Shadow Chaser

7 Bright Ideas From A Goblin

When our squad came flying into the yard of the inn on lathered horses, Uncle was waiting for us, striding nervously from one corner to another. His lips moved rapidly as he counted the riders and he smiled happily once he was sure everyone was safe and well. Honeycomb jumped down off his horse and started telling his friend in a low voice what had happened during our rescue. Uncle clicked his tongue in disappointment, regretting that his wound had prevented him from taking part in the battle.

I handed Little Bee’s reins to a servant who came darting up and then sat down on the ground right there on the spot. I was reduced to a state of total exhaustion; the final ounce of strength had been drained out of me.

“Hey, old friend? Are you still alive?” I heard a sympathetic voice ask.

Glancing up, I saw Bass towering over me.

“And what are you doing here?”

“He’s here on probation,” the jester said, plonking his backside down on the grass beside me. “Or something of the sort.”

“Something of the sort?” I asked like an echo.

Bass didn’t say anything, just looked at me expectantly. What did he want? Meanwhile Kli-Kli pulled one of his beloved carrots out from under his new cloak, crunched on it, and then spoke with his mouth full.

“You ought to know that if it wasn’t for your friend here, you and Eel would have been dead men,” the goblin explained as he chewed. “He showed us where they were hiding you.”

I gave my old comrade a quizzical look. He sat down warily beside me and started telling me what had happened. Kli-Kli occasionally forgot about his carrot and added his own weighty comments to Bass’s story.

Apparently Bass had been on the street when we rode down on the cart, and had seen me and the unconscious Eel being loaded into the carriage. He hadn’t tried to interfere (which was absolutely right—one man against a dozen is no kind of odds) but he had managed to follow the carriage outside the city all the way to the private country estate that was owned by the Nameless One’s followers. Remembering his childhood nickname of Snoop I was not surprised.

After finding out where we were being held, Bass had set off back to Ranneng, but the gates were already closed, and he had been forced to while the night away outside the city walls. But in the morning Snoop had hurried straight to the Learned Owl Inn.

“And how did you know about the inn?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

That day when we met him for the first time at the Large Market, he had simply followed our group. First to the Sundrop, and then to the Learned Owl. So he had known where to go for help. Although, of course, he didn’t know that he would run into a practical, and deadly, elf.

Ell’s first inclination was to let Bass’s blood, in line with the old folk wisdom that says if you trust everyone who comes along, sooner or later you’ll end up in the graveyard. But first Hallas and Deler, and then Kli-Kli—when he came back from his fruitless search for my own humble person—confirmed that they had seen this slob talking with Harold, who was now missing. So Ell had put away his knife, and Miralissa and Alistan subjected the informant to intensive interrogation.

I have to give the elfess her due—she suspected Snoop right up to the final moment, quite reasonably assuming that the person in front of her was either a top-notch swindler, or a follower of the Nameless One, or a servant of the Master, or darkness only knows who else. And so Bass was promised that, if he was lying, his eyes would be gouged out and every protruding part of his body would be sliced off in the most painful way possible.

Ell, Egrassa, and Honeycomb set off to reconnoiter the address given by Bass, and discovered that the house was absolutely teeming with characters of distinctly dubious appearance. And then the cavalry had arrived, in the person of almost all the rest of the group—Uncle had stayed behind to keep an eye on Bass and nurse his wound, which still hadn’t knitted together, even after Miralissa’s best efforts.

“Thank you.” It cost me a certain effort to say that to him. “If not for your help…” There was no need to say any more.

“Peace?” he said, holding out his narrow hand and smiling uncertainly.

“Okay.” I shook his hand. “But I need to have a serious talk with you.”

I was still angry with him for all those years when he hadn’t let me and For know that he was alive and well.

“All right, but a little later on. You look like you need a couple of days’ sleep. We’ll see each other again.”

Snoop set off toward the gates of the inn, but Ell sprang up in his way like an apparition of doom: “Where are you going, man?”

“You will have to stay, Master Bass,” said Miralissa, who had appeared beside Ell.

“But why, in the name of a thousand dead goblins?”

Kli-Kli choked on his carrot in surprise and looked at my old friend reproachfully.

“Our business in Ranneng requires absolute confidentiality and I’m sorry, but we can’t trust you, even though you have helped us.”

“Are you going to keep me under lock and key?” asked Bass, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“No, no need for that,” Alistan Markauz put in. “We’ll provide you with every possible comfort until our group leaves the city. There’s food here in plenty, and we can find you a bed, so do stay.”

“And what if I don’t agree?” Snoop always was a stubborn one.

A crooked grin appeared on Ell’s face.

“I advise you to agree,” he said.

“But I can hope that when all your ‘business’ is over, you will let me go?”

“Of course,” said Ell, without batting an eyelid.

Somehow, I wasn’t entirely convinced. Elves are a practical race, and it would be simpler for them to slit Bass’s throat out of genuine concern for the fate of our mission than to set a witness free to go wandering wherever his fancy might take him. I’d have to have a word with Miralissa when the time came, or her k’lissang could quite easily dispatch the rogue to the light. Ell was rather hot-tempered, and he had a short fuse when it came to things like that.

“Harold, my old friend, I’m so glad that you’re alive!” said Hallas, putting his arm round my shoulder (the short little gnome could only do that because I was sitting on the ground). “Come on, I’ll pour you a beer.”

“All right, old friend,” I said with a smile, getting up off the ground.

As I walked toward the door of the inn, I found myself thinking in surprise that I was changing despite myself. Shadow Harold, the master thief, the most skillful rifler of treasure chests in the whole of Avendoom, that solitary, morose character who never had any real friends and never showed his feelings to anyone, was changing. But for better or for worse?

Would I have called anyone my friend two months ago?

No.

I didn’t have any friends, except for my mentor, teacher, and second father, For. And as for taking a friendly drink with anyone … That was something I’d never done.

A thief, if he is a good thief, has to be alone. No family, no attachments, nothing that would affect his work or his safety. And that was how it had been until just recently. I was astonished to realize that now I could call those constant squabblers Deler and Hallas, that tiresome pest Kli-Kli, Miralissa, Lamplighter, and all the others my friends, and without the slightest hesitation.

As Eel and I quenched our thirst, we took turns in telling everyone (with the exception of Bass, who had been sent upstairs) what had happened to us. Naturally, without mentioning Loudmouth.

“At least there’s one thing we can be happy about in all this, Harold,” Arnkh said with a sigh. “The Nameless One’s followers will leave us in peace now.”

“We won’t have any peace. There’s still that Master of yours,” Honeycomb boomed in his deep voice.

“But you must agree it’s a completely different matter fighting on one front instead of two.”

“Oh, for sure.”

While they were talking I plucked up my courage and, when there was a pause, I said: “I had a dream…”

Alistan snorted suspiciously. He didn’t take my “visions” very seriously. Kli-Kli groaned dolefully and grabbed hold of his head. But Miralissa nodded approvingly. I told them about the Master’s prison and the Messenger’s conversation with the mysterious woman.

“Interesting,” the elfess said after a short pause. “You seem to have some special affinity for the Master. I must tell the chroniclers of the House of the Black Moon about this—perhaps they’ll be able to learn something from it. But if your dream really is prophetic, then this Lafresa is dangerous for us. If she should manage to get hold of the Key first, all is lost. Somehow I have no doubt that this woman would be able to break the knots that bind the artifact.”

I chose my words carefully. “Lady Miralissa, why can’t the Master’s servants simply deliver the artifact to their lord without waiting for this woman?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Alistan, supporting me. “What could be easier than to deliver the glass bauble to where it’s needed without having to rely on the witch?”

“The Key is attuned to Harold, and if it is delivered to the place where the Master lives without those bonds being broken, it could be too dangerous for our enemy.”

“Wait!” The impassive Eel looked up from his food and stared at the elfess in amazement. “You know where the Master lives?”

“I can guess,” the elfin princess replied reluctantly. “The Master, if he controls beings like the Messenger and endows his servants with such powerful magic, must be in a place where there is a concentration of immense power. And in a place like that, an artifact attuned to someone else would create such powerful turbulence in the flow of magic that the Master would be deprived of his powers and abilities for a long time. Therefore they have to destroy the bonds first, and only a highly experienced shaman can do that.”

“A place of power, the House of Power,” I muttered to myself, recalling the phrase that the messenger had spoken to Lafresa.

“What did you say?” Miralissa asked sharply.

I raised my eyes from my plate and looked at the elfess in surprise. She was gripping the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles had turned white.

“I said ‘the House of Power’… do you know something about it?”

I spotted the swift glance that Miralissa exchanged with Kli-Kli.

“The question is: Where did you hear about it?” she answered.

“In my dream,” I said with a shrug, and then recited the list: “House of Power, House of Pain, House of Love. House of Fear…”

The swarthy elfess’s skin turned paler and paler with every name. Kli-Kli choked on his custard pie and started coughing. Deler thumped the goblin on the back with all the generosity that his dwarf heart could muster.

“I do not like your dreams, Harold! What else have you discovered?”

“Well … nothing,” I said, rather surprised at the fervent insistence of this lady who was always so calm.

“Are you sure?” The amber eyes drilled into me, trying to draw out the innermost secrets of my soul.

“Yes,” I replied quite honestly, without turning my eyes away.

She suddenly went limp and seemed to age. Wrinkles of fatigue appeared on her forehead and in the corners of her mouth; the fingers with the black nails reluctantly released their grip on the tabletop.

“What did I say?”

“That would take too long to explain, Harold. We don’t have time for it just at the moment,” Kli-Kli said hastily.

Was that a note of nervous tension I heard in the little goblin’s voice?

I cleared my throat and stared down at my plate, still mechanically stirring my soup with the spoon and thinking that the jester and Miralissa had far more business and secrets in common than they showed.

Secrets.

Nothing but secrets. They were dancing and prancing around me like the shadows from a flaming torch, but there was no way I could get a grip on them. More and more secrets, so many that soon I would drown in the murky stream. Who is the Master? Who is Influential, or Player? Why does the Master want the Horn? Is he the Nameless One’s enemy, too? Why does the Master take such pleasure in playing cat and mouse with us? Who is the Messenger? What is that world of Chaos that I entered in my dream? What kind of strange dreams are these? What are the Houses of Power, Pain, Love, and Fear? And a thousand and one other questions that I don’t know the answers to.

I didn’t ask the elfess and the goblin any questions—Miralissa would only have fobbed me off with a seductive smile, and Kli-Kli would have pretended to be a total fool.

I had lost my appetite, but I stoically finished my soup, feeling the elfess’s searching glance on me as I ate.…

“We need to have a talk, thief,” Alistan Markauz said drily when I got up from the table.

“Of course, milord.”

“Follow me.”

He started up the stairs to the second floor of the inn, without even looking to make sure I was following. I walked up after him. Egrassa and Miralissa were already waiting for us in the room. Ell wasn’t there; he had taken on the job of keeping an eye on Bass, who at that moment was dining in the hall and trying to teach Lamplighter how to play some card game or other.

“Have a seat, Harold,” said Egrassa, pointing to a chair. “A glass of wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I was immediately on my guard. The dark elves had never offered me a drink in their company before. Miralissa’s cousin was exceptionally courteous today. And they say that elves are spiteful, wicked creatures.

But then, so they are.

Men have never really lived at peace with the dark elves of Zagraba or the light elves of the Forests of I’alyala. There has always been friction, through all the thousands of years that our two races have known each other. Fortunately, things have never gone as far as open war, but border skirmishes have been common, especially during the period after men first appeared in Siala.

The dark elves had concluded a treaty of peace and friendship with our kingdom, but before that the yellow-eyed race had never shown any great fondness for the inhabitants of Valiostr. And even now the elves were not helping us to resist the Nameless One out of the sheer kindness of their hearts. Elves have about as much kindness in their hearts as their closest relatives, the orcs.

That is, none.

The silence in the room dragged on. I eventually cleared my throat and asked:

“What did you want to see me about?”

The question sounded a little impolite, but what can they expect from a thief? Fine manners? I don’t have them.… Or, rather, I do (thanks to For), but I didn’t want to use them at that moment. They’re going to ask me again what it was that saved me in Hargan’s Wasteland or how I found out about the houses.

“Be patient, thief,” said Alistan Markauz, who was standing at the window. “We’ll start as soon as Kli-Kli gets here…”

“Kli-Kli’s already here. You can start, Your Grace!” The jester slipped in through the door, winked at me, and sat down on the bed. He was relaxed now, playing the fool, nothing like the lad sitting at the table downstairs who had suddenly tensed up when he heard my innocent phrase about the House of Power.

“Well now … I didn’t talk about this downstairs, your friend is there, Harold.”

“I think he should be locked up for the time being,” Egrassa said with a glint of his fangs. “It’s ridiculous that we should suffer the inconvenience of hiding in our own home.”

“Everyone else already knows the news, so you and the Garrakian are the only ones left,” Alistan Markauz continued, although it was clear that he shared the elf’s opinion concerning Bass. “Ah, and here he is…”

Eel entered the room silently, nodded politely, and froze, leaning back against the upright of the door frame in a pose that reminded me of a statue from the beginning of the Age of Dreams.

With this latest arrival, the small room suddenly felt rather crowded.

“We have found out who owns the estate and where the Key is,” Markauz said sternly, turning away from the window.

“Are you sure that it’s still there?”

“It is in the city,” the elfess answered for him.

“I beg your pardon, Tresh Miralissa, but how can you be sure of that?”

“I applied the bonds to the Key. I can sense it. If it was not in the city … But then you should sense it, too, as the one to whom the Key is bound.”

“You must be mistaken, I don’t feel anything apart from fatigue and the need to sleep,” I muttered discontentedly.

“It’s just that you’re as thick-skinned as a herd of mammoths, Harold!” said Kli-Kli, taunting me as usual.

“Perhaps it’s not there yet, but it will come. Especially when you find yourself close to the artifact. It’s like a kind of itch. And the house where they are hiding it belongs to Count Balistan Pargaid.”

When the elfess said that, Milord Markauz glared at me, as if he was expecting some kind of immediate response.

“So?” I asked stupidly.

Kli-Kli grabbed hold of his head in despair and started groaning as if all his teeth were aching.

“Harold, you’ve locked yourself away in your own little world and you can’t see further than your own nose!” the goblin said. “Count Balistan Pargaid is the most influential individual in the south of Valiostr. The antiquity of his family line rivals the Stalkon dynasty, not to mention the fact that he is the leader of all the Nightingales and a very, very dangerous character. He is no ardent admirer of our king. He keeps a low profile, but give him a chance, and the Pargaids will advance their claim to the throne. And believe me, they have a serious right to that claim. Now that we know Pargaid is conspiring with the Master, I am doubly afraid for the king’s welfare.”

“Pargaid and his standard-bearers can put up eight thousand swordsmen, not counting all sorts of other petty riffraff. A force like that has to be taken seriously,” Alistan rumbled.

It was obvious that he was not fond of Pargaid. But what is the love of a nobleman worth, anyway? They’re always squabbling over land, sticking daggers in each other, slipping poison into each other’s drinks, and then the simple soldiers are the ones who have to bear the consequences.

“His lands extend from here almost as far as the oaks of Zagraba, and as for gold…”

“All right. So we’ve found out who the estate belongs to. Now what are we going to do?” I asked, looking at Alistan.

He tugged on his mustache and answered reluctantly. “I don’t think there’s any way we can simply break into his house. Without a map of the patrols and without knowing exactly where the Key is … it would be suicide. The Nightingales’ guards will be on the alert. It’s a big house, and you won’t be able to run round all the rooms. The risk is too great.”

“You’re absolutely right, milord. There’s no simple way to get in there, and if we do get in, we need to know exactly where the artifact is.”

“Kli-Kli has suggested a plan of how we can infiltrate the count’s house.”

Kli-Kli? Has suggested? A plan? I glared at the goblin in astonishment.

“Well?” he asked testily. “Do you think I’m incapable of proposing a brilliant plan?”

“You’re capable all right,” I said, making no attempt to argue. “Only I have absolutely no doubt that your brilliant plan will lead us all straight to the graveyard.”

“All right, Harold. It’s not a brilliant plan, just a few bright ideas from a goblin. So where was I now? It’s no secret that the day after tomorrow Count Balistan Pargaid is holding his annual reception in honor of the great victory of the Nightingales over the Wild Boars two centuries ago. And we have a genuine chance of getting into the festivities—”

“I beg your pardon, Kli-Kli,” Eel put in. “But I find it hard to believe that we will be allowed into the Nightingales’ holy of holies for a polite how-do-you-do.”

“Don’t worry, Tight-Lip. They’ll let us in, all right. Not only will they let us in, they’ll actually invite us themselves! Balistan Pargaid is well known as a dedicated collector of antiquities, and that will be very helpful to us.”

“Kli-Kli, have you really got some rare old book of your grandfather’s stuck in your back pocket?” I asked provocatively.

“You’re a fool, Harold. Show him, Lady Miralissa.”

Without saying a word, the elfess handed me a bracelet. I turned it over in my hands, studying it carefully. Black steel, crudely forged, runes, writing in what I thought was ogric.

“Is this really what I think it is?” I asked, looking up at Miralissa.

“I’m not a mind reader, Harold.” For a fleeting moment the black lips curved into a smile. “Yes, it is very valuable. The bracelet was forged by the ogres in the times before they withdrew into the Desolate Lands.”

Yes, that was it. A piece of ordinary metal, not even a single ounce of precious metal, but the antiquity of the item, and the fact that it was one of the very few artifacts still surviving after the ogres, made it worth two or three hundred gold pieces. Serious money. Especially for someone in my profession.

“So we buy our pass into the house with this?” I asked the goblin.

“We’ve already bought it! While you were resting on that soft straw, we weren’t just sitting about doing nothing. Count Balistan Pargaid has already been informed that this rare piece is in the city and he has politely forwarded an invitation for the Duke Ganet Shagor to attend his modest reception, and to bring his valuable treasure with him.”

“Mmmm…,” I murmured. “I don’t quite catch the connection between us and this duke.”

“The connection’s absolutely direct, Harold,” Kli-Kli said, looking at me with a mocking smile. “Duke Ganet Shagor is none other than yourself, in person!”

That was the moment when I realized I was going to strangle the little blackguard for his stupid bright little ideas.

“Kli-Kli,” I said, trying to speak in a quiet, ingratiating voice. “My friend, did you have too many magic mushrooms for breakfast again? What sort of duke will I make?”

“The perfect kind. You want to get into Pargaid’s house? Then you’ll be a duke,” the jester snapped back.

“I don’t know how to be a duke!” I exploded. “I’m a thief! A thief, not a nobleman and a high society peacock! Couldn’t you find anyone else for the job?”

“Who do you suggest, Harold?” Miralissa asked. “The Wild Hearts will not do, they are warriors. Anybody would recognize them as simple men straightaway. Milord Alistan cannot do it, he is known at court. Who does that leave? Only you.”

“Why does it have to be a duke, why not an elfess or a miserly dwarf?”

“Because news about the collector has already spread through the city, and the collector is a man.”

“But I don’t know all those stupid noblemen’s rules—etiquette and all that high society stuff! I’ll be spotted in the first five seconds!”

“Oh, Harold, don’t make me laugh!” said Kli-Kli, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs to and fro jauntily. “Do you think those idle spongers will understand anything? You’re a duke now, not just some lousy little marquis. Just put on your usual gloomy face, and no one will even come near you or ask you any questions. Just be haughty, cold, and smug, like Master Quidd’s turkey cock, that’s all!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, shaking my head. “This is a wild gamble.”

“Our entire journey to Hrad Spein is a gamble,” the jester said in a serious voice. “We have two days. I’m going to try to teach you something in that time. And I’ll tell you your life story.”

“Are dukes as thick in our kingdom as flies on rotten meat? Kli-Kli, fear the gods! Everyone knows who all the dukes are! Where are you going to get another one from? Overseas? With my accent even a Doralissian could tell that I’ve lived in Valiostr all my life!”

“Now, don’t get so excited! There is one duke, the king’s second cousin via one of his grandmothers. He’s an eccentric, he lives like a hermit and hasn’t left his castle for twenty years, so no one will recognize you as an imposter.”

“But there are—”

“If I say no one, that means no one. Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you, and if anything happens—”

“No!” I snapped.

“No what?”

“No. You won’t be there with me!”

“And why’s that?”

“Kli-Kli, you’re a walking disaster with two skinny little legs! If you go with me, we’ll definitely never get out alive!”

“I’m going with you, Dancer in the Shadows, that has already been decided. And in any case you’ll need a retinue and prompter. In case you didn’t know, dukes don’t go out visiting all on their own.”

“A fine retinue! A little green fool!”

“Precisely, a fool, you fool! Who’s going to take any notice of you when a jester appears in the house?”

Hmm? Well, I had to admit to myself that the goblin was talking sense there—if he pulled a couple of his rotten tricks, everybody would be keeping their eyes on him.

“They could recognize you as the king’s jester.”

“No chance!” he retorted. “The chances of meeting a familiar face among the Nightingales are very slim. And anyway, all goblins look the same to you humans. It will all go off perfectly, no one will suspect a thing. Master Quidd has already obtained garments appropriate for the occasion. You will be accompanied by Egrassa. And the other six lads, as a guard of honor.”

“I’m sorry, but any child could see through your plan! I don’t look like a nobleman, I don’t look like a duke, and no matter what you say, a single question about heraldry, and the truth will be obvious! I swear by Sagot, this will be a disaster! We’d do better to risk breaking into the house! I repeat, goblin, we have absolutely no chance.”

“Not only do we have no chance, we have no choice, either,” the goblin sighed. “Or do you have some other duke in mind?”

“I do,” Eel said unexpectedly.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“You can’t be a duke!” Kli-Kli objected after a pause. “You’re a Garrakian! And Ganet Shagor isn’t!”

“I can help with that,” Miralissa put in. “Applying a different likeness is hard, but it’s worth trying, and after all, Eel really does look more like a nobleman. What do you say, Eel?”

“I think I can play the role of a nobleman successfully, my lady,” the Garrakian said dispassionately.

I gave a sigh of relief and nodded gratefully.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Harold,” Kli-Kli said with a menacing frown. “You’ll still have to go to the reception.”

“Kli-Kli is right,” Miralissa confirmed. “You’re the only one who can sense where they are hiding the Key.”

“But Lady Miralissa, you said you could sense that the Key was in Ranneng.”

“I can tell that it is in Ranneng, but only you can point out the precise spot.”

I sighed. “During a reception, servants wait outside for their masters.”

“Yes, and that’s why you will not be a servant.” The goblin’s blue eyes glowed in triumph. I was afraid even to ask what brilliant ideas the fool had gotten into his little green head this time.

When he realized that I wasn’t going to ask who he wanted to turn me into now, Kli-Kli said: “We’ll make you a dralan.”

“Kli-Kli, all the high-society people will have steam coming out of their ears if he has a dralan with him.”

It’s no secret that those who once used to root about in the mud and now bear a noble title are not much liked by those who inherited their titles from their noble forebears.

“That will only make everything all the more amusing.” The little green fool will do anything for the sake of amusement.

“What do we have to do at the reception?” I asked, bowing to the inevitable.

“Drink sparkling wine, eat pheasants, and make intelligent conversation about the weather.”

“Not that, Kli-Kli! What do we really have to do?”

“You have to try to find out where Pargaid is hiding the Key. Don’t worry, Miralissa says that as soon as you’re close enough, you’ll feel your connection with it.”

Well, if Miralissa says so.… But I’m afraid the dark elfess is wrong this time. Why didn’t I feel the Key when we had it?

“I just have to find out where it is?”

“Yes. I don’t think you’ll be able to take it with so many people around,” the elfess said.

Well … I’d pulled off trickier jobs than that in my young days, and I’ll manage to steal this thing one way or another.

“There is one other little problem, Tresh Miralissa. Paleface could come back at any moment, and he knows what I look like. Did Lamplighter manage to find out anything about where Rolio went off to?”

“The assassin left the city in great haste along the southwestern highway. We must hope that he will not come back in time for the reception.”

“You will have to take the risk, thief.”

I wish you could take it, Milord Alistan. This is an absolutely wild adventure! If you ask me, it would be easier to take the manor house by storm.

The next day I was simply unbearable, and I made Kli-Kli regret his brilliant idea of turning me into a dralan. But Miralissa and the goblin completely disregarded my argument that a commoner who had only recently been promoted to high society didn’t need to learn all this stuff.

I never realized that being a nobleman was so complicated. Only someone with noble blood flowing in his veins could possibly keep all those absolutely stupid and unnecessary things in his head.

I learned the correct way to pick up a wineglass, bow, behave at table, pay compliments, maintain a significant silence, challenge someone to a duel, and to discuss eternal philosophical themes, horses, hunting with falcons, military parades, jousts, heraldry, and all sorts of other trash that has no place in the daily life of a self-respecting master thief. By the end of the day the excessive load of superfluous knowledge had given me a splitting headache.

Duke Shagor’s coat of arms happened to be a hedgehog on a field of purple, and the effort of trying to make sure I wouldn’t make an absolute fool of myself turned me as prickly as an entire herd of my noble lord Eel’s heraldic beasts. By the end of it all, the mere sight of Kli-Kli was enough to set me hissing and spitting like an angry tomcat, but even so he and Alistan kept hammering the knowledge into my head—it turned out that every dralan had to know all the ancestors of the lord who had granted him his noble title.

A family tree is no joke, I can tell you. Remembering who married who, when, how, what for, and how many little children they had, and then who married who, when, how, what for, and so on to infinity …

Eventually I got Eel’s new relations totally confused and I mixed up his grandaunt, the most benign Duchess de Laranden, with the second cousin of his grandnephew by his sixth half sister, who was married to the uncle of his mother’s twelfth sister via the father-grandmother-grandfather line. Kli-Kli spat in annoyance and said I was hopeless if I couldn’t remember such a simple little thing and stomped off to the kitchen, leaving Arnkh and Lamplighter, who had been splitting their sides with laughter while I suffered the torment of my training, to make fun of me.

“If I had that many relatives, I’d run away from home!” Arnkh gasped through his laughter.

“You did run away,” Mumr reminded the man from the Border Kingdom.

That set Arnkh laughing even louder, and he almost spilled a mug of beer on his chain mail as he wiped away his tears.

An hour before we had to leave I suddenly got the shakes and started walking from one corner of the inn to the other, like a garrinch in a cage. I had the feeling that we were tempting fate with all our subterfuges and all this was not going to end well. “I swear by Sagot, we’re going to run into big trouble,” I thought. “And all thanks to Kli-Kli, may the orcs catch him!”

“Marmot,” I said to the Wild Heart who was training his ling, Invincible, “did you see where the jester got to?”

“Take a look in your room; I think he was doing something in there.”

Well, of course the considerate goblin was preparing my costume for the reception. I still hadn’t seen my gala outfit. Kli-Kli had refused point-blank to show it to me, obviously out of concern for the state of my nerves. All the other characters in the masquerade had already been given their new clothes: green vestments for the Wild Hearts, with a gray hedgehog on a purple field sewn on the chest; Eel was decked out in a very expensive noble’s outfit with a tall starched collar and wide, dark brown sleeves; and Egrassa had already changed into a blue and yellow tunic embroidered with a black moon—the symbol of his house.

I found Kli-Kli frantically trying to shoo a fly away from his bowl of cherries.

He looked so ridiculous I couldn’t help asking, “Don’t you ever get tired of playing the fool?”

“That’s my job, Harold,” the goblin sighed. “If I didn’t play the fool, I’d still be at home, in Zagraba, studying to be a shaman.”

“You don’t regret it, do you?” I asked, taking a handful of cherries.

“Not really … Everything that happens is for the best. And anyway, if I wasn’t here, who would protect you?”

“Me? Are you telling me that you protect me?” We’d been through this conversation a hundred times or more.

“Well, who does, if not me? You’re only still alive thanks to me,” the jester said, puffing himself up proudly.

“The things I have had from you, my little green prankster, include prickly thorns across my backside, cold water in my bed, a stupid prophecy, and the false title of a dralan, with a fancy peacock’s outfit—a gift from the duke—to go with it. And by the way, where is my costume? I’d like to take a look at what you ordered for our obliging innkeeper to pick up for me. What am I wearing to the reception?”

“Ah!” said the jester, taking my point. “You’ll soon see.”

“Soon? Why not right now?”

“We still have one important thing left to do. Follow me, Dancer in the Shadows, and you will have your final lesson.”

“You can go into the darkness! Is there no end to all this?” I asked furiously. “You tormented me all day long with that heraldry of yours. It’s enough to drive the Nameless One crazy, let alone an ordinary thief. That’s enough lessons for today!”

“You’re not an ordinary thief. You’re a master thief,” said the jester, pointing his finger at me. “And I must at least show you how to dance in respectable company.”

Every idea Kli-Kli has is crazier than the last one.

“Why not teach me to deliver babies, too? Dralans don’t get invited to dance. And anyway, I know how to dance without any lessons from you.”

“Yes, you do, some djanga or galkag or whatever.” Kli-Kli gulped down a cherry, screwed up his left eye, took aim, and spat the stone out the window. “But noblemen’s dances are quite different altogether. Come on, you don’t want to mess things up just at the wrong moment, do you?”

I groaned, not for the first time that day, but there was nothing to be done and I had to tramp after the jester into the large open hall, cursing the day that had brought the two of us together.

All the Wild Hearts were gathered in the hall. Even Bass was there. He was frowning in puzzlement at the soldiers’ rather strange servants’ costumes but, fortunately, he didn’t understand a thing.

“Hey, Deler!” Kli-Kli called. “Come over here!”

The dwarf broke off his quarrel with Hallas and waddled to us without hurrying. In his bodyguard’s outfit he looked like a cow in the uniform of the Heartless Chasseurs.

“What do you want?”

“Listen, Deler, for the sake of the common cause, do us a favor.”

“Well?” he said, squinting suspiciously at us as the idea penetrated that a favor is something you do for nothing—and dwarves don’t like to do anything for nothing.

“Put your arms round Harold.”

Deler’s face turned gray.

“What do you…? Kli-Kli, you’re a friend of mine, but … I could punch you in the face—”

“You fool, Deler! This is a dancing lesson.”

“A-a-ah!” the dwarf drawled as the light dawned, and he took off his bowler hat and ruffled up his ginger hair. “Then I’m too short for this; you need Honeycomb.”

“Honeycomb,” Kli-Kli growled, knitting his brows. “Honeycomb is such a great bear, he’ll flatten Harold’s feet.”

“Well, Arnkh then.”

“Arnkh?”

“Why not? I agree! This should be very amusing!” the bald warrior chuckled, getting up from the table.

Amusing? Somehow I didn’t share this old war dog’s passionate enthusiasm for launching into a dance.

“That’s just wonderful! Right then, Arnkh, put your arms round Harold. Put your hands on his waist. On his waist. You know what a waist is, don’t you? That’s it! Now Harold, why are you standing there like a statue? You do the same. Right! Your backs! Hold your backs straight. What kind of paralytics are you, may the orcs take me! That’s it! Now watch what you have to do.”

The goblin performed a short series of intricate and absolutely bizarre steps.

“All right?” he asked when he got his breath back.

“It reminds me of a Doralissian jumping around after someone tipped red-hot coals down his trousers,” said Hallas, expressing the general opinion.

The gnome’s final words were drowned in laughter.

“Why, you dolts! This is the most fashionable dance there is right now!” said Kli-Kli, trying to shout above the laughter.

The laughter turned into a loud roar.

The jester snorted in annoyance and turned his attention to me and Arnkh.

“Don’t just stand there as if you’re frozen solid. Do what I do. Follow the count!”

I felt like an absolute idiot.

“And … One-two-three, one-two-three! Make the steps more distinct! Three … Straighten that back! Two-three! Harold, don’t drag your foot! One-two-three!”

Arnkh crushed the toes on my right foot, and we almost fell down when Kli-Kli speeded up the rhythm.

Everybody just kept laughing. Lamplighter took out his reed pipe started playing a tune for us. Master Quidd came to see the free show. The elves came down into the hall. Then Alistan showed up. Our beloved count had a very pleased expression on his face. Well, naturally; it’s not every day that you see the likes of this.…

“One-two-three. Lift that foot higher. One-two-turn-three!” Kli-Kli just kept going, never falling silent for a moment. Arnkh stepped on my foot again, and I hissed in pain.

Finally it was over, and I caught my breath.

“Kli-Kli, why did you have to teach Harold to dance?” the elfess asked the goblin curiously. “After all, you know that Balistan Pargaid absolutely detests dancing, and there won’t be anything of the kind at the reception.”

“Ah, you—”

“Harold, I had to cheer you all up and raise the spirits of our troops!” the goblin whined, as if his feelings were hurt. “What are you so angry about?”

I controlled myself.

“Harold, you only have a quarter of an hour left to get changed,” Eel reminded me.

The warrior was already decked out in his costume. A real duke, I swear by the light! Thanks to Miralissa’s magic, his face had become less swarthy for the time being. His black hair had turned lighter, and now no one would ever have guessed that Eel was a Garrakian.

“Bah! Eel! We could crown you king of Garrak, dressed like that!” Honeycomb exclaimed admiringly.

Eel’s cheek twitched at those words.

“Kli-Kli, where are my clothes?”

The goblin peeped out warily from behind Bass, trying to assess his chances of living to a decent old age, then made up his mind and blurted out: “Let’s go, then.”

“Where are you going?” Bass asked casually.

Ell suddenly appeared in front of Snoop and offered to escort him to his room. He laughed, got up, and followed the elf. Kli-Kli led me back to our room. My clothes were laid out neatly on the made-up bed. I cast a skeptical eye over them, turned to the jester, and growled. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the goblin replied hastily. “What is it you don’t like this time?”

“Those aren’t clothes, they’re a peacock’s feathers!”

“All dukes are a bit like peacocks. These are perfectly normal clothes for noblemen. Not to mention dralans. Those lads like their outfits to be splendid.”

“Alistan doesn’t dress like that!”

“Alistan is the captain of the king’s guard, not a dralan who has been invited to a formal reception.”

“I’m not a dralan, and you know that perfectly well! And apart from that, I can’t even imagine how to put all this on!”

“We’ll soon manage that,” Kli-Kli declared boldly, and started rummaging through the expensive rags with his tongue hanging out.

When the goblin led me across to the mirror, I was struck dumb. I was wearing a blinding white silk shirt with narrow sleeves and a lacy collar, under a dark plum velvet doublet with gold buttons and a high collar. And on the right side of my chest there was a coat of arms skillfully embroidered in silver thread: a plow turning over the soil in a field.

The breeches were rather tight, and therefore not very comfortable. High boots with an embroidered design, a belt that was one-and-a-half hands wide, a dagger of singing steel in an expensive sheath, with a handle of bluish ogre-bone—this absurd finery was topped off with a long satin cloak with a black lining, three ruby rings, a wide-brimmed hat with a green plume, and a massive plaited gold chain. If I fell in a river wearing that chain, there was no way I would ever surface again. Eel’s costume was a lot richer than mine, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

I looked at Kli-Kli and he opened his mouth to share his impressions with me.

“Not a word!” I said, cutting him short.

“But I—”

“Shut up!”

“All right, Harold.” Kli-Kli submissively folded his little hands together like a priest of Silna.

To my mind I looked like a scarecrow in a vegetable garden. I could have gone off and started scaring crows straightaway. Clothes like this were definitely not for me.

“And how do you like my little outfit?” asked Kli-Kli, pulling off his cloak and spinning round on the spot.

The goblin had dressed himself up in something made out of scraps of blue and red and stuck a cap with little bells on his head.

“Colorful.”

“Then it’s just what’s required!”

When we walked down into the hall of the inn, strangely enough no one laughed at my outfit.

“May the gods be with us. Let’s go.” Miralissa caught my glance of surprise and explained. “I’m going with you; I have to check the house for magical traps.”

She had changed her usual gray and green elfin scout’s outfit for a very stylish purple silk dress with a black iron brooch shaped like the moon. Her invariable braid of ash-gray hair had been transformed into a tall hairstyle in the fashion of Miranueh, and round her neck she was wearing a string of smoky-yellow topazes, which harmonized beautifully with the color of her eyes. From a professional point of view I can say that a set of stones like that would buy five years of good living, spending money like water on daily sprees and drinking sessions … but if you looked at her with an unprofessional eye, she looked absolutely stunning.

“Take this,” she said, handing me the ogre bracelet. “When Balistan Pargaid asks Eel about the bracelet, you be there and give it to him.”

“What?” I asked in amazement.

“It’s no great loss, it has no value for us. But this is a chance to get close to the Key, if you can win our count’s favor.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I said with a frown. “Why should I have the bracelet, and not Eel?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“The carriage is ready, Lady Miralissa,” said the innkeeper, darting across to us.

“Thank you, Master Quidd,” the elfess said with a gracious smile. “You have been a great help to us.”

“Don’t mention it, I do it for my deceased uncle’s sake. You took revenge for his soul, and my entire family is indebted to you.”

“Remember, Harold,” the elfess told me as we walked to the magnificent carriage with a team of six Doralissian horses that Quidd had somehow managed to find, “we shall be in the house of a servant of the Master.”

I just had to hope that everyone at the reception was a bonehead and no servants of the Master happened to remember that a goblin left Avendoom in the company of elves.

We were hoping for a miracle, making a Vastar’s bargain with destiny. In the house of a servant of the Master. There was no need to remind me. I was only too aware of that.