The Thief's Gamble (Einarinn 1) (9 page)

'So?' I prompted.

'Well, their studies had nothing to do with Empire history as such. The geographer was starting to wonder if he was going mad, I mean, he's a Rationalist and a real extremist; he says he doesn't even believe in the existence of the gods. The metallurgist was putting it down to too much exposure to mercury fumes. Anyway, they got talking and it soon became clear that these dreams featured people and events that Ornale recognised from his studies but that the other two had never even heard of. You see, the records about the end of the Seafarer's reign are pretty incomplete and Nemith the Reckless's reign was so short, what with the Empire falling apart around his ears, that there's virtually nothing to find. Anyway, there was a governor in Califer and Ornale, because of his studies, is just about the only person who knows anything about him, but Drissle, that's the metallurgist, he was able to tell him the name of his dogs and things like that.'

I could see why Geris would never make a playwright. I broke in as he paused for breath.

'So how do we get from weird dreams to stealing an ink-horn in Drede?'

'You see, they couldn't find anything in any sources about dreams like this. There are some temple traditions about using dreams for foretelling, but that led nowhere. There's a Gidestan legend about a man who had visions in his sleep but—'

'Geris, I don't want to know all this,' I interrupted. 'Why am I supposed to steal an ink-horn?'

He looked a little sulky and was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. 'They decided to see if they could find a common factor which might have some significance.'

The scholarly mind, I thought, a complete mystery to the rest of us.

'It turned out they each had a small collection of Old Empire artefacts. Drissle had a money-scale, some seal matrixes and an alchemy chest, and Marol had maps, cases and a model of Aldabreshi, showing the way the currents move through the islands and change with the seasons. It's really interesting, you see—' He bit his lip. 'I don't suppose you want to hear about that either. They found they each had one thing that they felt really attached to, that they wouldn't sell for any money. All these things dated to within a few years of each other, just before the fall of the Empire, and they all cropped up in the dreams. They decided to experiment and swapped the artefacts with each other, but once the things were out of their possession, the dreams stopped. When they had them back again, the dreams started again.'

I looked ahead, we were catching up with Darni and Shiv. 'Get to the point, Geris,' I pleaded.

'They couldn't find an explanation so they decided there must be magic involved. They asked around, and found out that one of the mages, Usara, is researching into the fall of the Empire and the founding of Hadrumal. He thinks these dreams could produce valuable information, so he's organising people to find more of these antiquities.'

'And this ink-horn is one of them?'

'It's the right period and it's the sort of small personal item we find is associated with these dreams. The real clincher is the old boy who's got it really doesn't want to sell. That's generally significant.'

'He could just be greedy, looking for a high price, like over the tankard.'

'I've been meaning to ask you about that.' Geris grew more animated and his tone rose. 'Why did you choose that particular piece? That merchant had quite a few things we were interested in; that was the really likely one but it's not the most valuable. Did you handle it for long? Did you feel anything when you took it?'

'Geris!' Darni and Shiv had halted, waiting to cross a toll-bridge. 'What did I tell you?' Geris subsided into silence as Darni rode up.

'I'll tell her what she needs to know, when she needs to know it.' He rode forward to dispute the toll with the bridge-keeper and I stared at his back with real dislike.

We crossed into Friern and I let Geris drive us on in silence. I had plenty of questions but they could wait. Friern was not the place to have a major argument with Darni which might end up with me leaving the trio. We passed a tavern, the Grey Stag, and some while later stopped at a coaching inn, also the Grey Stag, to rest the horses and eat. I really don't like places where every inn is called after the local lord's badge. Lord Armile's militia were well in evidence as usual, galloping down the road with scant regard for anyone else. Enclosing the land had gone much further than the last time I'd been down this road: things were not looking good for the peasants here, significant numbers of whom were breaking rocks at the sides of the road for the work-bread. I was glad to realise we would only be cutting across the corner of the district.

It was late afternoon when the waystones listed Drede as our next destination and the road started to climb up into the downs. When we were still a little way short, Darni called a halt under a stand of willows and we let the horses drink.

'Now, Shiv and Geris will wait here,' he instructed me curtly. 'You and I will go into Drede. I'll show you the house and you can find your way in once it gets dark. As soon as you've lifted the horn, we'll be on our way.'

'Where to?' I asked mildly.

'I know a place we can stay, a private house not an inn. We should make it by dawn if we push it. Lesser moon's at three quarters, so there'll be enough light.' He addressed this last to Geris who was clearly about to object on his horses' account.

'What's the butt's house like?'

'The what?'

'The target, the victim?'

'It's a small place, a street house near the shambles.'

'And the man?'

'He's an old eccentric, an antiquarian. He's sixty if he's a year and in poor health, must be knocking on Saedrin's door every night.'

I shook my head. 'I'll need to see it first but I can tell you, I'm not doing it at first dark.'

Darni looked angry. 'You'll do as I tell you.' 'Not if you want this piece as badly as I think you do. Even with only a lesser moon there'll be people about until it sets at least, even in a small place like Drede. It's a street house, no yard, built up against the ones either side? That's not easy. If he's an old man, he won't be a heavy sleeper and let me guess, the house is packed full of oddities, floor covered, tables and books everywhere?'

'That's right.' That earned Geris a sour look from Darni. 'I'll go in just before moonset. You lot should go right through the town and put up at the first inn on the Eyhorne road. I'll meet you at dawn and we can set off like innocent travellers, keen to get a full day on the road.' 'I think—'

Shiv cut Darni off short. 'Livak's the expert here, so we'll do it her way.'

Darni shot him a filthy look but kept quiet. Interesting, I thought.

'So, who went to see the old man when he wouldn't sell?' 'Me and Geris,' Shiv replied.

'Then Darni's right, he'd better show me the place. Let's eat now and we can go in for an evening ale.' I flashed him a smile, doing my best to keep any triumph out of it, but he wasn't impressed. Sulk all you want, I thought, no skin off my fingers.

We ate fast and left Geris and Shiv playing runes under the tree. They were going to move on a little later when the roads were quieter and Geris seemed to want to improve his game for some reason. I'd told them to try and avoid any contact with anyone. The old boy might be halfway to Saedrin's table but I bet he'd make the connection between a memorable couple like them wanting to buy his ink-horn and it walking out of its own accord. The Watch round here weren't particularly bright but there was no point in risking witnesses who could identify them and their route.

We strolled into town and I considered taking Darni's arm, mainly to annoy him, to be truthful. I decided against it; he wasn't really worth the bother. I looked around as we walked, getting my bearings as it was a while since I'd been there. Drede is a nice little town, jumbled lines of houses of the local yellow stone, roofed with neat stone slates.

'Green door,' he murmured in conversational tone, 'alley to the right and ivy on the gable.'

I looked sideways under my lashes at the place he meant, scanning it for crucial information.

'He lives downstairs pretty much, from what Shiv saw,'

Darni continued. 'You can go in through the eaves window.'

'I could just put the door in with an axe,' I offered. 'That would be quicker and make about the same amount of noise.'

Darni was about to snap something back at me but I silenced him with a gesture to the other people in the street. I was getting very tired of him and his arrogance.

'That window hasn't been opened since it was built, by the look of the cobwebs and the ivy.' I kept my tone level and reasonable. 'Trust me to know what I'm doing, Darni. Isn't that why you dragged me into this masquerade?'

We moved on to the modest little inn on the market square and shared a flagon of ale. It is not a hostelry I'll be recommending to any of my friends but, to be fair, it may have been the expression on Darni's face turning the beer sour.

The sun set and the lesser moon rose pink and gleaming in the south. I got up and Darni had the wit to follow my lead. We sauntered along the Friern road and into the darkness; I matched my steps exactly to Darni's.

'Keep going, don't look around and I'll see you at dawn.' I slipped down an alley towards the shambles and Darni walked easily on his way, his pace not altering a beat. I shook my head with mixed exasperation and admiration.

The alley smelled of old blood, fresh dung and frightened animals. Not the sort of place where any courting couples would be trying their chances, so just the sort of place for me. I worked my way round the back of the slaughteryard and up another lane. I squatted down and made myself comfortable to watch the old man's place.

The mean glow of a single candle moved about from time to time and then the front went dark. The houses on either side went through the usual routine of cooking, eating, throwing out the slops and shuttering the windows. The chimneys stopped smoking and two lads from next door on the left went down to the inn, wandering unsteadily back as the moon rode high in the sky. There was a minor disturbance when they discovered the door had been bolted against them and their mother let them in with shrill rebukes.

I sat and waited. The little town grew silent and still. Soon all I could hear were rats foraging in the middens behind me and the occasional scuffle as a hunting cat was successful. I crossed the street and moved stealthily down the alley. Woodsheds, privies and pigsties were tucked into the narrow space that divided the uneven lines of houses. The old boy's sty was vacant judging by the lack of smell, which was a relief; pigs have good hearing and more than their fair share of curiosity as well as the ability to make an ungodly row. I ducked into the shadows and studied the door and windows. Not good; the casements were as warped shut as the front ones and the ivy just as rampant too. I didn't like it but I was going to have to try the door. I knelt and studied the mud by the step; no claw marks or paw prints, no dog hair caught in the frayed wood of the door jamb. So far, so promising.

I looked closer and blessed Drianon for looking kindly on her wayward daughter. The old boy had gone to the trouble and expense of a lock. Praying that he'd abandoned bolts on the strength of it, I pulled out my picks and went to work. I can shift bolts but it's slow work at best and often noisy.

He'd paid good money, I realised as time crept on. It was a complex lock, could even have been Mountain Man work. Finally I had the last tumbler shifted and I tried the latch as slowly as I could. It moved reluctantly against rust and grime, but there were no bolts. I slipped inside and paused to get my bearings. The room was stuffy with wood smoke, urine and sour milk. Rattling breaths came from the far side of the room and the dying embers showed a hunched-up shape in a chair by the range. My Forest sight was growing used to the dark and I could see a table laden with unwashed vessels and half-eaten food, logs heaped carelessly on the floor, rags and rubbish everywhere. I approached the door to the front room, then entered another world.

Books lay everywhere but all were organised by subject and author. No dust marred their leather and the central desk bore a stack of parchment covered in neat script. A gleaming spy-glass rested on a meticulous drawing of the night sky, and the bench by the window held herbs and flowers with detailed notes on their uses and habitats. The ink-horn sat on a small table beside quills, knife and dyes. It was a beautiful thing, a pale honey-coloured horn that I could not identify, mounted in red gold, the bands chased with delicate decoration. I reached for it and hesitated. I did not want dreams from the dark ages invading my sleep and I half wished I'd stayed ignorant about the whole affair.

Coughing from the kitchen startled me and I grabbed the piece, my heart pounding. What if he was in the middle of one of these uncanny dreams? Would moving it wake him? I shoved it back on the table like a candle dripping hot wax. My heartbeat drummed in my ears as I stared at the cursed thing.

Pull yourself together, I commanded myself silently.

I drew a deep breath, carefully picked up the ink-horn and held myself motionless, waiting for any reaction next door. I heard a blanket rustle and the creaking of the chair, then the old man's breath settled back to a rhythmic rasp. His lungs sounded bad. I wondered how he would manage the winter.

I scanned the piles of books quickly while I waited for him to return to a deeper sleep. If Geris and Shiv were searching for information about the end of the Empire, there was too much here to risk losing if he died in his sleep and the local peasants cleared the place. One small stack was devoted to the last emperors of the Nemith line so I tucked them into my tunic, drawing my belt tight. Once I was sure the kitchen was calm again, I slipped out. I took the time to relock the door, ignoring my accelerating pulse and the sweat that itched between my shoulder blades. There was no way the scholar was going to miss the theft but if there was no sign of entry, with luck the Watch would dismiss him as a confused old idiot.