Lhind the Thief (7 page)

o0o

Next morning, I discovered the yacht swarming with
activity. At first I saw none of the toffs, just their servants. Then I spotted
Hlanan moving quietly among the soberly dressed men and women laboring to bring
up big trunks and bulky receptacles of various sorts. He spotted me at the same
time, and his thoughtful expression lightened to a smile.

“Lhind,” he said. “Just the person I need. Would you take
this box down to Thianra?” He gestured toward the other hatchway, dropping a
small wooden cask into my hands at the same time.

I looked down at it, surprised that my hands had taken it.
When I looked up again, he was deep in conversation with several toffs, all
looking off at the coast.

The cask was heavy, and it smelled like one of those good
woods—rose, cedar,
taurein
. Twining
figures of animals and flowers carved at either end. Heavy. It made a chinking
sound as I moved it in my hands, and I wondered if it was loaded with coins.
Maybe those gold crowns he’d offered me so easily?

He gave it to
me?
I
stared down at it as I worked through a succession of reactions: amazement at
his lack of forethought in handing coins to a thief; scorn for his neglecting
to think I wouldn’t lighten the load first; last, a twinge of discomfort when I
recollected his words about how even a thief has a sense of dignity.

Then I remembered my easy promise before they first untied
me. I could break that promise, but I found that I was reluctant to.

Here I was, divided between two instincts: the first, to
take what I could while I could, the second to . . . not.

I didn’t like this dilemma. It was unsettling, like I’d been
bound by some invisible rope. But then practicality reasserted itself: they’d
have only to check the cask and they’d know I’d messed with the contents long before
we came into port. Of course they would count! At least once. I certainly
would.

And so, as I had no desire to see how Rajanas carried out
his threats, I continued down into the middle deck, where I found Thianra
bustling about a tiny cabin strewn with clothing before two heavy chests, and a
helpless-looking lady wringing her hands as she glanced about in despair.

Giving me a quick, preoccupied smile, Thianra bent to cram an
armload of lace and silk into one of the boxes. “Lhind,” she cried
breathlessly. “Would you kindly sit upon the baroness’s trunk so I can do the
latch?”

“Hlanan sent me with this.” I held out the cask.

“Just set it on the bunk there.” She waved a hand, standing
expectantly next to the trunk.

I climbed on it and crouched down. She shook her head and I
hopped off. After much shoving and grunting and finding corners of flounces and
frills hanging out the side, we finally got the latch to thunk into place. She
straightened up, wiped a strand of hair from her brow, and began moving purposefully
toward another chest. I slunk out.

Retreating to the masthead, where no one could see me and
load me with their chores, I bestowed a moment’s brief pity on those people
with all their chests and boxes and dunnage to be dragged about. The only way
that made sense was to have one set of clothes, and when they either wore
through or itched one beyond bearing, one snaffled some new.

A strong breeze blew the yacht right down the center of the
harbor. The yawing bow rolled and pitched in the deep blue of the sea like a
horse galloping for home, sending sprays of saltwater high into the air. The
river sparkled a lighter blue under the brilliant sky, marking where brine
ended and fresh water began.

Even from our distance, Letarj appeared different from
Stormborn Harbor back in Thesreve. It was built along the mouth of a wide
river. The shoreline angled inward until we sailed into the river itself. On
hills rising to each side the whitewashed and golden-brick buildings of the
harbor city gleamed. A very rich city, this. But the thief gangs were tough and
numerous and did not look kindly on independents, Thesreve rumor had it.

I sighed as we sailed past all that wasted wealth. And what
a variety! I saw everything from beautifully decorated, fast yachts like the
one we were on, to big old weather-beaten round-hulled trade three-masters.
Twice we were passed by exotic and sinister-looking red-sailed Shinjan galleys
moving out to sea. The slaves in the galleys dipped and raised the long oars in
a matched rhythm one would have thought impossible to achieve, and the red
sails looked like stains of fresh blood against the sky. I remembered some of
the stories I’d heard about Shinja, and shivered in the strengthening breeze.

Farther and farther in we sailed, past anchored ships of all
kinds, from all over the world. There was a long line of piers, next to which
lay big traders or very fancy ships obviously belonging to royalty. Along the
wharves lay goods from all over the world: gigantic wine barrels from the
inland hills, crates of blood oranges from the islands, their aroma sweet above
the brine; bales of wool from the high mountains, cloth, wood, even baskets of
almonds, islanders in fringed vests bargaining loudly with dock merchants with
their counting beads.

As we sailed slowly along, little rowboats fast splashing
out of our way, it became apparent from the various flags that went up and down
the foremast rope on the yacht, and at the harbormaster’s on the hill, that we
were to get a pier to ourselves.

Then I heard noise below. A shrill, sarcastic voice:
“. . . if you
think
you can
manage
this
without further damage—”

Princess Kressanthe stalked the length of the deck, yelling
the while at a string of heavily burdened servants. She was gowned in some kind
of shiny silk and so many diamonds hung round her neck, on her wrists, and in
her hair, that it hurt the eyes when the jewels caught the strong sunlight and
flung it back in shards of liquid light.

She halted in the middle of the deck, and tossed her hair
back with an angry gesture, then ran her fingers through the curls flagging in
the strong breeze. My scalp itched anew as I watched.

Nobody seemed to be paying attention to her. The princess
scanned the deck, her eyes narrowing when she spotted Rajanas and the captain
standing aft behind the wheel, talking.

Kressanthe turned her head sharply and shrieked at someone
right behind her, “MUST you be so SLOW?”

The men remained at the taffrail, gazing at the shoreline.

The maidservant she snarled at ducked her head and ran back
for another load, stumbling among the sailors heaving on sails as the yacht drifted up to the pier.

Thianra appeared, her face anxious and her hair loose. It
flew about her in the wind as she rushed straight to Kressanthe and began
talking very earnestly.

The ship shuddered and wallowed; the yards braced round,
tight as the sailors could get them. The crowd of servants milling about
staggered after one violent surge. One skinny maidservant burdened with a bulky
receptacle of some kind lost her balance and lurched against the princess, who
turned and slapped her ringingly across the face. The servant girl fell back,
dropping her burden, which smashed on the deck and spilled its contents:
jewels, rings, brooches, and necklaces.

We’re now in port
, I
thought as I slid down a backstay.
Here’s my
chance
.

Snaking into the group of reaching, grabbing, exclaiming
servitors, I went to work: a foot behind another foot here, a shove there, and
a yank on a skirt—and the off-balance group fell down in a satisfying tangle of
thrashing cloth and flailing limbs.

This kind of thing is an art, and I’d gotten mighty good at
it.

Kressanthe was on the bottom. She lay there without moving,
shrieking for her maids. I eeled out from the pile, snagging take as I went. A
package got thrust into my nose and someone’s elbow caught me hard in the
stomach, but still I managed to nip three rings and two bracelets. My big prize
was going to be the long string of faceted diamonds, right from Kressanthe’s
perfect neck, but I was distracted by sharp fleering light at the edge of my
vision. I took a look, and gasped when I saw more diamonds, much bigger, better
diamonds, half-spilled from an embroidered cloth bag. The light didn’t just
reflect and refract, it seemed to gather in them, radiating pinpoints of
ferocious sun.

I bent, whisked them up, and retreated to my cabin where I
stashed them hastily in my knickers.

Then, gloating inwardly, I reflected that the best thing was
that Rajanas, in ignoring the princess, could not possibly have spotted me
making the pinch.

The instant my clothes were straight I strolled innocently
out to watch the servants picking up scattered belongings and disentangling
Kressanthe from the mess.

Her rising voice caused Rajanas to cross the deck. He bent
to give the princess a hand up. As he pulled her to her feet, he glanced about,
giving me a narrow-eyed glance. I edged discreetly back, and gazed off at the
shoreline as if nothing was amiss. But I peeked sideways to keep an eye on
things.

The sails were brailed up by now, the ship tied fore and
aft. The crew extended a gangplank to the dock, which dropped with a bang, to
be instantly tied down by dock workers.

Kressanthe snatched her hand away from Rajanas’s arm, and
marched toward the gangplank with her nose high in the air. I didn’t hear her
parting shot toward him, but it must have been a good one, as his brows rose in
mild surprise, and Thianra turned away, her hand covering her face to hide
laughter. My heart warmed toward Kressanthe—too late.

Kressanthe was the first to sweep down to the dock. Hlanan
appeared at Thianra’s side, both of their faces wearing twin expressions of
concern. Rajanas, smiling faintly, moved to talk to them. I would have kept my
distance, but Hlanan looked about, spotted me, and gestured for me to join
them.

I took my time, catching the end of Hlanan’s murmured words;
he was talking in one of those languages I’d heard once or twice on in the
southeastern reaches of the empire. “. . . I wish it hadn’t happened because it
will only sound the worse by the time the story reaches Court.”

Rajanas shrugged. “If you believe for a moment she’ll tell a
story on herself, then by all means worry.”

“It will not be the truth that her father hears, but the
emotions propelling her words will be genuine,” Thianra responded softly.

“You’re right.” Rajanas brought his chin down in a
definitive jerk. “No time for our errands in Letarj. We’ll make straight for
Imbradi.” He turned away, beckoned to one of his stewards, and began giving
orders.

Below us on the dock, Kressanthe had dispatched harbor
runners to fetch vehicles for hire. As I watched, three pair-drawn coaches
rolled up and the harassed maidservants began loading trunks and cases into one
coach. The servants then climbed into the smallest one, and from the
largest—into which Kressanthe had stepped the moment they rolled up—a few coins
spun, glinting, from the doorway to land at the runners’ feet. Then the same
imperious hand that had flung the silvers waved with another imperious gesture
and the coaches rolled from the dockside with a great cracking of whips and
pounding of hooves.

Hlanan said, “We must disembark now.” His brown eyes were
distant, his expression pensive.

Wondering what he was afraid of, I said, “Still want that
book?” I was poised to run, but twelve golders?

“Book?” he repeated, brow furrowing, then he nodded quickly.
“Oh yes, Lhind, I do indeed. I thought you knew that. Tell me, shall you mind a
somewhat hasty journey? Rajanas wishes to travel fast.”

“Well of course I’m used to kingly comfort,” I said
promptly.

A rich laugh behind me told me that Thianra had heard. “You
stay to help Ilyan,” she said to Hlanan, in Chelan. “I shall take Lhind with me
to yon inn, and enjoy a bite and sip on firm ground.”

Hlanan gave her a relieved smile, and I wondered what was
going on that was not being said. Hoping to get a hint from Thianra, I followed
her to the inn she pointed out.

Once again she was dressed in a fitted minstrel-blue jacket
and riding trousers. Her tiranthe hung in its embroidered cover (much finer
than her own clothes), and below that, a simple knapsack.

One glass of tasty brown cider and a big cheese pie stuffed
with wine-braised onions and tomatoes went down to warm the inner Lhind, but
during that time I gained nothing from her aside from a respect for her
story-telling ability. She talked a great deal, mostly about traveling.

Once or twice I sensed she was watching me for signs of
familiarity with the places she mentioned, but she asked no direct questions,
and she answered the ones I asked her with friendly ease and humor. I also saw
those browny-gray eyes flick toward the door each time someone came or went,
and I noticed her hands, when resting, in reach of where I guessed her weapons
to be hidden, but her smiling face never changed.

The inn we visited was as colorful and varied as her
stories: not just for gentry, though several fine-dressed people passed us by,
nor just for harbor folk. People from several lands sat at the rough-hewn
tables around us, even four Shinjans, noticeable for their pale skin and eyes,
and though they didn’t actually have red hair, as most Shinjans are rumored to
have, they wore red somewhere about them. The aromatic air was thick with the
clatter of many tongues.

We were on our second glass, paid for with great cheer by
Thianra, when Hlanan entered quietly and came to our table. “All the guests
have departed.” He spoke in Chelan.

“Then we may do the same,” Thianra said. “Ready, Lhind?”

I looked from one to the other. “If we’re definitely still
on for those twelve golders.”

“We’ll be planning that as soon as we reach our next
destination,” Hlanan said, palm raised in the universal sign for
I vow this is truth.
Which I know is scarcely
worth the air around it, but he hadn’t lied to me yet. That I’d caught, anyway.