bulge with free festival fruits because they're your favorite food, and not because that's all you can afford to eat?”

Kaleb hunched down in his seat. “What do you want?”

That was probably enough stick. On to the honey. “I want to give you money.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a glittering ruby the size of his thumbnail and put it on the table. He'd pried the jewel off the scabbard that morning, and had already bought a glass gem to replace it so it wouldn't be apparent that he was chopping up the thakur's generosity for parts. “That would buy you rather a lot more tutoring in the mystical arts, wouldn't it?”

“I assume it's not a gift?”

“You could call it a gift. Assuming you were inspired to give me a gift in return. Are you truly an illusionist as well as a pyromancer?” Nagesh had said so, but Rodrick needed to be sure.

Kaleb nodded. “I was trained as an illusionist in Absalom. It's not my true passion, but I'm quite capable.”