The Thief's Gamble (Einarinn 1) (18 page)

The lad ran off up the drive, slipping on the gravel in his haste.

'Is it the custom here to remain seated while ladies stand?' Casuel raised his eyebrows at two guards lounging on a bench.

'Get up!'

The two scowled at their leader but obeyed. Allin bobbed a curtsey and sat down, tucking in her skirts nervously. Casuel broadened his smile somewhat and took a note-tablet from his pocket, making a few jottings which he was pleased to see substantially increased the air of awe around him.

'He'm to come.' The lad soon reappeared breathless and sweaty despite the cool day.

'Thank you.' Casuel took his time, acknowledging the militiaman on the gate with a gracious nod of the head and a silver penny.

'You see, Allin, you have to know how to deal with these people,' he murmured.

He stifled a smile at the
buzz
of speculation behind them as the gate closed but his satisfaction soon evaporated as they walked towards the manor. Curbing underlings with their petty abuses of power was one thing; the man who lived here was going to be a horse of quite a different mettle.

'Why does this look like a Lescar noble's house?' Allin enquired tensely.

The ground-level windows had been recently reduced to narrow embrasures and they could see men working on the roof to add crenellations and a watch tower. A line of pinkly dusted peasants were stacking bricks to one side of the main gateway and logs lay ready for scaffolding. The ringing of hammer and chisel rose from somewhere over the back.

'Oh, these petty lordlings like to impress their neighbours with their fortifications,' Casuel said airily.

'This way.' They followed the nervous lad around a dry ditch where a gang of burly men in grey were fixing sharpened stakes. A side door stood open and a flat-faced man in dark blue was waiting expectantly with a maid who dipped a curtsey and took their cloaks.

'Good day.' Casuel was pleased to receive a practised bow in reply to his own and followed the man, his spirits rising as they were led through a panelled and polished hallway, steps ringing on the spotless flagstones. Allin looked around uncertainly, clutching her shawl.

'This way, please.' The lackey opened a door and ushered Casuel through with immaculate courtesy.

He paused for a moment to admire the fashionable room then turned to address his companion.

'May I ask—' His words tailed; the menial had closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

'I don't think we're very welcome,' Allin whispered nervously.

A faint chill breathed across the back of Casuel's neck; he ignored it.

'Ah, refreshments!' He headed for a sideboard, gratefully pouring himself a full goblet to settle a little commotion in his stomach. 'Here you are, that'll put some colour in your cheeks, my dear. I expect you're suffering from a touch of carriage-sickness.'

He raised appreciative eyebrows as he sipped the wine. 'Now, I would not have expected to find Trokain vintages this far west, Allin. Lord Armile is certainly a man of excellent taste.'

He turned slowly, taking in the room, its elegance carefully understated to form a backdrop to the full-length portrait over the fireplace. The standing figure in formal dress was half turned, one arm resting on a pedestal where a small statue paid lip-service to the family's hereditary priesthood.

'Is that him?' Allin breathed in awe.

'I imagine so. That's the latest Tormalin style, you know, quite the height of fashion.'

The face was hardly flattering to Casuel's eyes. The piercing gaze and harsh set to the full mouth presented an uncomfortable challenge but the vital realism of the painting made it stand out from the other, smaller, portraits around the panelled walls, their older, flatter style awkward and clownish by comparison.

'I had to pay the fellow a sack-weight of coin to come so far from home, but I think it was worth it, don't you?'

Casuel started and turned to see the picture's original emerge from a door concealed in an alcove.

'Who—' He coughed and cleared his throat. 'Who is the artist?'

'Some fellow Messire Den Ilmiral recommended.' Lord Armile's Tormalin was polished and marred only by a slight lisp betraying an early tutor's Lescari accent. He looked Allin up and down before bowing to her with a faintly puzzled air.

'It is an impressive work.' Casuel sipped his wine, realising that the artist had indeed worked to flatter his client in softening the harsh lines around mouth and eyes and reducing the sneering nose.

'Such an accolade from a man of education is praise indeed.' Lord Armile smiled with broad good humour and unfolded Casuel's letter.

'Now, you say you have business which will be to my advantage?'

Casuel smiled in return. For all his manners and decor aping Tormalin fashions, this was still an Ensaimin hedge-lord he was dealing with, no subtlety or decorum to him.

'Indeed.' He took a seat. 'I deal in books, writings, antiquarian documents. I have heard that you have a fine library.'

'From whom?'

Casuel hesitated for a breath. 'Does that matter?'

'I always like to know who's talking about me.'

Casuel failed to notice Lord Armile's smile did not reach his eyes.

'I did not catch the fellow's name, we were simply conversing in a hostelry.' Casuel took a sip of wine. 'The thing is, I have clients interested in purchasing various texts and I wondered if you might have some of those I'm seeking.'

'Who are your clients?'

'Scholars and antiquarians, the details are not important.' Casuel stumbled a little over his attempt at unconcern.

'Details are always important.' Lord Armile remained standing. 'I have no wish to sell any of my library. Be on your way.'

He turned back to the concealed door.

Casuel gaped for a moment then scrambled to his feet. 'Sir, I do not think you realise… that is, I can offer you significant coin.'

'I have sufficient sources of income.'

'You could earn the gratitude of powerful men,' Casuel said desperately.

Lord Armile turned to look over his shoulder. 'I am a powerful man,' he said softly. 'And you are not the first spy who has tried to gain an entry into my house and my business.'

'I am no spy.' Casuel's voice rose in indignation.

'Then who are you?' Lord Armile pulled twice on a bell-rope and Casuel heard booted feet scrape outside the door.

'I am a travelling dealer in texts and documents, I told you.' The flare of indignation burned away, leaving Casuel suddenly-cold, the wine souring in his stomach.

'Are you indeed? Have you visited any of my neighbours? They have fine libraries, after all. No, you have not, I would have been informed of it. You have come straight to me, fresh off the coach from Market Harrall, not even a bag between you! Tell me, how is Lord Sovel?'

'I have not the honour of that gentleman's acquaintance,' Casuel said stiffly.

'No, I don't suppose you have. That scut of a son of his does his dirty work these days.' Armile clapped his hands and two thickset men in the ubiquitous grey livery slammed open the door. Allin squeaked in alarm and gripped Casuel's sleeve.

'You are making a grave error.' Anger thickened Casuel's tone. 'I am no spy, I am a mage.'

Armile raised a hand and the men halted. 'Are you indeed? Prove it.'

Casuel blinked and pried Allin's fingers from his arm. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Prove it!' The threat in Armile's voice was unmistakable and Casuel's meagre courage fled.

Feeling his hands shaking, he rubbed them together before weaving the amber lights of his power into a close net. Emboldened by the murmurs of awe he heard behind him, he drew deep on his resources and flung the power out into the form of a gigantic hound, eyes blazing, jaws dripping foam which sizzled as it hit the floor. Allin clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a squeal.

Lord Armile stared unmoved at the phantasm. 'A pretty festival trick, I suppose.'

Casuel narrowed his lips, the beast bayed deafeningly and he was gratified to see that Armile's hands moved involuntarily towards his ears. Allin was now as white as the flagstones.

Perceiving a threat to their master, the men moved towards Casuel but he turned the hound towards them, setting it snarling, looking from one to the other. They exchanged dubious glances, each unwilling to find out how real those finger-length teeth might be.

Laughter startled Casuel, but he held the weave together.

'I am impressed. I must apologise, but these are troubled times hereabouts.' Lord Armile moved to the sideboard, keeping a wary eye on the hound as he filled a goblet and handed it to Allin, who sank it in one draught.

'Please, let us start afresh.' Armile gestured to the men, who retreated all too willingly.

Casuel froze the hound for an instant then let it unravel into a gout of flame which rushed towards the ceiling, then through it. Lord Armile forced a smile once he saw his expensive plasterwork was unmarked.

'Will you do me the honour of staying to dine?'

'Thank you, I would be delighted.' Casuel smoothed the front of his coat; this was more like the reception he was entitled to, even if he had been forced to obtain it through such a vulgar display.

'Let us go through to the library. We can see what books might interest you. My lady.' He offered Allin a courteous arm with a winning smile.

Casuel nodded, straightened his shoulders and followed as Lord Armile led the way.

The library was a long room along the side of the house, the deep windows separated by bookcases and facing a wall lined with even more volumes.

'This is most impressive.' Casuel did not scruple to disguise his awe. 'I have rarely seen a private library of this quality outside Tormalin.'

'Thank you; my father was something of a scholar.' There was an edge to Lord Armile's voice which escaped Casuel. 'Please look around, I must let the kitchen know we will be two more for dinner.'

Lord Armile left through another panelled door and Allin looked after him, puzzled. 'You'd think he'd have someone to run his messages for him.'

'Do be quiet, there's a good girl.' Casuel was eagerly searching the shelves and scroll racks, checking against the list engraved on his memory.

'Oh yes, this is an excellent copy
of Mennith's History
. Look, here's the
Selerima Pharmacopoeia, Tandri's Yesteryears
. This is all very encouraging.'

He soon identified a handful of other texts in varying states of repair and annotation and sat at a handy desk to make some rapid calculations. Allin came to look over his shoulder and gasped.

'Oh, I knew this would not be a cheap transaction but I have inferior copies which I can sell on,' Casuel reassured her airily. 'Besides, I'm not exactly short of coin. Now, please let me work without interruption.'

Allin plumped down on a sofa, twisting her fingers in the fringe of her wrap.

It was some while later when Casuel looked up with a start as the blue-liveried lackey opened the door.

'Dinner is served. Please follow me.'

Casuel glanced at the window and was surprised to see dusk deepening above the trees.

'Yes, thank you. Come on, Allin.' He tucked his notes into a pocket and followed the servant.

He was surprised to find dinner served in a smaller salon with older, heavier furniture. Evidently Lord Armile's taste for the up-to-date had not reached this part of the house. Casuel stifled a smile; the profits from the sale of the books could be usefully spent here.

'Did you find much of interest?' Lord Armile gestured to the footman, who began to uncover the various dishes.

Casuel helped himself to a pigeon and some bread. 'Thank you, yes. I think I should be able to fulfil several of my commissions.'

'Who did you say you were acting for?' Armile nodded to a second lackey, who began to carve from a thick joint of beef. Casuel was pleased to see Allin relax as she filled her plate.

'I am assisting some of the Council of Mages in their research,' Casuel replied easily. He had established his position sufficiently to adopt a more friendly approach, he decided. 'Wizardry is a co-operative discipline.'

'These mages have antiquarian interests, you mentioned?'

'Among others,' Casuel said with as lofty a tone as he could manage with a mouthful of pigeon leg.

'Do try some of the game pie.' Lord Armile raised a ringer to the footman, who quickly filled their goblets. 'Do you return to Hadrumal soon?'

'That depends.' Casuel reached for a dish of cutlets. 'I have various tasks to complete first.'

'But you are a free agent, you have discretion over your duties?'

'Oh, quite.' Casuel nodded. 'I am entirely my own master.'

Lord Armile smiled broadly, though this deepened the harsh lines around his mouth and made him look almost sinister. Casuel's admiration for the portrait artist increased still further.

'So, what did you find of interest in my library?' Lord Armile leaned back in his chair and sipped at his wine.

Casuel swallowed hastily and wiped his mouth with his napkin. 'There are certainly some interesting texts there, although I'm not sure how many my funds will allow me to purchase.'

Lord Armile raised a hand. 'My dear sir, I would not dream of taking your coin, not if the Council of Mages needs these books for their research.'

Casuel gaped. 'Well, that is, I mean, obviously I appreciate your generosity but—'

'You can repay me in kind, with a small service.' Armile inclined his head, unsmiling.

'What kind of service would that be?' Casuel asked uneasily. He looked across the room at the burly footman who stood by the door, arms folded across his broad chest.

'You do not know my neighbour. Lord Sovel, I believe?' Lord Armile snapped his fingers and the second lackey poured small glasses of white brandy. He was also unusually well built for a house servant, Casuel noticed belatedly.

'Well, you see, he has a gravel pit, and I wish to buy it. I have made him a fair offer for the land but he refuses to deal with me.' Armile shrugged. 'You can persuade him.'