The Raven Ring (36 page)

Gradually, the alleys widened and became lighter and less filthy. Finally, Karvonen paused beside a smooth wall of the ubiquitous gray stone. “This is the headquarters of the Imperial Guard,” he said, patting the wall gently. “There’s an entrance just around that corner. You’ll pardon me if I don’t accompany you farther, but I suspect that your solemn Commander has thought up a lot more questions for me since yesterday, and I’d rather not have to answer any of them. Particularly since I don’t have Lord Daner’s nobility to hide behind at the moment.”

“I understand.”

Karvonen started to turn away, then paused. “Eleret. May your knife do its work swiftly, and your raven’s-feet fly true,” he said in Cilhar. “And may we meet again in honor when this clash of arms is ended.”

The words of the traditional Cilhar farewell before battle sent cold lightning down Eleret’s spine.
May we meet again…
Generations of comrades, companions, knife-friends, and sword-mates had voiced that hope, knowing that the coming hours would be full of danger and death. For many—too many—the only meeting had come in the smoke of funeral pyres. For a moment, she could not move, but as Karvonen began to walk away, she pulled herself together. “Wait,” she croaked.

Karvonen stopped short. Slowly, he turned back, his expression both wary and questioning.

“You know a great deal about Cilhar customs,” Eleret said, trying to think how to phrase her request.

“Studying interesting places is a nice, safe way of filling up my spare time.”

“Do you know how to plait a battle-braid?”

“Yes, I—” Karvonen’s eyes widened, and for a moment a confusion of emotions swept across his face, too many and too complex for Eleret to be certain of anything but the astonishment. Then he took a breath, and was in control once more. “Are you asking me to do one for you?”

“Yes,” Eleret said firmly. They were heading into battle, no matter that they were the only ones who knew it. She wanted the comfort of knowing that she had done things right, that if Commander Weziral had to send her braid home along with her mother’s, her family would see that she had died fighting.
And Karvonen knows how, and as comrade and knife-friend he has the most right of anyone here.
Then, as a reluctant and uncomfortable afterthought,
Even if he is a thief.
She shoved both thought and discomfort away, and looked at Karvonen expectantly.

“All right,” Karvonen said. “All right, if you want it. Turn around and stoop a little so I can see what I’m doing.”

It took less effort than Eleret expected to turn her back to him and crouch in an awkward, hard-to-defend position. His fingers felt gently at her hair, loosening the old braid and separating the strands, then rebraiding them. She had not realized how intimate a task the battle-braid could be; no wonder it was normally done only by family or the closest of friends. Her head was oddly light, as if the touch of his fingers and the familiar-but-strange pull and twist of the braiding had removed a weight, instead of merely reshaping her hair.

“There,” he said. “I’m afraid I haven’t any red cord to tie it with, so I reused the brown.”

“The pattern is more important than the cord color,” Eleret said, straightening. She felt the braid hugging the back of her head, and nodded in approval. “Thank you. I wish I could return the favor.”

“Actually, I’d rather— Hold on a minute, there’s a bit coming loose on this side.” Karvonen frowned. “Bend over so I can tuck it in.”

Obligingly, Eleret leaned forward. Karvonen reached up and brushed his fingers along the top of her hair, then set his hand against the back of her head and, without warning, kissed her.

Total surprise kept Eleret motionless for a long and rather pleasurable moment. Then her training surfaced belatedly, and she pulled back. Karvonen released her at once, and grinned crookedly at her expression.

“What did you expect?” he said. “I’m a thief, after all. Good hunting, Eleret.” Before she could collect her wits, he had turned and vanished down one of the alleys.

TWENTY-SIX

E
LERET STARED AFTER
K
ARVONEN
, her thoughts skipping wildly from one spot to another like water-spiders on a still pond.
That’s why he
a
nd Daner don’t
…
That’s what Daner meant when… Oh, Mother of Mountains, surely not
both
of them. Why didn’t I see it sooner
? She felt like a fool. But how could she have guessed that anyone on active duty would try to start a courtship? Of course, Daner and Karvonen might not consider helping her as “active duty”; still, they should have seen that
she
was on watch even if she wasn’t under orders.
Blizzards take these Ciaronese, they don’t do
anything
like normal people. And
now
what do I do
?

The answer to the last question was immediately obvious, if not entirely relevant to her current puzzlement. Firmly, Eleret pushed the last few moments out of her mind and started down the alley. Daner and Karvonen might have other ideas, but she was a Cilhar preparing to confront an enemy. She would take time to consider things later, after the shapeshifter had been dealt with.

But the interesting problem with which Karvonen had presented her kept creeping back into her thoughts as she explained her business to the doorkeeper at the central building and followed a dour guard to Commander Weziral’s offices. The outer office was unoccupied today, and Eleret’s escort crossed directly to the other door. “Wait here,” he said, and vanished inside.

Eleret sat down on a long bench with her back against the wall. Try as she might to think of other things, Karvonen—and his kiss—intruded on her reflections. And Daner. She should be far more upset about Daner than about Karvonen; after all, Karvonen had never quite crossed the Cilhar boundaries for acceptable behavior…until that kiss. Now that she had the opportunity to recall things and examine them in an orderly fashion, she could see that Daner had been interested in courtship from the very first.
He just doesn’t know anything about Cilhar. But Karvonen does. Karvonen…

He’s a
thief.
He’s a coward
—
he says so himself. He’s probably a liar. He can play-act a messenger or disappear into a crowd. I shouldn’t trust him.
Eleret sighed.
But I do.

Unasked, he’d offered his help and information to a stranger. Eleret smiled.
Offered
?
He practically forced it on me.
More than once, he’d taken risks to help her. She’d named him knife-friend in public and asked him to plait her battle-braid.
What more do I want from him
?
What does he want from me
?
If that kiss was just another of his tricks…
But she did not really believe that.
Or do I only
want
not to believe it
?

The outer door swung open. Eleret straightened quickly, then relaxed as a dark-haired guard ushered Daner into the room. “If you’ll wait here, Lord Daner, I’ll tell the Commander you’re here,” the guard said, starting toward the other door.

“Eleret!” Daner said in tones of relief. “You did get here safely. And a while ago, I see; you’ve done something different with your hair. It’s charming.”

“I haven’t been here long,” Eleret replied, thinking,
A battle-braid, charming
? She felt both irritated by Daner’s interruption of her train of thought and glad of the distraction at the same time. “You must have hurried.”

“I certainly did,” Daner said. Eleret thought of Karvonen’s comments and almost smiled. “There was no sign of the shapeshifter at home,” Daner continued, “so I reinforced the wards and left without even talking to anyone. My father is going to be annoyed if he finds out.”

Before Eleret could respond, the inner door swung open and the two guards reappeared. Eleret’s escort looked, if possible, more dour than before; Daner’s wore a smug expression. “My lord Daner, Freelady, the Commander will see you now,” he said, and waved them into the office.

“Lord Daner, Freelady Salven, welcome,” said Weziral as the door closed behind them. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be with us this morning. Problems all settled?” He gave Daner a sharp look as he spoke.

“Not settled, but under control for the moment, I think,” Daner replied. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“So your man said.” Weziral leaned back in his chair. “Find a seat, the pair of you, before I break my neck trying to talk to the crow’s nest. Just dump something on the floor. It won’t hurt the floor, and I can’t remember what most of the papers are anyway.”

“I trust our absence this morning did not cause any great difficulties,” Daner said.

Weziral snorted. “Maggen caused the difficulties. It’s as well you weren’t here, my lord; I’d have felt guilty about wasting your time.”

“Maggen didn’t tell you anything, then?” Eleret said.

“Oh, he told us plenty. The problem is, it’s all lies, and I know it. But he won’t admit he’s been weaving the wind, so he sits in a cell and I sit here, and neither of us gets any further.” Weziral shook his head. “I don’t understand the man at all.”

“What did he tell you?” Daner asked.

“A lot of nonsense,” Weziral said. “The short version is that his noble cousin Lord Ovrunelli put him up to pulling these tricks—all of ’em, from trying to buy Freelady Salven’s kit to abusing his authority to have her arrested and brought in.”

Daner frowned. “If Lord Ovrunelli is behind Maggen’s interest in Eleret—”

“That’s just it,” Weziral interrupted. “He isn’t. Not only does he deny it, it’s flat-out impossible. Ovrunelli was in council all day yesterday. He couldn’t possibly have visited Maggen’s office at the times Maggen claims he was there.”

Eleret and Daner exchanged looks. “Lord Ovrunelli talked to Maggen
in person
?” Eleret said.

“That’s what Maggen claims. He won’t back down, either. The poor fool thinks Ovrunelli is going to use his influence to have him released.” Weziral scowled. “If he were under my command, instead of merely in my employ, I’d have him court-martialed. After all I’ve done to keep the Guard out of politics… As it is, all I can do is keep him locked up for a few days and then fire him.”

“I think perhaps we can explain Maggen’s misplaced confidence,” Daner said with another glance at Eleret. “There’s a shapeshifter in Ciaron who seems to be impersonating people by the boatload.”

“A shapeshifter?” Weziral said skeptically.

Both Daner and Eleret nodded. “He tried being me last night,” Daner said. “Fortunately, Eleret saw through him before he did any damage.”

“I see.” Weziral frowned. “You’re certain it wasn’t merely some actor’s trick, my lord? They can do some remarkable things with a little gum and horsehair.”

“There is no question of trickery,” Daner said firmly. “El—Freelady Salven talked with him for several minutes, and I was face-to-face with him myself at the end. He’s a shapeshifter.”

“Even so, do you seriously think he’d try to impersonate one of the Imperial Councilors?”

Eleret saw what was disturbing Weziral, and said, “I doubt that he’s learned any state secrets or given the Emperor bad advice. He relies on his appearance, and doesn’t bother trying to move or act like the person he’s imitating. That’s what made me suspicious of him last night, and I’ve only known Daner for a day. He couldn’t fool anyone who knows Lord Ovrunelli well.”

“Then how could he have fooled Birok Maggen?”

“Maggen doesn’t necessarily know Lord Ovrunelli well just because they’re related,” Daner said. “They may not even have met. Maggen’s father or brother may have been the one who requested Lord Ovrunelli’s patronage, and as long as he wasn’t asked to provide an important post for Maggen, Ovrunelli might not have bothered to make his acquaintance,”

“That would explain a lot,” Weziral said sourly. “I suppose we’d better have another chat with him. If you’ll come with me, my lord, Freelady…”

Weziral led them out of the office and through the maze of hallways to the courtyard. Their progress was interrupted repeatedly by various guards and officers who politely insisted on speaking with the Commander about one thing or another. Weziral dealt with most of the reports quickly; still, it was nearly half an hour before they reached the guardhouse where Maggen was being held.

“I’m sorry about this, my lord, but it’s something of a custom here,” Weziral said, turning back from yet another messenger. “As long as I’m in my office, they don’t worry me with the little things, but outside I’m a fair catch no matter who I’m with.”

“Don’t let it concern you,” Daner said, grinning. “My father has the same problem.”

“And if this happens all the time, you can be sure the shapeshifter wouldn’t get far imitating you,” Eleret said.

Weziral threw her a startled look and led them into the guardhouse. Inside, a heavyset officer took down their names before handing them over to another guard for escort to the cells.

The four cells had been built in a corner of the guardhouse, two against each wall. The open area in front of them was small and bare; apparently the questioning of prisoners was done elsewhere. A heavy oak shutter covered the top half of each door. Surprised, Eleret studied the shutters more closely, then nodded in understanding and approval. A small window would allow a single guard to pass food to prisoners with no chance of being overpowered. She would have to remember to mention the idea to Raken when she returned home. All of the shutters were closed, so it was impossible to tell how many of the cells were occupied.

The guard paused in front of the second door. “Just the shutter, sir?” he asked Weziral.

“No, open the door. It will be crowded enough with three of us to ask questions, without having to peer through the grille as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they entered the cell, Maggen rose from a straw pallet in one corner. A chamber pot sat next to the door; otherwise the room was bare. Maggen scowled at Weziral. Then he saw Daner, and his expression brightened. “Welcome, my lord! I knew Cousin Ovrunelli would send someone, even if he couldn’t come himself. I knew—” He broke off as Eleret moved into view. “What is
she
doing here?”