Lhind the Thief (5 page)

I hadn’t seen my own reflection since the beginning of
autumn, when I’d found these clothes. I’d been certain then that nothing was
wrong. The weather was now warming toward spring, but plenty of men and boys
were still wearing cowls that hid shoulders, neck and ears, and many of those
wore caps over the hoods. In heatless houses it was the only way to keep warm.

My tunic was a plain, heavy, shapeless homespun brown—what
little of it could be seen beneath half a year’s accumulated dirt and grease. I
had sewn several pockets on the inside of it for quick stashing, and to fill
out my shape. Underneath it I wore heavy black man-sized kneepants, which came
down to my ankles. These were excellent for hiding bulky stash in. Below the
knickers were my bare feet, coated as were my hands and face with brown nut-oil
and weeks worth of grime. I turned my hands over, and found no challenge to the
anonymous brown of dirt. So I tipped the mirror up and peered at my face.

An anonymous face, I thought. Small nose and mouth, like my
short stature and thin frame, made me look much younger than I was, but what in
that would cause interest? My eyes were wide-set, my brows dark with the
nut-oil, and I’d seen plenty of people besides me who had eyes this same shade
the color of honey. There were also plenty of people who had more of a slant to
their eyes and brows than I did.

I threw the mirror back in the trunk in disgust. Who would
have thought that doing one tiny spell would cause this much bad luck?
Just count yourself lucky you weren’t seen by a Tu Jhan
magistrate.
I recoiled from the memory of the stake, and a figure
writhing in the flames.

Time to stop this and go do some spying. Maybe you’ll
learn something of use.

I returned the tray to the galley, swiping an apple on my
way out in hopes that Hlanan would get in trouble for forcing me on board.
Munching on the fruit, I returned to the deck and oozed along the gangway,
keeping a wary eye for dangers—and Hlanan.

The wind had come up strong in the bright, clean air.
Several sailors clung to yards high above, calling to one another as they
unreefed the sails, which bellied out in wind-filled curves. Near the base of
the tallest mast a grizzled man bellowed orders in a voice that would frighten
a stone. Yet not twenty paces from him two well-dressed females stood at the
rail looking out to sea, as if they were alone on a terrace at some castle. The
sailors paid them no more attention than they paid the sailors.

When I was five paces away, the ladies turned from the rail,
one’s skirts billowing out like the sails above. Their faces changed, and I
laughed aloud at the contrast. The yellow-haired one in the fancy gown looked
affronted, and ostentatiously drew away from me as if I was a giant slime bug.
The short-nosed one was Thianra. She gave me a welcoming smile, and started
right in with the questions. She
had
to be related
to Hlanan!

“Good morning, Lhind. Have you ever been aboard a ship
before?”

“No.” Since hers was an easy question, and she hadn’t forced
me onto the yacht, I made her the sort of grand bow I’d seen some of the
merchants give the Mayor on First Day of the Spring Fair. She laughed and made
a dainty curtsey, incongruous in her unremarkable blue jacket and riding
trousers. “And, good morning yourself.”

“Thianra, you
aren’t
going to speak to this revolting creature,” the other managed to drawl and sigh
at the same time.

“He is a guest, Princess, as are we,” Thianra asserted
gently.

“Next time maybe the pirates’ll take her with them, if she
prefers their company,” I said promptly. “Would serve the pirates right.”

The princess gave me a sour look and stalked away. Thianra
turned an observant gaze my way. “Princess Kressanthe isn’t usually quite so
rude. She’s slept badly since that frightening attack.”

“No matter.” I made a grand sweep with one hand, dismissing
the Princess of Pouters. “I’m sour myself, having been forced onto this yacht
entirely against my will.”

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “It’s just the unlikely
combination. Thievery, and Thesreve . . . ” She looked around.
“And magic,” she added quietly. “Hlanan, who’s an old friend of mine, did tell
me about that.”

“Thieves can steal a lot more than gold,” I said.

She tipped her head pensively, her air once again reminding
me of Hlanan, though in every other way they were different: he tallish and
slender, she medium height and roundly compact, he very brown, she with paler
skin and lighter eyes. Well, maybe there was a slight resemblance in the fact
that both had wide, thoughtful brows. “I think he wished to offer you a chance
at a better life.”

The brow could be accidental, and so could the air of question,
as well as their manner, as if we were equals. Disgusting as he was, I
understood Rajanas’s behavior better, and beyond avoiding him I did not have to
waste a thought on him. These two made me uneasy. “Hlanan’s related to you,
isn’t he?” I asked.

Her brows arched in surprise. “Yes, but few know that fact.
Can I ask you to keep it to yourself?” She was not only assuming equality, but
trust.

I hated that.

But I liked her.

So I shrugged. “No harm done. I’m mum. Anyway, you won’t be
seeing any more of me soon’s we hit port.”

She began to say something else when a shadow darkened the
corner of my vision. I ducked, keeping my back to a mast as Thianra turned and
smiled up at Rajanas. He’d come up as quiet as a cat. I oozed to her other
side, keeping her between me and the Rotten Road-Apple.

“Hiding behind an unarmed bard?” he inquired pleasantly.

“Why not?” I retorted. “And she’s not unarmed, she carries
at least one knife. Also, I wouldn’t have to hide at all if someone hadn’t
forced me on this tub.”

His eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Interesting that you
noticed. Few do.” I gulped inwardly, disgusted with myself, as he made a suave
gesture. In annoyance I mentally priced his rings. That ruby alone would feed
me for three seasons.

Thianra surprised me then by putting a protective hand on my
shoulder. “Kressanthe has been complaining to you, has she not? Don’t be angry
with Lhind. The princess was horribly rude.” I had no idea what game Thianra
and Hlanan were playing, but at least their rules seemed to be fair.

“She has indeed,” Rajanas said. “But I guessed what had
happened, and I stand more in her disfavor than this little thief does, for
informing her that she got what she deserved. So I can hardly chastise him for
angering her.” His tone to her after his words to me was like winter to
spring. “So I am not here as executioner, but as emissary. Hlanan thought the
boy might like to see the aidlar, and sent me to fetch him down.”

Thianra smiled. “Oh, yes. You’ll like Tir, Lhind. So
beautiful, and very rare this far south.”

She walked away, but before I could run, Rajanas snapped out
his hand and closed five steel-band fingers around my arm. In spite of his lazy
air, he could move pretty fast. Disgusted with myself for not keeping well out
of his reach, I went along without fighting.

When we got to the stairway leading below, he stopped and
held me against the wooden rail so that I had to face him. He said in a low
voice, “It’s clear you’ve a past. That doesn’t bother me. I’ve one as well. But
understand this. There will indeed be no retribution for your conduct toward
Princess Kressanthe, but I warn you against further baiting of her. You can
contrive to stay out of her way until we reach port.”

I shrugged. He must have considered that agreement enough;
he loosened his grip and with a mocking air of deference, indicated for me to
precede him downstairs.

Several doors opened off a narrow hallway. One of the
doors stood open, and we went in.

This cabin was larger than mine. Paintings graced the walls,
and Hlanan sat cross-legged on a wide, spacious bunk, next to neatly folded
counterpanes. Behind him the little window they called a scuttle stood open,
and salt air blew in, ruffling his fine brown hair.

When he saw me he smiled a welcome, and gestured toward one of
the carved shelves near the painted ceiling. There perched a long-bodied bird
with brilliant white feathers tipped with dark gray shading to black, a
seed-picker’s beak and eyes like the ruby in Rajanas’s ring.

“This is Tir, Lhind,” Hlanan said, pride warming his quiet
voice.

“Good mor-row, good mor-row,” the bird croaked.

Staring in fascination, I entered slowly. Memory stirred in
me, just as it did when I heard certain kinds of music. Had I ever seen such a
creature? I was instantly sure I’d dreamed of one.

The bird fluttered its wings, then flew from its high perch
to the edge of a chair near me. It looked at me from one eye then the other,
and without warning a voice said inside my head:

Hrethan!

The same voice that had spoken in my head the night of the
pirate attack. This time, the voice radiated recognition.

Yes
,
you
hear
me
.
You
are
Hrethan
,
in
false
guise
—

Though I had always been able to hear the thoughts of
creatures, never before had one contacted me. And no one, ever, had questioned
my disguise.

I clapped my hand over my ears and backed away. When I saw
Hlanan react with alarm, I realized he hadn’t heard the words—he’d been
startled by my movements. His smile faded into question, and Rajanas’s eyes
narrowed intently.

I dropped my hands and pretended to stumble against the
strong yawing of the yacht. Turning my eyes to the bird, I answered in my mind:
I
deny
I
am
anything
but
what
I
appear
.

You are Hrethan,
the bird answered, flapping its wings agitatedly.

Afraid it would squawk its words out loud, I shouted in my
mind,
DON’T TELL THEM.
And, because I
was frightened by this totally unexpected attack from an unexpected source, I
tried to force the other mind out. Something flicked down inside my brain, like
a little door or an inner eyelid, and once again I heard only my own thoughts.

The bird promptly shrilled in distress.

“What’s wrong, Tir?” Hlanan asked in a soothing voice, his
eyes wide with question, his manner evocative of surprised wariness as he
flicked glances from the bird to me and back again. Holding out his arm, he
murmured, “Lhind is our friend. Don’t be frightened.” He spoke like one would
quiet a frightened baby.

So he and the bird didn’t talk mind to mind. He had no idea
what the bird thought— how much the bird
knew
.

I edged toward the door as the bird settled on Hlanan’s arm
and croaked, “Lhind good! Lhind good!”

Hlanan’s perplexity eased to a tentative smile, but his gaze
was still speculative as he said, “There. Whatever happened, it’s all right
now.”

But it wasn’t. The bird kept flapping and trilling.

“Must be his smell,” came Rajanas’s dry voice—from right
behind me. Even more quiet than I, he’d moved to block the door. “The
distinctive aroma of vintage thief would upset anyone, obviously even a bird.”

“Rather smell than have the face of a wart-nosed
slime-dweller,” I retorted under my breath.

“What’s that you’re muttering?”

“I wish you’d take that cowl off, Lhind,” Hlanan interrupted
Rajanas’s laughing challenge. “It rides so low on your brow I find it difficult
to read your expression. Perhaps you aren’t really scowling as much as it makes
you look—” As he spoke, he reached toward me, as if to help me take it off.

“No!” I said, and I dove under Rajanas’s arm toward the
door.

At once those steel-band fingers closed on my arm, and Rajanas
pulled me back in. I twisted around and kicked his shin so hard I bruised my
toes.

Giving a grunt of surprise, Rajanas thrust me further inside
the room and let me go. So they wanted a fight? Backing up so I could keep them
both in view, I whipped out my knife and crouched, waiting.

“What? Where’d he get that knife?” Hlanan said, looking from
the flapping bird to me. “Tir? What’s wrong?”

Rajanas sank down onto a stool bolted to the bulkhead,
eyeing me in faint surprise. “Probably has a dozen of ’em in those clothes,” he
said with a soft laugh. “So you think the prospect of a bare head is a matter
for steel, eh, my noisome young miscreant?”

Hlanan sighed. “Put away your knife, Lhind. I am sorry. I
should have remembered that even an underage, half-starved thief has a sense of
dignity. If you object so strenuously, then we shall allow the subject to
drop.”

Rajanas laughed, waving a hand lazily at me. “As well.
Doubtless whatever he hides is sufficiently loathsome if he prefers that grimy
item as a mask.”

“Loathsome toe-mold yourself,” I snorted, walked slowly past
him. He did not move, merely watched. Keeping a suspicious eye on him, I
reached the doorway, then ducked out, slamming the door behind me.

I headed for the deck, limping on my numb foot, but when I
reached the stairway to the open air, I faltered. Nobody was following me, and
I knew the only way to get answers to some of the questions crowding my mind
would be to catch the cause unawares. So I sneaked back and listened at the
door.

They were not speaking in Chelan.

“—slippery little bug,” Rajanas was saying.

“And his remarks and actions remind me very much of us when
we were that age,” Hlanan returned. “You should know as well as I do that
people with lives balanced between hunger and danger grow up a lot faster than
most.”

“Or they don’t grow up,” Rajanas acknowledged, with one of
his sardonic laughs. “So what are you thinking now? You know your thief has led
a thief’s life. He’s entertaining, but useless.”