Silver Shadows (46 page)

Lucia Thione, formerly the ranking agent of the Knights of the Shield in the north, was a rarity in Tethyr: a surviving member of the old royal family, albeit a very distant relation. The tide of royalist sentiment in Zazesspur was swelling, and who knew what heights an ambitious man might reach with such a consort at his side? In addition to her purple blood, she was a woman of rare beauty and keen business acumen. At one time, Hhune would have counted himself lucky merely to spend time in her company. He was ecstatic to find her utterly in his power!

Of course he had said nothing of this to her. Lady Thione fully expected to meet her death hi the land of her forebears, and she had spent the trip trying to subtly insinuate herself into Hhune’a good graces. It was gratifying to hiro to have this beautiful, nobly bred woman pursuing his fevor, and he intended to allow her to work for it!

Eager though he was to install his “guest” in his country estate, Lord Hhune set a brisk pace for his town offices. Business must always come before pleasure. He strode in, nodded to the clerks, and called for his scribe.

To his surprise, the young Calishite brat—the royal apprentice Bank’s men had saddled him with—came to his bidding.

“Good day, Lord Hhune,” Hasheth said. “I trust that your business in the Northlands went well?”

“Where is Achnib?” Hhune demanded.

The lad’s face darkened. “He is dead, my lord,” he said bluntly. “May all traitors and thieves meet the same end. But you need not hear of this from my lips. Word of

your approach reached us this morn. Duke Hembreon awaits you in your office.”

Hhune’s boots suddenly seemed rooted to the floor. Amid the changeful winds of Zazesspurian power, the Duke stood as unbending as a sycamore. His was an ancient family with vast wealth, and he himself was a grave, distinguished man whose impeccable sense of honor and duty extended to all he did. Therefore, Hembreon tended to view his position in the Knights of the Shield as noblesse oblige. He was also one of the most important leaders of the group, Hhune reminded himself as he shook off his immobility.

The duke stood as Hhune entered the room and gave him his hand. “You have performed a great service to the people of the city.”

“I live to serve,” Hhune said smoothly, but he cast a quick sidelong glare at his young apprentice. Hasheth gave him a subtle nod, as if encouraging him to play along.

“As you requested, Lord Hhune,” Hasheth began, “in your absence I strove to ferret out who among your men might be in league with the Nelanther pirates. It was Achnib, as you suspected. Two of these pirates are even now hi the city’s dungeons—men who have sworn that Achnib hired them, paying with information of shipping schedules and routes.

“Nor was that his only crime. He was stealing from you, skimming the profit from the caravans and hoarding coin. What he planned to do with such is beyond belief.”

“Achnib was always ambitious,” Hhune said in a sage tone, hoping this would fit into the incredible scenario the younger man was weaving.

“The scribe was not content with selling information to the pirates. He began to traffic in armed ships with a ; warlord known as Buniap. Worse, there is a faint trail I which attempts to place this crime at your door.”

“Indeed?” Hhune managed, marveling at the young I man’s audacity.

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Incredibly, Duke Hembreon seemed to swallow the absurd recitation. He rose and extended a hand to Hhune.

“By your efforts, the city has gained use of a fleet of some fifteen ships. All Zazesspur owes you thanks.”

Hhune murmured a response and saw the duke on his way. Then he turned an ominous, narrowed gaze on his apprentice.

“Much of what I told the duke was true,” Hasheth said earnestly. “Achnib was skimming, and he was in league with the mercenary captain. But he lost his nerve and hoped to scuttle away in the confusion after your involvement with Bunlap and his logging operation became known. He attempted to buy passage to Lantan. To protect your interests, I had both Achnib and Bunlap killed, and turned the ships over to the Lords’ Council as confiscated goods. They would have found out about them, regardless. Better this way, and be a hero rather than a culprit.”

“You seem to be unusually loyal,” Lord Hhune pointed out suspiciously.

“What good would have come to me had you been brought low?” the young man said, reasonably enough. “Besides, the Knights were pleased by my initiative and permitted me to enter their ranks, and so, in protecting your interests, I served my own.”

Hhune shook his head, apparently stunned by all this. “What of Duke Hembreon? How did you learn the identity of such a powerful man among the Knights?”

“Palace intrigue,” Hasheth lied, thinking of the coin in his pocket. He wanted to impress Hhune with his many connections and his own importance. “One of the few benefits of being born a pasha’s son. There is more that you should know. The Harpers have been inquiring into your affairs. I thought it best that this matter was concluded, and quickly. The Harpers would not be contented as easily as Duke Hembreon.”

“Well done,” exclaimed an amused feminine^voice.

Hhune looked up; he had almost forgotten about Lucia Thione. “You have a talented new ally, my lord. Perhaps you would consider another? With three such minds, what could we not accomplish in Tethyr?”

Hhune regarded the beautiful woman and the hawk-nosed youth and decided that he could do worse.

“Meet my new apprentice, my dear,” he said to Lucia. “And Hasheth, this is Lucia Thione. Surely you recognize her family’s name and realize that it must not be spoken outside of these walls—at least, not until the mention of it can advance the fortunes of us all.”

For a moment the trio regarded each other intently. Relief was bright in Lucia’s beautiful eyes, now that she knew what Hhune had in mind for her. The lord saw also that she understood his purpose in making this introduction. The knowledge of her identity offered both potential power and grave danger—and the secret bound them together. It was a subtle way of accepting her offer, while reminding her that her fortune was bound indelibly with his. Hhune also noted the soft, warm look the woman cast over the impressed lad; this amused him. If Lucia was willing to use her charm to advance her position in Tethyr, so much the better for him.

“You should not have killed Achnib,” he told Hasheth mildly. “He was not terribly intelligent, but neither was he personally ambitious. He carried out his duties well enough, with loyalty usually found only in retainers with four legs and fleas. Such men are hard to find. I thought you might kill him, but I’d hoped otherwise. That is the only part of the test you failed, however. Overall you have done well.” ; “T-test?” faltered Hasheth.

: “Of course,” the lord returned in an amused tone. Tou do not think I would allow you to give away my entire ‘fleet, do you? Mark me, I am not happy about the ship :you gave to the pirates, but you shall pay for it from |your earnings. And other than that lapse, you did pre-Isisely as I had anticipated. The fleet is now hi the hands

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of the Council of Lords. I could not keep it—the risks of discovery were too great. But the merchants of Tethyr will continue to benefit from the protection the fleet offers, while the Council pays for its upkeep. And who, I ask you, is both head of the shipping guild and a ranking member of the council? Who will control this fleet?”

Understanding—and fear—began to enter the young man’s eyes as he realized he was not quite as clever as he had thought himself. The realization that he had been acting according to Hhune’s design—and no doubt with the lord in full knowledge of his activities—both humbled and horrified him.

“But how—” he began.

“How?” repeated Hhune coolly. “That is what you are here to learn. You have made a good start. If you wish to become a ranking member of the Knights of the Shield, you will have to do better. You may start by telling me about this pretty Harper of yours and her plans for Zazesspur.”

Arilyn said her good-byes to Hasheth several days after the final battle. The Harper listened to his explanation of the situation, doubting most of it but willing to let the matter rest. She reclaimed her horse from the young man, glad to be done with her sojourn in the southern city.

She had not particularly wished to return to Zazesspur, but Tinkersdam had elected to stay behind. He had acquired a taste for battle and decided that tumultuous Tethyr was as good a place as any to test his toys. Ferret, too, had traveled with her to the city, intending to even a score with Lord Hhune. Strangely enough, after a long and private conversation with young Hasheth, she seemed willing to abandon that notion.

But that very night, at the hands of an unknown and unseen assassin, the reign of Pasha Bank came to an

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abrupt and bloody end. It was rumored that he had been betrayed from within, for no one saw the assassin come or go. The only sign left behind was a long, jewel-colored scarf, such as that which might be used to fashion a lady’s turban.

And the next morning, Hasheth became a full member of the Knights of the Shield, having proved his loyalty by purchasing Hhune’s safety at a cost many men might consider too nigh.

Arilyn left before dawn, unaware of the events of the night just past and the changes that would soon sweep Zazesspur. Her heart was light as she rode swiftly toward the north—and home. For the first time in her life, she truly knew where she belonged.

The Harper had not gone far beyond the city walls when the she heard the sounds of battle on the road ahead. Incredibly, a familiar tenor voice was lifted over the clash of swords. She nudged her horse into a run.

The words of the song became clear as she neared the battle. Set to a mil inking tune, it was the sort of ditty she had come to expect—and had learned to endure.

“We’ve come to mourn the paladin, The best and noblest sort of man. His way was clear, his will was strong, But he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong!

“Alone he faced the orcish hoard, And, dauntless, drew his mighty sword. He did not flinch, he did not blink. He surely did not stop and think!”

A familiar mixture of exasperation and elation flooded the half-elfs heart. The irreverent song could have come from only one person. Arilyn flung herself from her horse

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and raced toward the fighting, her moonblade in hand.

But the battle on the road ahead was more comic than life-threatening. In the center of the conflict stood Danilo, his arms crossed as he observed the fight between his small band of hired escorts and a group of would-be brigands. For his part, he sang his battle song, which was probably meant to spur on the fighting in classic bardic tradition. Although how this particular song might have inspired anyone was beyond Arilyn’s comprehension.

Unaware of the amused half-elfs presence, Danilo continued to sing:

“The halls of Tempos opened wide;

Our paladin was led inside.

He shares with all his noble creed,

And frowns on wenching, feasts, and mead.

“We cannot mourn this hero’s death, Though of his strength we are bereft. If you must weep, weep for the god Who now endures this tiresome sod!”

Danilo did not content himself with his bardic endeavors. Between stanzas he cast small cantrips that threw confusion into the enemy ranks. Arilyn chuckled as a brigand fell facedown on the dirt path, his boot laces suddenly tied together.

The young mage looked up sharply at the rich, rare sound of elven laughter. When his gaze settled on Arilyn, joy broke, like a sunrise, over his face. He drew his sword and started fighting in earnest as he worked his way through the circle of fighters toward her.

Arilyn sighed. Danilo could handle a blade well enough, but he was no swordmaster. At the moment she had no patience for prolonged battle. So she drew the moonblade, held it high, and let out a ringing battle cry in the Elvish tongue.

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The brigands looked up, startled by the fearsome sound. The addition of an elven warrior to their foe was too much for their faltering resolve. The band scattered and made for the hills to the east—where, Arilyn noted with a touch of dark humor, a certain alchenust awaited them, all too eager for opportunities to try out his latest lethal devices.

The nobleman put away his sword and came swiftly toward her. Arilyn noted that Danilo’s face had been deeply bronzed by the summer sun, and he seemed leaner, hardened by life on the road. He looked considerably older, too, as if time had touched him in a way that a few months’ absence could not explain. Arilyn had no love for magic, but she recognized the mark that powerful spells left upon those who cast them. Apparently Danilo had not been idle during their time apart. It seemed that when tales were told, they would be spoken both ways!

There was something else about him that was different as well. Arilyn, who had recently come into a knowledge of herself and her path, recognized the peace of a similar understanding that lingered about him. Nor was there a hint of pretense on his face. For once the mask he held to the world was utterly gone and his heart was entirely in his eyes.

Danilo took her hands in his; this time Arilyn did not pull away,

“We meet as we parted,” he said quietly.

“Pretty much,” she agreed in a wry tone. “Why is it that I so often find you surrounded by people who’d dearly love to see you dead?”

A fleeting smile touched his face. The curse of charm, wealth, and fame, I suppose,” he said dryly. “But enough jests. I have sorely missed you.”

With these words, he released her hands and reached out to touch the enspelled moonstone that was set into the hilt of her sword. It was a gesture he had often made during the past two years. Suddenly Arilyn recognized it

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for what it was. It was the only caress she had permitted him, his only tangible proof of the bond that lay between them. She wondered, briefly, how much Danilo understood of her magical gift of rapport, or how he would feel when he learned it was no longer there. But she must tell him, and at once. No one could touch a moonblade but its wielder, upon pain of death.