Liar's Island: A Novel (17 page)

“You certainly could have
asked
,” Rodrick said pleasantly. “How about Hrym? Is his disguise likewise perfect and permanent?”

Kaleb shrugged. “I doubt I could suppress his cold if I wanted to, but I also doubt anyone will grab your sword's blade and notice. It—he'll—look like an ordinary longsword until you choose to change him back.” The conjurer passed over a small vial of bluish sand. “Pour this on his blade, and it will remove the illusion.”

Rodrick prodded the fake ice sword. “Does it talk?”

“Try it,” Kaleb said.

“Ah … hello, Hrym.” Rodrick felt like an idiot talking to an ordinary longsword, even if it did look like his friend.

“What? Can't you tell I'm trying to rest? Leave me be.” The new sword perfectly matched Hrym's gruff and curmudgeonly tone.

“I don't sound anything like that,” the real Hrym complained.

“It has a couple of other phrases,” Kaleb said. “But along similar lines, things to discourage further attempts at conversation. Now, about the rest of my payment.” The fire in the hearth grew brighter … and then stepped out of the fireplace, taking on the form of a small wolf.

“There's no need for that.” Rodrick reached into a pocket and drew out a diamond, even larger than the ruby had been, and tossed it to Kaleb, who caught it deftly. “Don't suppose that longsword came with a scabbard?”

The conjurer held the diamond up to the light, peering at it, then nodded to himself. The wolf climbed back into the hearth, curled up, and became just a fire again. “Hmm? Oh. Yes. I don't have any use for it.” He gestured to a scabbard and sword belt of sturdy leather dangling from the back of a chair.

Rodrick strapped the plain scabbard onto his back and sheathed Hrym there. “All right, old friend. You're living a secret life now. Keep conversation to a minimum.” He took the fake Hrym and slid it into the jeweled scabbard on his hip. It would be good not to get the two weapons confused.

“Stop moving me around so much,” the fake sword complained. “Where's my bed of gold?”

“He's captured you to perfection, Hrym.”

“Your mother was a butter knife,” Hrym said.

Kaleb snorted.

“Sentient sword insults,” Rodrick said. “There's really nothing else like them.” He started for the door, then paused. “Remember, this transaction never occurred. If anyone asks why we spoke, we were just reminiscing together about Absalom and complaining about Vudrani food, and you were kind enough to help me find a new sword. Right?”

“For what you paid, if you wanted me to say we were lovers, I wouldn't refuse.”

“I don't think that will be necessary, but the enthusiasm is appreciated.” He went downstairs, out onto the street, and the eunuch was there, pretending to carefully study a tile mosaic beside a fountain. Rodrick walked directly up to him and said, “Hello there, haven't I seen you in the palace?”

The man seemed torn between running away and lying, and so just stood there, saying nothing.

Rodrick patted the weapon at his hip. “I'm giving up my old sword soon, so I made arrangements to buy a new one. I just don't feel complete without a blade on my hip. Will you be following me to my next stop? I've got a powerful thirst, and I've only found one place in Niswan that serves the kind of ale I like.”

“I—ah—regret that my duties—ah—”

“Of course.” Rodrick patted him on the shoulder. “Pleasure running into you. I'm sure I'll see you later.” The eunuch hurried away, but Rodrick doubted he'd go far. He was more concerned about spies he
couldn't
see.

*   *   *

Next he went to the nameless subterranean bar. Rodrick doubted they were being watched there. A place like that could hardly function if it didn't have measures in place to prevent invisible spies from crowding in.

His friend with the oiled beard was waiting at the darkest corner table with a middle-aged Vudrani woman who showed not very many teeth when she smiled. “I'm captain you-don't-need-my-name, of the good ship none-of-your-business,” she said. “I understand you might want to book a trip off this island.”

He slipped their mutual friend a few coins and thanked him. “Before you go, remember the value of discretion,” he said.

“He won't tell anyone about our business,” the captain said. “He knows my work thrives in secret.” The man nodded, gave them both wide smiles, and slipped away.

“Then let's discuss that business,” Rodrick said.

“I won't transport people who are unwilling, and that includes unconscious or stuffed in a trunk,” she said. “Mostly I deal in bringing imports from the Inner Sea region, a bit cheaper than average because I have an arrangement with the authorities who handle the import tax. I do send ships that way, though, and occasionally they carry freight in that direction as well. You can be that freight, but not if you bring trouble down on me.”

“I don't expect any trouble,” he said. “I'd just rather travel without anyone knowing what ship I'm on, and with someone who won't remember me after the voyage, if anyone comes around asking.”

“So you mean to cause trouble, but to be clear of it before anyone notices. Well, I don't object, as long as none of your trouble splashes on me. When do you want to leave?”

Rodrick figured he'd be handing over the sword tonight, and would then be closely watched by Nagesh's people—he was the hostage guaranteeing Hrym's cooperation, after all—so he'd have to escape that surveillance, get out of the palace, make his way to the docks …

They agreed on a time in the deep dark middle of the night, and decided the smuggler would wait for him until just before dawn—Rodrick figured if he hadn't made it by then, he wouldn't make it at all.

“I'll need a deposit now,” she said, “and the balance to be paid the moment you appear before me on the docks. No getting halfway out to sea and having you say, ‘Oh no, I've misplaced my purse,' understand? You don't set foot on my deck until the coins are in my hand.”

“I'm offended by your insinuations,” Rodrick said. “Don't I have a trustworthy face?”

“Be as offended as you like, as long as you pay.”

Once those arrangements were concluded, Rodrick got back on the street. The eunuch was there again, this time half-hiding behind a small tree. Rodrick waved merrily, and the man ducked down farther.

Rodrick glanced upward, looking for a disturbance in the air to indicate a genie's presence, but he saw nothing. Which didn't mean there
was
nothing. Djinni could become invisible. They could be anywhere. The idea of being watched constantly was unpleasant, but it just meant he needed good cover stories, and he came up with
those
as a matter of course.

“Last errand of the day,” Rodrick said, walking along with Hrym swinging on his hip. He darted through a few doorways, down a few alleys, up a few streets, and soon contented himself that he'd left the trailing eunuch hopelessly confused and far behind. Ditching him might be pointless, but doing so was a matter of pride. He hurried to the small courtyard where he'd confronted Grimschaw yesterday, and sat on a bench, humming to himself and running mental scenarios, considering possible complications and the consequences and his own potential reactions. He thought they'd get away with everything, barring unforeseen catastrophe—maybe not as rich as he'd wished, but alive, and better off than they'd been when they arrived in Jalmeray.

Grimschaw appeared, sidling up in her skulking manner, which was far more suspicious than just walking up to them directly. She sat on the bench beside him, without looking at him at all, and said, “Do you have it?”

Rodrick reached into the leather bag on his shoulder and drew out the black scroll case, the wax carefully melted to make it look as if it had never been unsealed. “Is this the one?”

Grimschaw stared at the case like a lecherous man at a serving girl's bosom. “Yes. Give it here.”

He slid it back into the bag. “Gold first, please.”

She reached into a pocket and drew out a leather purse, passing it to him. He opened it up, peered at the glint inside, shook it around a bit to make sure it wasn't rocks or lumps of lead under a layer of coins, then weighed the bag in his hand. It seemed right for what they'd agreed on. He handed her the scroll case and rose. “Nice doing business with you.”

“Yes. Most satisfactory.” She stared at the case as if she wanted to crack it open then and there. Rodrick did not wish to be in her presence when she did so.

“You might want to put that away,” Rodrick said. “Speaking as a thief, if I saw
anyone
staring at something as intently as you're staring at that, I'd assume it was something worth taking, and try my luck.”

She nodded quickly and tucked the scroll away. Without another word, she rose and scurried off toward the steps.

It was always possible she'd duck into the first alley and crack open the case and discover the contents were less than she'd hoped, so Rodrick hurried in the other direction, back toward the palace.

In the High-Holy District he saw the eunuch walking ahead, disconsolate, head down, and patted the man on the shoulder again, making him jump. “It's all right, I was just meeting a woman, and didn't want you lurking around. I'd hoped she might be good for a bit of—well, the sort of fun I gather you're not equipped for anymore. Barbaric practice, I've always thought, no matter how lovely it makes your singing voice. I hope you can forgive me? I know you were just doing your job. Listen, if you don't mention to anyone that I gave you the slip, I won't mention to anyone that I noticed you following me. All right?”

“Yes,” the man said, voice nearly a squeak. “Yes, that might be best.”

They parted ways at the outer garden, the servant rushing off to make his report, no doubt. Rodrick made a point of strolling through the garden, pausing to chat with various beautiful youths, complimenting them on the majesty of their country and the wisdom of their leaders and offering other such empty fripperies. He walked through the hallways of the palace, whistling to himself, and returned to his rooms.

Nagesh was there, standing in a corner, arms folded, glaring as they came through the door. “Have you been there long?” Rodrick said. “I hope you at least brought something to read. Waiting menacingly in a corner can be very tiring.”

The advisor stalked forward. “I've come to remind you of your duties, and of the consequences of refusing—”

“Yes, yes, fine. This posturing really isn't necessary. I'm prepared to hand Hrym over, and he'll do as you've asked. But if we're going to commit this assassination for you, we're going to need payment in advance, and in rather larger quantity.”

Nagesh sneered. “You expect me to trust you with coin, now?”

Rodrick sighed. “You had me followed all over the city. I wouldn't be surprised if you put me under guard tonight.”

“You remember my fire elemental?” Nagesh chuckled. “It will indeed watch over you while you sleep. Or while you lie awake in terror.”

“Just so. Do you think I'll be
more
likely to escape if I'm carrying a chest full of gold? In my experience, that kind of weight limits opportunities for stealthy departures. We don't need to be adversarial, Nagesh. Surely you have some sense of the kind of people Hrym and I are. We're not defenders of light and righteousness—we're pragmatic opportunists out for personal gain. What I mean is, we're
professionals
. Treat us as such, and let us get on with the job.”

Nagesh smiled, grin like a sickle blade. “No. You get nothing from me until the work is done. Do not think you can make demands of me.” Nagesh spat at Rodrick's feet. “You're just tools. Don't forget that.”

Oh well. It was worth a try.

“I will come to collect you soon,” Nagesh said. “I can tell you're trying to plot escape—don't bother. It's impossible.” He stalked off.

Rodrick considered taking a nap, but he was too keyed up. He wanted to go over the plan again, but Hrym told him he was being an idiot. It wasn't complicated, after all, and it was a trick they'd played countless times before. There were confidence men who specialized in the goldbrick scam, selling golden bars that were really lumps of lead with a thin layer of gilt, and this was a simple variation on that venerable ruse. What could go wrong? Escaping Nagesh's elemental guard later tonight would be the only real problem, and Hrym could trap the creature in a shell of magical ice with ease, since it wouldn't expect Rodrick's battered old longsword to have such powers.

Rodrick settled for standing on the balcony, looking at the gardens, thinking about escape routes. The key would be to neutralize the fire elemental, then stroll out of the palace as if he had every right to do so, as he'd done for the past days. From there, a brisk walk to the docks, and
away
.

A servant brought him an evening meal, and Rodrick ate just enough to keep his strength up. After eating, Rodrick strapped on the jeweled scabbard—which glittered just as impressively as before, though a few more of its jewels had been removed and replaced with glass by a jeweler who seemed to understand the need to raise funds while keeping up appearances—and sheathed his “new” sword, actually Hrym in disguise, in it. The fake Hrym went into the plain scabbard on his back. He sat and waited, running contingencies through his mind, until Nagesh opened the door. “Come,” he said.

Rodrick joined him in the hallway, where Nagesh put a hand on his chest. “Wait. May I take a look at Hrym?”

With a shrug, Rodrick drew the false sword from its place on his back.

Nagesh drew a slim ivory wand from his robe and touched it to the sword, which shimmered, and returned to its original form, revealing itself as an ordinary longsword.