Oberon's Dreams (11 page)

The thought of provender set Corin’s stomach growling. He stretched up on his toes, looking toward the smoky common room. “Must I go
right
now? Isn’t there some stew?”

Delaen laughed. “The king will see you fed, but tarry not before you reach his throne. There is no time left to waste.”

Corin frowned. “But Aemilia—”

“Is not cut out for grand adventure. It is her only flaw.”

The pirate licked his lips. “Can the druids give me nothing?”

The old woman arched an eyebrow. “I have given you direction, boy. What more could you ask?”

Before he could find a cutting answer, she nodded to the door. For a long moment he stood unmoving, defiant, but then he hung his head and went out into the alley.

The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the bolt slide home. He was on his own.

Corin hesitated when he reached the alley’s mouth. Despite the late hour, the city streets still bustled. This place was so much like Aepoli. Lurking in the shadows, watching unsuspecting souls flow by, Corin felt a shock of memory—of a boyhood ten years in his past and perhaps a thousand in his future. How often had he waited just like this, terrified, hungry, and alone? There had always been grand plans. And insufficient resources. And enemies he couldn’t hope to defeat.

His weary sigh became a lazy grin and, favoring his hobbled leg, he pushed out into the busy throng and headed for the palace. That was the real key: recognizing the challenge. Everything about this place had seemed impossible and strange, and for a moment he had foundered. But now he had his ship aright and sails full. Now he was home.

Corin’s booted foot found an uneven paving stone and tripped him hard against a lovely elven lady wrapped in purple satin. Corin caught her just short of falling, and she gasped in affronted shock.

Her eyes grew wide to see a simple man—a manling, Ephitel had called him—clinging to her robes. “You…you…”

Corin summoned a blush and brushed at the delicate cloak where he had gripped it. He offered her a wealth of most sincere apologies, then slipped away into the crowd.

And now he had a purse.

Habits from his childhood came surging back, light and easy as a summer breeze, and before he’d crossed the wide Piazza Primavera, he had claimed a silver chain, two jeweled cuffs, and a beggar’s writ in Aemilia’s own hand. He’d always been a nimble touch, and these petty burglaries gave him some hope that he could truly navigate this strange society of gods.

His growling hunger somewhat dimmed that thrill of victory, but the purse now on his belt offered him an answer. He watched the signs above the street until he saw a likely looking inn, then paused outside the door to scan the common room for any sign of Ephitel’s men. Seeing none, he raised his chin and strode into the room. This was not his part of town, not the sort of tavern he preferred, but he didn’t know the city well enough to find a sufficiently shady tavern. Still, with stolen diamonds on his tattered cuffs and silver at his throat, he looked near enough a nobleman, especially when he dropped his purse atop the bar with an expensive clatter.

A barman bustled up to greet him, and Corin met the man with an impatient sigh. “Wine. And bread. And something rich and warm.” He sniffed the air. “Is that quail?”

“Duck, milord,” the barman said.

Corin winced. “Oh, very well. A plate of that. And sausage if you have some.”

The barman frowned, and when he spoke his voice was all affront. “We do make a fine duck, milord. Better far than sausage. Or…are you from the north?”

Corin hid his smile, but it was good to know some things had not changed so much. “I am, and dearly missing the food of my sweet Dehtzlan. But more than that, I thirst for information. What can you tell me of the politics at court?”

“I would prefer to tell you nothing.”

Corin showed him a worried frown. “Have things truly grown so bad?”

“I am not a powerful man, milord, and I have no one to protect me. Ask me for wine or rooms, but do not speak to me of court.”

“Very well. And you have rooms to rent?”

“One or two, upstairs.”

“Just one,” Corin said, snatching up his purse. “And see it’s clean. I’ll take my meal down here while that’s arranged.”

“I assure you, all our rooms are clean—”

Corin cut him off. “Even so! I am rich in standards and poor in patience. See it done.” He turned away and took two steps toward a corner table before calling back with easy authority, “And don’t forget the wine!”

Corin fell into a chair with his back to the wall. No news to a stranger, eh? That didn’t entirely confirm the druids’ suspicions, but it proved they were not alone in their paranoia. Corin would have preferred hard information over such scanty confirmation, but at least he had finally succeeded in procuring food. The duck smelled fat and seasoned, and any wine at all could satisfy Corin’s palate. Best of all, the request for a room suggested settling at dawn, so he could likely get away without paying a livre for the lordly meal.

Feeling mighty pleased, the pirate laced his fingers together behind his head, rocked back in his chair, and looked right into the eyes of the purple-robed lady whose purse he’d snatched. Corin’s mind raced as she surveyed the room. How could she have caught him? He’d been careful. And how could she have followed his weaving path through the crowded plaza? But surely she hadn’t stumbled into the same inn. What would be the chances? She gave a little squeak as soon as their eyes met, and in a flash she came to loom over his table.

For the first time, Corin noticed how bloodshot her eyes were. Harried. The corners were lined with old worry, and her stunning red hair showed here and there the fragile gray of much misfortune. She was not old; everything about her spoke of springtime youth, but it was one much muted by malingering frost.

Pity flushed warm and sudden in the pirate’s cruel heart, and right behind it burned a pang of guilt, but he suppressed them both as he rolled smoothly to his feet. He bent in a smooth bow, securing the purloined purse more perfectly beneath his cloak, then offered her a smile.

“Good even to a lovely lady. May I serve you in some way?”

Her troubled eyes narrowed. “You sneaking, thieving wretch!”

He didn’t let himself scan the room again for guards. He held her eyes and frowned in mock confusion. “Have we met, milady?”

She jabbed a finger at his face, threatening. “You accosted me in the Piazza Primavera.”

A couple at a nearby table turned in shock, and some gentlemen two tables over started to their feet, but Corin made a soothing gesture and met the lady with a surprised recognition. “Gods’ blood, that
was
you, wasn’t it? What fortune brings you across my path again? If you’ve come to demand a more intimate and…prolonged apology for our earlier encounter, I’ll be delighted to comply.”

“You will truly pretend you don’t know why I’m here?”

Corin shrugged. “I have always been a lucky man. Today need be no different.”

She held her glare for a heartbeat longer than Corin had expected her to, but still, it broke. Uncertainty creased her pretty brow, and once again the pirate had to hide a smile. These nobles were predictable.

He swept a hand toward the table. “Sit with me a while, and we shall clear the matter up. Some wine is on the way, and the barman won’t complain to bring another glass.”

No sooner had he spoken than the barman proved it true, delivering the open bottle and two glasses, then deftly departing before he could become involved. Corin poured a glass of dark-red wine and passed it to the lady. “To chance encounters and friendly fortunes?”

She cocked her head, outrage and indignation broken up and scattered by Corin’s self-assurance. Her hand was still extended, hanging between them in a forgotten accusation. “But…you…”

Corin pressed the glass into her hand and drew a chair for her to sit. “But I would be your friend. Whatever misunderstanding there is between us, I have every confidence we can settle it.”

“You…you stole my purse,” she stammered, sinking down.

The gentlemen two tables over sank back down in their own chairs. The couple nearest shook their heads and pretended not to listen. Corin took his seat across from the lady and pretended shock. “Are things so bad in Oberon’s own city? Are there thieves upon the streets?”

“You mean apart from you?”

Corin spread his hands. “I am no thief, my lady. If you dropped your purse in our encounter, I’m sure we’ll find it on the road. Or perhaps a friendly guard will have it for you.”

The lady stared at him for a moment, then she snorted in laughter. “Where have you come from?”

“Up north,” Corin said, holding to his lie. “This is my first visit to Oberon’s shining city. I did not expect a threat of thieves.”

She chewed her lip for a moment, considering him. “Is there anywhere so far away that you could be so blind? Or do the king’s lieutenants truly spread their lies that well?”

“I don’t understand.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Gesoelig is no shining city, farmer. The king has lost his grip, and those who seize control have little care for the people on the streets.”

“Ephitel,” Corin said. “He would make slaves of us all.”

“And not just the manling crowd,” she said. “But his fellow elves as well! Can you imagine?”

Corin blinked at the lady, but quickly concealed his shock. “Who will stand against him?”

“Against Ephitel? Are you mad? None would stand against him. He is the lord protector.”

“I know a druid who defied him just this afternoon.”

“Ha! And she’ll be dead by sunset, or buried in cold chains. He shows swift justice in this city.”

Corin licked his lips. “I notice you said
she
. Do you know the druid in question?”

The lady paled. She tried to hide her chagrin behind a long gulp from her wineglass, but Corin caught it. He leaned back. “How much do you know?”

She shrugged. “Rumor travels fast these days.”

“But not
that
fast, I think. How much do you know?”

The lady set aside her glass and met Corin’s eyes with a frank expression. “If anyone would stand against Ephitel, it would be the druids. They could not hope to win, but they are foolish in their way. And loyal as a dog to Oberon.”

“And Ephitel knows this? He watches them?”

“Everyone knows,” she said. “And everyone watches.”

Everyone watches
, Corin thought. That had been the way of it in Aepoli. The best way to avoid the investigators’ attention was to help focus it on someone else.

The pirate shook his head. “Aye. Everyone watches. Especially those who hope to gain some favor.”

The lady swallowed hard, ready to offer some objection, but Corin waved it away. “The university at Rikkeborh could not promise a better education in betrayal than the one I’ve gained since yesterday. And I was not naive before. I recognize a trap when it is closing around me, and you are hardly subtle. You recognized me on the street. I should have known it then. How much did Ephitel pay you to catch me? How did you lure me to bump you in the first place?”

She sucked a deep breath, ready to deny it all, but a heartbeat later she deflated. “I didn’t. That was chance,” she said. “And he has paid me nothing, yet. But there’s an offer on the druids, and you’ve been added to that list at a double portion. As soon as I recognized you, I thought…I thought if I could lead you to an investigator…”

Corin shook his head. “And what’s your trade, when you are not a sneaking traitor?”

She looked down at her hands. “I was a courtier once.”

“Ah,” he said. “Your trade was being rich and pretty.” She gave him a tight smile, and he shrugged a false apology. “And now?”

“I’ve nothing. Ephitel’s forces seized my father’s lands. I thought if I impressed him—”

“He would not have served you well,” Corin said. “He does play favorites, but only with those he respects or fears. You would be lucky if he even paid the promised bounty.”

With eyes narrowed, she said, “You seem to know him well, for such a stranger to the city.”

Corin sighed. “I have seen the world he made.” Curiosity flared in her eyes, but he waved away the question. Instead, he dipped a hand inside his cloak and tossed her purse down on the table. “Here’s your coin. You’re too pathetic to deceive.”

“Wait!” she said, frowning. “You really stole my purse?”

He chuckled. “And I’m giving it back. Now I’ve paid you better than Ephitel ever would.”

“I could still turn you in,” she said with a glance over her shoulder.

“You could. But you’d be better served by far to let me go.”

“How so?”