The Redemption of Althalus (88 page)

“What were you doing to my mouth, Emmy?” Gher demanded in a baffled tone. “I don’t even know what some of those words
mean.
”

“It was absolutely beautiful, Gher,” Andine declared. “You spoke almost like a poet.”

“It wasn’t
me
who was talking like that, Andine,” Gher said. “I think Emmy stuck one of her paws in my mouth and sprained my tongue.”

“It was what’s called ‘High Style,’ Gher,” Bheid explained. “I doubt if
anybody’s
ever actually spoken that way.”

“It’s been quite some time since it was common,” Dweia said. “Let’s set the language aside for the moment, though, and stick to the event itself. Will you be able to build on what I gave you, Althalus, or are you going to need more?”

“I think there was enough for me to work with, Em. Ghend was there, and he was interested. That’s all I’ll really need.”

“As long as we’re going to go through with this, it doesn’t really matter that I was spitting ‘thees’ on the table and ‘thous’ on the floor, does it?” Gher said.

“It seemeth me that thou hast hittethèd the nail right upon its head, winsome Gher,” Leitha said brightly.

“Make her stop that, Emmy,” Gher complained.

“But none of that could have happened,” Eliar objected. “There
wasn’t
any new gold discovery back then.”

“There is—or
was
—now,” Dweia disagreed. “It wasn’t really all that big a change, Eliar. The gold deposit was all mined out in a dozen or so years, and nothing really significant came of it. The only thing of any real meaning that grows out of it is going to be Ghend’s involvement in the robbery. The sun will continue his journey, and the earth and the moon theirs. A slight dislocation in human history won’t alter the universe. There
is
one thing you should keep in mind, Althalus.
Our
dream vision happened now. You and Gher will remember it, because you were here in the House last night. When the two of you go back to the past, Ghend
won’t
remember it, because for him it hasn’t happened yet.”

Althalus chuckled evilly. “That’s all I need, Em,” he boasted. “I’ll have him for lunch. When do we start?”

“Did you have anything particularly important you wanted to do today?”

“Not a thing, Em. Not a thing.”

“Then we can start right after breakfast.”

Their preparations weren’t very extensive. Althalus had to discard his steel sword, of course, but he didn’t mind that: the bronze sword he’d worn when he’d first come to the House was a dear old friend anyway. Dweia modified the clothing Althalus and Gher wore to eliminate the buttons, and Eliar made a quick trip to Chief Albron’s hall to fetch a couple of horses. He was grinning broadly when he returned. “Sergeant Khalor sends his regards, Emmy,” he said, “and I’m supposed to tell you that everything’s going pretty much the way you wanted it to.”

“That’s nice,” she said with a faint smile. “Do you have enough money, Althalus?” she asked then.

“I think so,” Althalus replied. “If I need more, I’ll just pick somebody’s pocket.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said disapprovingly.

“It’s part of your education, Em,” he said piously. “Now that you’ve decided to lie, cheat, and steal, I’m just going to give you some demonstrations. Watch and learn, Em.”

“Go Althalus,” she commanded, pointing at the door. “Go now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eliar took Althalus and Gher through his “special door” to a trail that wandered up into the mountains of southern Arum. “I’ve got your horses picketed right over there,” he told them, pointing toward a nearby thicket.

Althalus nodded. “You’d better get out of sight, Eliar,” he said. “Ghend’s probably nearby, and I don’t think we want him to see you.”

Eliar nodded. “I’ll be at the window,” he said. “If you need anything, give me a shout.”

“Right,” Althalus said.

Eliar turned and then stepped out of sight.

“That’s spooky,” Gher, dressed once more in rags, said. “Even though I know what he’s doing, watching him just poof out of sight like that gives me the collywobbles.”

Althalus looked around to get his bearings. “This is the way we’re going to do this, Gher,” he said quite seriously. “There should be a crossroad about a half mile on up ahead. I’ll keep plodding along this trail while you get the horses and take them through the woods to that crossroad. We’ll meet there and make some show of acting as if we’d planned it that way a long time ago.”

Gher looked puzzled. “Why do it that way?” he asked.

“Because Ghend told me in Nabjor’s camp that he’d been following me. He might be somewhere nearby, or he might not, but I’m not going to take any chances. I was alone and on foot when I left Maghu, and if Ghend was following me, I don’t want anything to happen that doesn’t have a logical explanation. If he’s just stumping along behind me, he’s probably about half asleep, and I want him to stay that way. If he wakes up, he might start noticing things I’d rather he didn’t.”

“You’re awful good at this kind of stuff,” Gher said.

Althalus shrugged. “I’m the best,” he said modestly. “Oh, one other thing. I know that Andine and Leitha have been trying to teach you correct language. Forget about it. I want you to go back to ‘country boy.’ Start saying ‘he done,’ and ‘we was’ and ‘didn’t mean nothing.’ If you talk
that
way, maybe Ghend won’t realize how clever you are.”

Gher went back into the thicket, and Althalus walked on along the trail trying to remember every single detail of certain events that had happened some twenty-five centuries ago so that he could alter them slightly. He kept repeating the word “slightly” to himself as he plodded along.

Gher was sitting on a log at the crossroad, and the horses were tied to nearby bushes.

“I see you got my message,” Althalus called out.

“Well,” Gher said, “sort of. You didn’t pick such a good messenger, Althalus. He was pretty drunk when he told me what you wanted, so I wasn’t
too
sure I was getting it right.”

“He was the only one I could find on short notice. It looks to me as if you got enough of the message to meet me here.”

“I had to do a lot of guessing. Where are we going from here?”

“I want to go back to Hule, where I belong. I’ve had about as much of civilization as I can stand. Did you happen to see any taverns on your way here? I’ve been walking for a long time now, and I’ve worked up a powerful thirst.”

“There’s a village a few miles on up ahead,” Gher said, rising to his feet. “Anyplace where there’s a village, there’s bound to be a tavern.”

“Right,” Althalus agreed. “Let’s mount up and go see if we can find it.”

They went to the horses and prepared to mount. “Did I do all right, Althalus?” Gher whispered.

“You did fine, Gher. If Ghend
was
listening, our little talk covered everything we want him to know.”

“What if he
wasn’t
listening?”

“I’ll take care of that when we get to the tavern,” Althalus assured him.

You won’t have to do that,
Eliar’s voice silently spoke to Althalus.
Ghend’s about twenty feet away from where you are, and he’s got Khnom
with him.

Everything’s going the way it’s supposed to, then,
Althalus sent his thought back.
Thanks, Eliar.

Don’t mention it,
Dweia’s voice murmured.
Oh, by the way, I encour
aged Khnom to think about “thirsty,” so he and Ghend are probably going to be
in that tavern when you two arrive.

Encouraged?

Someday I’ll show you how to do it, love. It’s not really very hard.

Good.
“Let’s go, Gher,” Althalus said, nudging his horse.

The tavern was much as Althalus remembered it—except for a shaggy grey horse and a tired-looking bay tied to a rail near the front door. “The grey’s Ghend’s horse,” Althalus told his young friend quietly as they dismounted. “Let’s tie ours to that same rail.”

“Right,” Gher agreed. “Do I get to drink mead, too?”

No.
Dweia’s voice was very firm.

Althalus overrode her.
Sorry, Em. If he doesn’t drink
something,
it might
arouse suspicions in Ghend’s mind. I’ll see to it that our boy doesn’t drink
too
much.

You and I are going to talk about this, Althalus,
she told him ominously.

It’s always a pleasure talking with you, Em,
he said blandly.

Althalus and Gher tethered their horses to the rail and went into the tavern. “They’re right over there,” Gher said quietly, thrusting his chin at a table off to one side.

“Right,” Althalus agreed. “Let’s not sit too close.”

They sat down at a crude table near the door, and Althalus called for mead.

“That’s a fine-looking tunic you’ve got there, friend,” the tavern keeper said, placing two large earthenware cups of mead on the table.

Althalus shrugged. “It keeps the wind off my back,” he replied.

“He charges
how
much?” one of the patrons of the tavern demanded incredulously of a man who’d evidently just said something astonishing.

“One full ounce of gold,” the other man replied, “and Gosti Big Belly’s got a dozen men with battle-axes standing right there to make sure you pay before you cross that bridge.”

“That’s outrageous!”

“It beats trying to swim, and there’s no place where you can ford the river for five days’ ride in either direction. That bridge is Gosti’s license to steal. All the gold diggings are over on the other side of that river, but nobody’s going to get to them—or get back out—unless he pays what Gosti Big Belly demands.”

“Excuse me,” Althalus said to them. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, but my young friend and I are on our way to Hule, and I think that we might have to pick another route if that bridge you were just talking about happens to stand in our way on this particular trail.”

“If you’re going to Hule, you won’t have no problems, traveler. The Hule road runs along
this
side of that river, and you won’t have to pay nobody to use it. It’s the
other
side of the river that’ll bite big chunks out of your purse. There’s gold on that side, and Gosti Big Belly’s going to make certain sure that anybody who wants to go a-looking for that gold is going to pay to get there.”

“Where in the world did a Clan Chief get a name like that?” Althalus asked. “It doesn’t sound very respectful to me.”

“You’d almost have to know Gosti to understand,” another tavern patron explained. “You’re right about how a name like that would offend
most
of the Clan Chiefs of Arum, but Gosti’s very proud of that belly of his. He even laughs out loud when he brags that he hasn’t seen his feet in years.”

“If he’s charging people an ounce of gold to cross over that bridge of his, he must be getting fairly close to rich by now.”

“Oh, he’s rich, all right,” the man who’d announced the amount of the toll confirmed. “He’s way, way
past
rich.”

“Did he have his men build that bridge as soon as he heard about that pocket of gold up there in the mountains?”

“No, he had his bridge in place even before word of the gold leaked out. It all started some years back. There was this clan war you see, and Gosti’s father—who was Chief back then—got hisself killed in that war. That made Gosti the Chief, whether anybody liked it or not—and most of them didn’t. Gosti weren’t none too popular, since a Clan Chief’s supposed to be some kind of hero, and a real fat man don’t look none too heroic. Gosti’s got a cousin, though—Galbak his name is—and Galbak’s about seven feet tall and he’s meaner than a snake. Nobody in his right mind crosses Galbak. Now, Gosti’s not the most energetic fellow in the world, since he’s real, real fat, and like most fat men, he’s dog-bone lazy. Now, every so often, a Clan Chief has to visit other Clan Chiefs, and a five-day ride to the nearest river ford didn’t hardly set Gosti’s heart all aglow, so he ordered his men to build him a bridge across that river. Then, after it was finished, he came up with the idea of making anybody who wasn’t a member of his clan pay to use his bridge. Right at first, the price was only a penny, but after the discovery of gold up in the mountains, the price went up considerable.”

“A full ounce of gold goes beyond considerable, my friend,” Althalus said drily. “Why would anybody in his right mind pay that kind of price?”

“They’re
glad
to pay it. A man who’s just spent six months digging a hole into a mountainside starts to get powerful thirsty, and he starts to get real lonesome for the company of pretty women who don’t care how bad a fellow smells as long as he’s got a pocket full of gold. Gosti’s camped right across the only way out of the mountains, so he gets his share of every speck of gold that’s dug up, and he don’t even have to get his hands dirty. I don’t think anybody’s even come up with a word yet to describe just how rich Gosti Big Belly really is.”

Gher nudged Althalus with his elbow. “Look at Ghend!” he hissed. “He’s actually drooling!”

Althalus let his eyes casually drift across the faces of the other tavern patrons, giving Ghend only a quick glance in passing. The lank-haired man with burning eyes was pale, and the expression on his face was a grotesque exaggeration of undisguised yearning.

“I think he just swallowed our hook, Althalus,” Gher said smugly. “All we have to do now is pull him in.”

“Just exactly where is this toll bridge?” Ghend asked carefully in his harsh voice. “My friend and I are going north ourselves—probably in the same general direction as those two other travelers—and if this Gosti fellow’s as greedy as you say, he might just start collecting toll on the Hule road as well as on that bridge of his.”

“I don’t think he’d go quite
that
far, traveler,” the fellow who’d just recounted Gosti’s history declared. “The other Clan Chiefs wouldn’t stand for it, and that’d start a war.”

“Maybe,” Ghend said, “but I think my friend and I might want to get past the greedy man’s territory before he happens to think of expanding his little empire.” He drained his mead cup and stood up. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” he said sardonically, “and we’ll have to do this again one of these days.” And then he and Khnom left the tavern.