Assassin's Quest (42 page)

“I’m not precisely sure. From what I overheard, I think we go to Pelf’s house and ask for Nik.”

“From what you overheard?”

“You don’t think I have personal knowledge of smugglers, do you? I was in the public baths. Two women were talking as they bathed. Pilgrims on their way to the Mountains. One was saying it might be their last chance at a bath for a while, and the other was saying she didn’t care as long as they finally got to leave Blue Lake. Then one told the other where they were supposed to meet the smugglers.”

I said nothing. I suppose my expression said it all, for Starling asked me indignantly, “Do you have any better ideas? This will either work out or it won’t.”

“It may work out to us with our throats cut.”

“Then go back to town and see if you can do better.”

“I think if we did that, the man following us would decide we were certainly spies and do more than just follow us. Let us go on to Pelf, and see what comes of it. No, don’t look back.”

We returned to the road and walked to the next farmstead. The wind had become stronger and I tasted snow on it. If we did not find Nik soon, it was going to be a long, cold walk back to town.

Someone had once cared about this next farm. Once there had been a line of silver birches to either side of the drive. Now they were brittle scarecrows of trees, their branches long bare, bark peeling in the wind. A few survivors wept yellow coin leaves in the wind. Extensive pastures and fields had been fenced, but whatever stock they had held was long gone. The weedy fields went unplanted, the thistly pastures ungrazed. “What happened to this land?” I demanded as we walked past the desolation.

“Years of drought. Then, a summer of fire. Out beyond these farmsteads, the riverbanks used to be covered with open oak forests and grazing land. Here, these were dairy farms. But out there, smallholders ran their goats in the free pasturage, and their haragars scavenged under the oaks for acorns. I’ve heard it was magnificent hunting as well. Then came the fire. It burned for over a month they say, so that a man could scarcely breathe and the river ran black with ash. Not just the forests and wild meadows, but hayfields and homes were torched by the flying sparks. After the years of drought, the river was no more than a trickle of itself. There was nowhere to flee from the fire. And after the fire came more hot dry days. But the winds that blew carried dust now as well as ash. Smaller streams choked with it. It blew until the rains finally came that fall. All the water that folk had prayed for for years came in one season. Floods of it. And when the water went down, well, you see what was left. Washed-out gravelly soil.”

“I recall hearing something of the sort.” It had been a conversation long ago. Someone . . . Chade? . . . had told me that the people held the King accountable for everything, even droughts and fires. It had meant little to me then, but to these farmers it must have seemed like the end of the world.

The house, too, spoke of a loving hand and better times. It was two stories, built of timber, but its paint was long faded. Shutters were closed tight over the windows in the upper story. There were two chimneys at either end of the house, but one was losing its stones. Smoke rose from the other one. A young girl stood before the door of the house. A fat gray pigeon perched on her hand and she was stroking it lightly. “Good day,” she bid us in a pleasantly low voice as we approached. Her tunic was leather over a loose cream shirt of wool. She wore leather trousers as well, and boots. I put her age at about twelve, and knew she was some kin to the folk in the other house by her eyes and hair.

“Good day,” Starling returned to her. “We are looking for Nik.”

The girl shook her head. “You have come to the wrong house. There is no Nik here. This is Pelf’s house. Perhaps you should seek farther down the road.” She smiled at us, no more than puzzlement on her face.

Starling gave me an uncertain glance. I took her arm. “We have been given poor directions. Come, let us take ourselves back to town and try again.” At that time I hoped no more than to get ourselves out of the situation.

“But . . .” she objected in confusion.

I had a sudden inspiration. “Shush. We were warned these are not people to take lightly. The bird must have gone astray, or a hawk taken it. There is nothing more to be done here today.”

“A bird?” the girl piped suddenly.

“Only a pigeon. Good day to you.” I put my arm about Starling and turned her firmly. “We did not mean to bother you.”

“Whose pigeon?”

I let my eyes meet hers for a moment. “A friend of Nik’s. Do not let it concern you. Come, Starling.”

“Wait!” the girl said suddenly. “My brother is inside. Perhaps he knows this Nik.”

“I would not wish to bother him,” I assured her.

“No bother.” The bird on her hand stretched out his wings as she gestured to the door with it. “Come inside out of the cold for a bit.”

“It is a cold day,” I conceded. I turned to confront the whittler just as he was emerging from the line of birches. “Perhaps we should all go inside.”

“Perhaps.” The girl grinned at my shadow’s discomfiture.

Within the door was a bare entry hall. The fine inlaid wood of the floor was scuffed and had gone unoiled for some time. Lighter spaces on the walls showed where paintings and tapestries had once hung. A bare staircase led to the upper floor. There was no light save what came in the thick windows. Inside, there was no wind, but it was not much warmer. “Wait here,” the girl told us, and entered a chamber to our right, closing the door firmly behind her. Starling stood a bit closer to me than I wished. The whittler watched us expressionlessly.

Starling took a breath. “Hush,” I told her before she could speak. Instead, she took my arm. I made the excuse of stooping to adjust my boot. As I straightened, I turned and put her on my left side. She immediately took hold of that arm. It seemed a very long time before the door opened. A tall man, brown-haired and blue-eyed, came out. He was dressed like the girl in leathers. A very long knife hung at his belt. The girl came on his heels, looking petulant. He had rebuked her, then. He scowled at us and demanded, “What’s this about?”

“My mistake, sir,” I said immediately. “We were seeking one named Nik, and obviously we have come to the wrong house. Your pardon, sir.”

He spoke reluctantly. “I’ve a friend with a cousin named Nik. I could give word of you to him, perhaps.”

I squeezed Starling’s hand for silence. “No, no, we wouldn’t wish to trouble you. Unless you’d like to tell us where we could find Nik himself.”

“I could take a message,” he offered again. But it was not really an offer.

I scratched at my beard and considered. “I’ve a friend whose cousin wished to send something across the river. He had heard that Nik might know someone who could take it for him. He promised my friend’s cousin that he would send a bird, to let Nik know we were coming. For a fee, of course. That was all, a paltry matter.”

He gave a slow nod. “I’ve heard of folks hereabouts who do such things. It’s dangerous work, yes, treasonous work, too. They’d pay with their heads if the King’s Guard caught them.”

“That they would,” I agreed readily. “But I doubt that my friend’s cousin would do business with the kind of folk who’d get caught. That was why he was wishing to speak to Nik.”

“And who was it sent you here to seek this Nik?”

“I forget,” I said coolly. “I’m afraid I’m rather good at forgetting names.”

“Are you?” the man asked consideringly. He glanced at his sister and gave a small nod. “May I offer you some brandy?”

“That would be most welcome,” I told him.

I managed to pry my arm free of Starling as we entered the chamber. As the door shut behind us, Starling sighed in the welcome warmth. This room was as opulent as the other was bare. Rugs coated the floor, tapestries lined the walls. There was a heavy oak table with a branch of white candles for illumination. A fire blazed in the huge hearth before a half circle of comfortable chairs. It was to this area our host led us. He snagged a glass decanter of brandy as he passed the table. “Find some cups,” he peremptorily ordered the girl. She seemed to take no offense at it. I guessed his age at about twenty-five. Older brothers are not the kindest of heroes. She handed the whittler her pigeon, and gestured both of them out before she went to find cups.

“Now. You were saying,” he offered when we were settled before the fire.

“Actually, you were saying,” I suggested.

He was silent as his sister came back with cups. He passed them to us as he filled them and the four of us raised cups together.

“To King Regal,” he suggested.

“To my king,” I offered affably, and drank. It was good brandy, one Burrich would have appreciated.

“King Regal would see folk like our friend Nik swinging,” the man suggested.

“Or more likely in his circle,” I suggested. I gave a small sigh. “It’s a dilemma. On the one hand, King Regal threatens his life. On the other hand, without King Regal’s embargo on the Mountain, what livelihood would Nik pursue? I heard all that his family’s holdings grow these days is rocks.”

The man nodded in commiseration. “Poor Nik. A man must do something to survive.”

“That he must,” I agreed. “And sometimes to survive, a man must cross a river, even if his king forbids it.”

“Must he?” the man asked. “Now, that’s a bit different from sending something across the river.”

“Not that different,” I told him. “If Nik is good at his trade, the one should no more tax him than the other. And I’d heard Nik was good.”

“The best,” the girl said with quiet pride.

Her brother shot her a warning glance. “What would this man be offering to cross?” he asked quietly.

“He’d offer it to Nik himself,” I said as softly.

For a few breaths the man looked into the fire. Then he stood and extended a hand. “Nik Holdfast. My sister Pelf.”

“Tom,” I said.

“Starling,” the minstrel added.

Nik held his cup aloft again. “To a bargain in the making,” he suggested, and again we drank. He sat and asked immediately, “Shall we speak plainly?”

I nodded. “The plainest possible. We had heard that you were taking a group of pilgrims over the river and across the border into the Mountain Kingdom. We seek the same service.”

“At the same price,” Starling chimed in smoothly.

“Nik, I don’t like this,” Pelf broke in suddenly. “Someone’s tongue has been wagging too freely. I knew we should never have agreed to the first lot. How do we know . . .”

“Hush. I’m the one taking the risks, so I’ll be the one to say what I will or will not do. You’ve naught to do but wait here and mind things while I’m gone. And see that your own tongue doesn’t wag.” He turned back to me. “It will be a gold each, up front. And another on the other side of the river. A third at the Mountain border.”

“Ah!” The price was shocking. “We can’t . . .” Starling dug her nails suddenly into my wrist. I shut my mouth.

“You will never convince me the pilgrims paid that much,” Starling said quietly.

“They have their own horses and wagons. Food supplies, too.” He cocked his head at us. “But you look to be folk traveling with what’s on your backs and no more.”

“And a lot easier to conceal than a wagon and team. We’ll give you one gold now, and one at the Mountain border. For both of us,” Starling offered.

He leaned back in his chair and pondered a moment. Then he poured more brandy all round. “Not enough,” he said regretfully. “But I suspect it’s all you have.”

It was more than I had. I hoped, perhaps, it was what Starling had. “Take us over the river for that much,” I offered. “From there, we’re on our own.”

Starling kicked me under the table. She seemed to be speaking only to me as she said, “He’s taking the others to the Mountain border and across it. We may as well enjoy the company that far.” She turned back to Nik. “It will have to take us all the way to the Mountains.”

Nik sipped at his brandy. He sighed heavily. “I’ll see your coin, begging your pardon, before we say it’s a bargain.”

Starling and I exchanged glances. “We’ll require a private moment,” she said smoothly. “Begging your pardon.” She rose and taking my hand, led me to the corner of the room. Once there she whispered, “Have you never bargained before in your life? You give too much, too fast. Now. How much coin do you truly have?”

For answer, I upended my purse in my hand. She picked through the contents as swiftly as a magpie stealing grain. She hefted the coins in her hand with a practiced air. “We’re short. I thought you’d have more than this. What’s that?” Her finger jabbed at Burrich’s earring. I closed my hand around it before she could pick it up.

“Something very important to me.”

“More important than your life?”

“Not quite,” I admitted. “But close. My father wore it, for a time. A close friend of his gave it to me.”

“Well, if it must go, I’ll see that it goes dearly.” She turned away from me without another word and walked back to Nik. She took her seat, tossed the rest of her brandy down and waited for me. When I was seated, she told Nik, “We’ll give you what coin we have now. It’s not as much as you ask. But at the Mountain border, I’ll give you all my jewelry as well. Rings, earrings, all of it. What say you?”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not enough for me to risk hanging over.”

“What’s the risk?” Starling demanded. “If they discover you with the pilgrims, you’ll hang. You’ve already been paid for that risk in what they gave you. We don’t increase your risk, only your supply burden. Surely it’s worth that.”

He shook his head, almost reluctantly. Starling turned and held out her hand to me. “Show it to him,” she said quietly. I felt almost sick as I opened my pouch and fingered out the earring.

“What I have might not seem like much at first glance,” I told him. “Unless a person were knowledgeable about such things. I am. I know what I have and I know what it’s worth. It’s worth whatever trouble you’d have to go through for us.”

I spread it out on my palm, the fine silver net trapping the sapphire within. Then I picked it up by the pin and held it before the dancing fire. “It’s not just the silver or the sapphire. It’s the workmanship. Look how supple is the silver net, see how fine the links.”