Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) (13 page)

“He must be a demon!”

“Oh, not in the least. His band can be demonic, you perceive, but he is kindness itself.”

“His band? Then he does not work alone?”

“To be sure he has a band. There are perhaps a score of them, all told, who serve the Blue Fox, and would permit themselves to be roasted over a spit for him.”

“The trey! What are they like?”

“They are not like the Blue Fox.”

“In what way?”

“They are vicious and cruel, and only kept in check by their loyalty to their leader. Why, if it weren’t for the Blue Fox, the roads hereabout would be unsafe for an honest man!”

“The Gods! From what you tell me, they are sufficiently unsafe now!”

“Oh no, my lord. They are perfectly safe for an honest man.”

“But you said that if you are wealthy, you are likely to be robbed, hung upside down, cut to ribbons, held for hostage, carved into pieces, and have your throat cut!”

“Yes, you have understood exactly.”

“My friend—”

“Well?”

“It is possible, you know, to be wealthy and yet to be honest.”

“How, is it? You perceive, I had not been aware of this circumstance. But then, I am a poor peasant, and so, naturally, ignorant of many things.”

“Oh, it is true, I give you my word.”

“Well—”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps someone ought to inform the Blue Fox of this. He does not seem to comprehend it either.”

“What does he do with all of his money?”

“Oh, he and his band spend it freely.”

“Where?”

“All over the county. They purchase food and wine and pic-nic in the glades, or else they will come into an inn and buy out all the supplies for everyone present, and command that music be played. I have had the honor to be present at one of these, and I assure you it was a wonderfully gay time.”

“Perhaps I should post a reward for their capture.”

“Oh, there is already a reward for their capture. Five hundred gold imperials for the Blue Fox, and four hundred for each of his band.”

“Why, that is a tolerably round number.”

“I think so.”

“And has no one endeavored to get it?”

“Some have, yes.”

“Well, what has become of them.”

“Why, three of them are buried behind this very inn. Others are buried elsewhere.”

“Oh, oh! I shall never arrive in Adrilankha!”

“Adrilankha?”

“Why, yes. I have bank-drafts on the house of my lord Kentra, who is my second cousin, and has a very sound institution—his assets are over a hundred thousand imperials.”

“Impossible!” cried the Teckla. “There isn’t so much money in the world!”

“It is the simple truth. And I have two drafts, one for five hundred gold, and the other for three hundred, and I must present them. But, if I am robbed and my throat is cut, well, you perceive it would be utterly impossible.”

“Well, yes, only—”

“Well?”

“What is a bank-draft?”

“It is very much like note-of-hand, only with a guarantee of gold behind it.”

“Oh, my lord, you perceive I do not comprehend at all what you do me the honor to tell me.”

“Have you never had anyone give you a note in which he admitted that he was indebted to you?”

“Why, my neighbor once had use of my prize boar, and I received a note saying that, in exchange, I should have my choice of shoats—at least, I believe that is what it said; you perceive I do not know my symbols.”

“Well, but did you receive the shoat?”

“Oh, certainly—and a fine thumping sow she was, too!”

“Well, you see, the same thing can be done with money.”

“How, can it? I had never known. And then, you get the choice of imperials when they have bred?”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. Well, in a way it is. But a draft on a bank is promise to pay gold, you see, just as you received a promise to pay you a shoat.”

The Teckla clapped his hands. “I comprehend!”

“It is good that you do, only—”

“Yes?”

“How am I ever to reach Adrilankha with my drafts?”

“Oh. You must avoid the main roads, that is all, and travel by back roads only until you reach Covered Springs. From there it is safe, or else, if you are still worried, there are barges that go down the river until you reach Adrilankha as easy as picking berries.”

“Well, but—”

“Yes?”

“I do not know these back roads. I should become lost.”

“Ah, ah. I had not considered this possibility.”

“What shall I do?”

“If you become lost, ask someone.”

“Is it safe to do so?”

“Certainly, as long as you are not wealthy.”

“Well, and if you are?”

“Then it may be that you will be asking someone in league with the Blue Fox. I am reliably informed that there are many such on the back roads.”

“I am lost!” moaned the traveler.

“Certainly, it is difficult,” said the Teckla, who seemed to be moved by the Tsalmoth’s distress.

“But what do others do in this circumstance?”

The Teckla considered for a moment, then said, “Some of them pay some local as a guide to show them safe paths.”

“And does this work?”

“Oh certainly. It is the safest way.”

“And what sort of compensation is expected for this service?”

“I beg Your Lordship’s pardon?”

“How much does it cost?”

“Oh. Three or four silver orbs will usually answer.”

“Very well. I will pay you four silver orbs to guide me safely to Covered Springs.”

“Me?”

“Certainly, and why not you? You know the paths, do you not?”

“Well, that is true.”

“And then, you can use the silver?”

“Oh, certainly. I could buy my adored wife an entire bolt of fine linen with it.”

“Then, there you are. An evening’s work, and you have a bolt of fine linen for your esteemed wife.”

“Adored wife.”

“Yes, pardon me. Adored wife.”

“It is a tempting offer.”

“Well, have we a bargain?”

The Teckla frowned, began to shake his head, appeared to reflect, and at last said, “Why not? Very well, I agree. When would Your Lordship wish to leave?”

“At once!”

“Oh, but—”

“Well?”

“I have half a cup of stout before me.”

“Very well, then. After you have finished your drink.”

“I thank Your Lordship exceedingly for his courtesy.”

“After you, my friend.”

“No, my lord. After you. I insist upon it.”

“Very well.”

The Tsalmoth led the way out of the inn and recovered his horse, which was saddled and ready. He mounted it, and the Teckla mounted upon a pretty little mule.

“Now, my friend, you must lead, as I do not know the way.”

“Yes, my lord. I am leading.”

“And I am following.” They set off through the night. There was little conversation as the Teckla picked his way among roads that were little more than the ruts of wagon wheels, sometimes little more than animal tracks, but, as he appeared to know where he was going, the Tsalmoth gave no signs of worry, until the Teckla suddenly stopped, and held up a single finger in the universal gesture for silence, a finger the Tsalmoth was able to observe by the light of the single lantern that provided the illumination for the journey.

After a moment, the Teckla said, or rather, whispered, “I hear something.”

“What do you hear?” asked the Tsalmoth, also in a whisper.

“I believe—I fear we are being followed.”

“You think so?”

“I hear horses behind us.”

“You seem to be worried.”

“Well, my lord, aren’t you?”

“Not in the least. Let us go on.”

“How, you are not worried?”

“So long as they are behind us, and not before us, I wish to continue. Besides, I think it likely you are mistaken.”

“You think so?” said the Teckla doubtfully.

“I heard nothing.”

“And yet—”

“Lead the way, my friend.”

“As Your Lordship wishes.”

The continued on for perhaps another mile before the Teckla stopped again.

“What is it?” said the merchant. “My lord, I am convinced that we are being followed.”

“You think it is this Blue Fox?”

“No … that is to say, I don’t know.”

“But, if it were, why have they not waylaid us?”

“As to that, I cannot say. And yet—”

“Well?”

“I am frightened.”

“And yet, didn’t you say that an honest man has nothing to fear?”

“That is true.”

“And are you not an honest man?”

“Oh, as to that—”

“Well?”

“I once cheated at cards.”

“That is not so bad.”

“You think it isn’t?”

“Not unless you make a habit of it.”

“Nevertheless, I am worried.”

“Well, if they are behind us, we cannot go back.”

“That is true.”

“And remaining here, well, we should not make any appreciable progress.”

“I cannot dispute with Your Lordship.”

“Then let us go on.”

“And yet—”

“Go!”

“Yes, my lord.”

From that point, they had not gone half a mile before they halted again, only this time it was not from the Teckla’s orders, but, rather, from the orders that came from behind a particularly thick tree—one that would have easily concealed a man even without the additional aid of the heavy darkness. Upon hearing the imperious command, the Teckla and the Tsalmoth both drew rein, the Tsalmoth saying quite coolly, “The Blue Fox, I presume.”

“So I am sometimes called, sir,” said the other, stepping out from behind the tree, and showing, in the dim light of the lantern, that he held a naked sword. Moreover, other figures now appeared, behind them, and the glint of steel came from their hands as well.

The merchant, however, said, “Address me as Your Venerance,” in a tone that assumed respect would be given—indeed, in a tone far different from what the Teckla had yet heard him use.

“Very well,” said the Blue Fox. “I have no objection to courtesy.”

“So much the better.”

“Now, if Your Venerance will be good enough to hand over his purse, why, he may be on his way without delay.”

“I’m afraid,” said the other, “that there must be a delay in any case.”

“Oh, indeed? I sincerely hope Your Venerance does not contemplate resisting us. There are, after all, several of us, and we are all
armed, and know what to do with steel, and, I give you my word, if you force us to pierce you, we will have your purse in any case, leaving you poorer than you would otherwise be, being reduced by not only whatever coins you may carry, but also by some quantity of blood, and perhaps even your life, upon which Your Venerance may place some value.”

“Some,” said the other.

“Well then—”

“But you mistake, I am not alone.”

“Oh, Your Venerance refers to Jami, your friend on the mule.”

“You know him?”

“Well enough; he has been of service to us before.”

The Teckla, Jami, bowed at this, while the merchant said, “It is good to have friends.”

“You think so?”

“I am convinced of it.”

“Then we are in agreement.”

“I have friends of my own, in fact.”

“Do you?”

“Assuredly. In fact, it was my own friends to whom I referred just now. I have three, as it happens.” And, even as he spoke, there was the sound of horses, and, indeed, three more drew up.

“Make light,” said the Blue Fox, and two of the bandits behind him lit lanterns, illuminating the face of the merchant.

The Blue Fox stared at the merchant in the growing light, and suddenly cried out, “Pel!”

The Yendi dressed as a Tsalmoth bowed from his horse, even as the three riders behind him drew up into the light.

“Hello, my son,” said Khaavren in a grim tone. “Well met.”

How Father and Son Spoke
After a Separation of Some Length

“
W
ell met, my father,” said Piro in a shaky voice. “You perceive, I had not expected you.”

“Am I less welcome for that?”

“Did you expect to be welcomed?”

“I had, perhaps, hoped.”

“As to your welcome, I cannot say. But at least you may dismount your horse—or, rather, follow us a short distance, and we will give you what hospitality we have in our camp.”

“Very well. I thank you for the hospitality.”

Piro bowed from his saddle, turned his horse’s head, and led the way.

“If the rumors are true, then I understand you are no longer in the service of the Empire, my lord.”

“The rumors are true, Viscount.”

“So much the better, as you are not, then, required to arrest me, and I am not required to decide if I am to resist you.”

“Would you have resisted me, Viscount?”

Piro shrugged. “I am pleased, my lord, that the question has not arisen.”

As promised, the bandit’s encampment was very close, and so, in a short time, they had arrived there, where Lar, who had been cooking, was more than a little astonished to see that he had additional guests for dinner.

“My lord Khaavren!” he cried. “And Your Venerance! And … oh my goodness!” After this outburst, and observing that Mica was not there, he retreated in confusion back to his work, which, at this moment, was to be certain each horse that had returned was safely tied up and well groomed, which task he carried out with his usual precision
before beginning on either a very late supper or a very early breakfast, a distinction the Blue Fox was in the habit of neither making nor requiring, wherefore the good Lar meticulously followed this example.

While the horses were thus being tended, the others sat down around the fire, except for Piro and Khaavren, who set off walking through the darkness together.

For a time, neither of them spoke, Khaavren because he could not think of what to say—or, at any rate how to say it; and Piro because, as he was the one who had been hunted down, he did not feel it was his responsibility to begin. This train of thought, however, led him to eventually break the silence with the words “How did you find me?”

“Ah, you wish to know that?” said Khaavren.

“You must understand my curiosity. I had thought I was sufficiently well hidden.”