Shadow Chaser (27 page)

I looked at Kli-Kli and he opened his mouth to share his impressions with me.

“Not a word!” I said, cutting him short.

“But I—”

“Shut up!”

“All right, Harold.” Kli-Kli submissively folded his little hands together like a priest of Silna.

To my mind I looked like a scarecrow in a vegetable garden. I could have gone off and started scaring crows straightaway. Clothes like this were definitely not for me.

“And how do you like my little outfit?” asked Kli-Kli, pulling off his cloak and spinning round on the spot.

The goblin had dressed himself up in something made out of scraps of blue and red and stuck a cap with little bells on his head.

“Colorful.”

“Then it’s just what’s required!”

When we walked down into the hall of the inn, strangely enough no one laughed at my outfit.

“May the gods be with us. Let’s go.” Miralissa caught my glance of surprise and explained. “I’m going with you; I have to check the house for magical traps.”

She had changed her usual gray and green elfin scout’s outfit for a very stylish purple silk dress with a black iron brooch shaped like the moon. Her invariable braid of ash-gray hair had been transformed into a tall hairstyle in the fashion of Miranueh, and round her neck she was wearing a string of smoky-yellow topazes, which harmonized beautifully with the color of her eyes. From a professional point of view I can say that a set of stones like that would buy five years of good living, spending money like water on daily sprees and drinking sessions … but if you looked at her with an unprofessional eye, she looked absolutely stunning.

“Take this,” she said, handing me the ogre bracelet. “When Balistan Pargaid asks Eel about the bracelet, you be there and give it to him.”

“What?” I asked in amazement.

“It’s no great loss, it has no value for us. But this is a chance to get close to the Key, if you can win our count’s favor.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I said with a frown. “Why should I have the bracelet, and not Eel?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“The carriage is ready, Lady Miralissa,” said the innkeeper, darting across to us.

“Thank you, Master Quidd,” the elfess said with a gracious smile. “You have been a great help to us.”

“Don’t mention it, I do it for my deceased uncle’s sake. You took revenge for his soul, and my entire family is indebted to you.”

“Remember, Harold,” the elfess told me as we walked to the magnificent carriage with a team of six Doralissian horses that Quidd had somehow managed to find, “we shall be in the house of a servant of the Master.”

I just had to hope that everyone at the reception was a bonehead and no servants of the Master happened to remember that a goblin left Avendoom in the company of elves.

We were hoping for a miracle, making a Vastar’s bargain with destiny. In the house of a servant of the Master. There was no need to remind me. I was only too aware of that.

8

DUKE GANET SHAGOR
’
S DRALAN

It was already dark and the carriage drifted through the emptying streets and parks of Ranneng like a phantom ship from the old sea legends. Kli-Kli, the elves, Eel, and I were sitting on the soft benches, Lamplighter and Arnkh had taken on the job of driving our carriage, and Deler, Hallas, Honeycomb, and Uncle accompanied us on horseback.

Miralissa had strictly forbidden the Wild Hearts to bring any weapons with them except for daggers. The Nightingales were too afraid of spies and assassins from the Wild Boars and Oburs to allow strangers to enter their house with any large sharp objects hanging on their belts. Deler had immediately asked the Elfess in a peevish, discontented voice: “But couldn’t you avert their eyes, Tresh Miralissa, the way you did with the Ranneng guard, after we rescued Master Harold and Eel?”

On that occasion it had cost the elfess a serious effort to ensure that the guardsmen would not notice the weapons sticking out from under our group’s clothes while they were riding through the town. The dwarf received a polite and chilly refusal, and he had to leave his beloved poleax at the inn. I hardly need to say that Deler was not particularly happy about this.

We came closer to the Nightingales’ estate and I began feeling calmer as the nervous trembling that I usually suffer before starting any job passed off.

After all, I’d been in all sorts of risky situations before, hadn’t I? Being a dralan for a while is a lot less dangerous than stealing the reward for my own head from the house of Baron Frago Lanten, the leader of the Avendoom municipal guard. And it’s nowhere near as dangerous as taking a stroll through the Forbidden Territory or a going down into the burial chambers of Hrad Spein. Jumping into a pit swarming with vipers and then climbing back out—surely that’s the very test for a master thief?

“As soon as you sense the Key, let us know and make your way to the exit,” Egrassa warned me, checking the edge of his crooked dagger with his thumb.

“Got you.”

He’s right, there’s no point in taunting demons any longer than necessary. The longer we hung about in the house, the more chance there was that we’d run into some kind of trouble.

I prayed hard to Sagot that there wouldn’t be any bright spark at Balistan Pargaid’s house who knew the real Ganet Shagor in person, or we’d find ourselves in a real mess that not even Miralissa’s shamanism could get us out of. And we couldn’t afford to forget about my old friend Paleface, either. He might have left the city without trying to settle scores with me, but … That piece of scum could turn up at the most inappropriate moment just as suddenly as he had disappeared.

“What are you thinking about?” asked the fool, jangling his little bells.

“The vicissitudes of fate and various possible kinds of trouble,” I answered.

“Don’t you worry, Dancer in the Shadows, I’m here with you!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“We’re losing days,” Miralissa said in a dull voice as she tidied away a lock of hair. “It’s August already, and we haven’t crossed the Iselina yet. If things carry on like this, it will be September before we reach Hrad Spein.”

“You are mistaken,” Egrassa disagreed. “The Black River is two days’ hard riding from Ranneng, then it’s two weeks to reach the Border Kingdom, and another three days from there to Zagraba. And then a week in Zagraba until we reach Hrad Spein. So we should be there in late August.”

“These are not our lands, cousin,” the elfess sighed. “The eastern gates of Hrad Spein lie in the territory of the orcs. We do not know how long it will take us to get through the Golden Forest.”

And we don’t know what we might run into on the way, either. Or how much time I’ll need in Hrad Spein. Or if I’ll be able to get the Doors open. Or if I’ll be able to find the Horn in the labyrinth of the Palaces of Bone. Or get back out with it.

“Time will tell,” the elf replied to Miralissa, and put his dagger back into its sheath.

Time! Accursed time. We lost too much of it in Hargan’s Wasteland, and now we’re losing more of it in Ranneng. If it goes on like this, we won’t get the Horn back to the capital before the start of winter.

Meanwhile our carriage was ascending the memorable incline that I had ridden down in the cart only a few days earlier.

“We’re almost there,” Kli-Kli murmured with a shudder.

Oho! So even the goblin is feeling nervous! And there he was trying to reassure me.

“Right, Harold, you know what to do. Put on a miserable face and pray to that Sagot of yours to help you find out where the Key is.”

Put on a miserable face?

“Will this do?” I asked, squinting sideways at the jester, and he gave me a thumbs-up.

“Whoa there!” we heard Arnkh say.

The carriage stopped. A man with a gold nightingale emblem on his formal uniform came up to the door.

“Name yourselves, my worshipful lords.”

“His Grace Duke Ganet Shagor, the honorable Milla and Erala of the House of the Black Moon, and Dralan Par!” the jester barked as crisply as a dozen royal heralds. “And, of course, the duke’s favorite jester. That’s me, in case you didn’t recognize me.”

Miralissa and Egrassa had changed their names for simpler ones, and that’s something quite unheard of. The pride of the race of the Secondborn does not, under any circumstance, allow an elf to use a name that is not his own. So today’s event must be very special indeed, if two elves from the highest families of the House of the Black Moon decided to change their names.

Members of a noble family could attract close attention of an unwelcome kind, so for the time being the elves had dropped their proud
ssa
. And in addition, although Pargaid had never seen us, he could have heard from informers in Avendoom about the elves called Egrassa and Miralissa who had visited the king, so we could hardly be too careful. The elves had changed their own names, but not the name of their house. For members of the elfin race, their house is absolutely sacrosanct.

“May I see your invitation, Your Grace?”

The jester insolently thrust an envelope under the guard’s nose. The light blue paper bore an embossed seal with a clear image of a nightingale.

“There! Any more questions? Or do you want to make His Grace angry?”

“I beg your pardon,” the soldier muttered in fright and started backing away, almost tripping over the scabbard of his own sword. “Proceed!”

Up on the coach box, Arnkh clicked his tongue to urge the horses on and the carriage set off, but then stopped again before it had even gone a yard.

Another guard came up to us. Unlike the first, he was dressed all in silk, not chain mail. His bald cranium could have been the envy of all the warriors of the Border Kingdom. He had a nose like a mountain eagle’s beak, thick bushy eyebrows, ears that stuck out, and a long beard. His eyes were the color of blue steel, and they slid over us with a piercing gleam, remembering our faces.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but may I take a look at the invitation?” this man asked drily.

“We have just been checked! You forget yourself, guard! You see a duke before you!” Eel snapped in a cold voice.

“My most humble apologies yet again, milord, but this is Balistan Pargaid’s order, and this check is for your own safety.”

“Give him the paper, fool!” Eel hissed. “Bear in mind that your conduct will be reported to the count, and I shall personally give you a flogging!”

“As Your Lordship wishes,” the man said indifferently.

“Yes, the seal is genuine,” he said with a nod after examining the letter carefully. “My most sincere apologies for the inconvenience.”

There was not even a hint of regret in his voice.

“Take this for your pains,” Eel said acidly, and tossed the man a copper coin. He automatically caught it and his eyes glinted in fury.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said with a bow. “I shall remember your generosity.”

The carriage moved on and the gates of the estate were left behind. Now we were driving slowly through a small park.

“There was no need to humiliate him,” Miralissa said after a pause.

“In Garrak the nobility are not used to dealing politely with commoners. I do what my character requires,” Eel said with an indifferent shrug.

“This is not Garrak, and that man is dangerous.”

“I know, but even so I did what had to be done.”

“That man is called Meilo Trug,” the jester said in a quiet voice.

“You know him?”

“Yes, I saw him five years ago at a tournament held in honor of the birthday of Stalkon’s younger son. He won the section for open combat on foot. A master of the long sword.”

“He might have recognized you,” I muttered anxiously.

“I don’t think so. I was watching him from the grandstand, but it’s not very likely that he saw me.”

The carriage stopped in front of the mansion house, in which every window was brightly lit. The door of the house opened and servants with golden nightingale emblems on their clothes bowed low and respectfully to us.

Kli-Kli was the first to jump out of the carriage, and he immediately started making faces.

“Milord, noble gentlemen!” said a man clutching something like a massive, richly decorated mace or staff as he bowed to us. “In the name of Count Balistan Pargaid I am happy to greet you! Follow me, you are expected.”

Eel nodded, which seemed to be exactly what the lad was waiting for. He swung round and led us into the building along a carpet runner. Kli-Kli overtook our guide and skipped along in front of him, jingling his little bells merrily. The herald tried to take no notice of the goblin twirling about right under his feet.

The reception hall began immediately inside the door, and it was bursting at the seams with guests. I didn’t know there were so many nobles in Ranneng and the surrounding area! And this was just one of the warring parties! There were all the Oburs and Wild Boars, too, almost as many of them as the Nightingales!

The hall was crammed to the breaking point, groaning and screwing up its eyes at the bright colors of the guests’ rich costumes, swooning over the vast diversity of hairstyles, choking on the smell of perfume. I glanced round the hall with a practiced eye, trying to keep an expression of disdainful boredom on my face. Yes, the valuables on the ladies would have made up a dragon’s treasure hoard. There were plenty of spoils on display.