The Thief's Gamble

Taken from:

The Duke of Marker's Daughter

A Tragedy in Five Acts by Awlimail Kespre

Act Two, Scene Three

The bedchamber of Suleta

[Enter Tisell.]

Suleta Tell me, tell me, does my father yet breathe?

Tisell Oh sweet mistress, he does, but one hears the rattle of Saedrin's keys in every breath he takes. The door to the Otherworld anil soon unlock to welcome that noble shade.

Suleta I cannot bear it!

TisellFor his sake, you must bear the burdens that fall so heavily on your slender shoulders.

Suleta Alas that I was ever born to such sorrow!

Tisell Curse not your birth, dearest child, but rather the faithless jade that has so besmirched her husband's bed!

Suleta Speak not so of the Queen's grace beyond these walls, Tisell, or I will not be able to save you from the lash.

Tisell I speak the truth as all men know it, my lady. Queen she may be, but trull she has proved herself and worse, she has dragged her children through the filth of the kennel with her.

Suleta Do not remind me of my cousins' grievous sufferings! The taunt of bastard will be no less cruel a lash than that which flogged their mother naked before the rabble.

Tisell You are all goodness, my chick, to think of others when you face such a choice.

Suleta What do you mean?

Tisell Has your lady mother not spoken with you? I had thought—

Suleta I have not seen her since they bore my father home—

[Enter Albrice, Duchess of Marlier.]

Tisell Your Grace [curtseying].

Albrice Leave us, I would be private with my daughter.

[Exit Tisell.]

Albrice Your father has not yet turned his face from this world but the surgeon tells me he will do so ere dawn. No, there is not yet time for tears, dearest child, we have not that luxury. In marrying for love, I set aside my rank as princess but with one brother dead at your father's hand and the other taken in adultery with that bitch, I am alone the living child of King Heric. Now I must answer the demands of blood and family. That blood flows pure in your veins alone, daughter, and whose sheets it stains upon your wedding night will decide the fate of this unhappy land. Their Graces of Parnilesse and Draximal have claims to the throne that would weigh equal in Raeponin's very scales. It is your hand that will tip that balance to one or the other.

Suleta I am to be portioned out like so much meat?

Albrice Speak not so saucy to me, lady! Have I raised you so wanting in wit?

Suleta Draximal is a vicious sot whom three wives have already fled in Poldrion's barque, while Parnilesse treads the lady's measure with his dancing masters nightly! You tell me I must wed one of these and say I want wit when I recoil? I tell you plainly, blood or not, royal in my veins or shed upon the thirsty soil, I will have none of this!

[Exit Suleta.]

East of Drede on the Eyhorne Road, 15th of For-Autumn

I did not expect to sleep but the next thing I knew Shiv was lifting me into the carriage and Geris was trying to arrange space for me between the baggage.

'It's all right.' I wriggled free of the cloak's folds. 'I can sit up front.'

Shiv smiled at me. 'Are you sure?'

I yawned. 'I can doze as we go, I've done it before. Ow!' The hard edge of a book dug me in the ribs and I yelped.

'What is it?' Geris looked around wildly.

'These.' I reached into my tunic and pulled out the books. 'I must have been tired to sleep on this lot!'

Shiv's eyes brightened as he saw the titles of the volumes but Darni reappeared as he was about to open the first one. He tucked them inside a linen sack and put them in this saddlebag.

'I've paid the reckoning, so let's be on our way. No one's seen Livak so let's keep it that way and leave everyone thinking we're the dyestuff traders we claim to be.'

That made sense of the locked coffers and setting a guard. I looked at Darni with the faint stirrings of respect; maybe he had hidden talents.

Geris drove off and I dozed. I can sleep anywhere as long as I feel safe, with the possible exception of the top of a carriers' coach, but this was no trouble since Geris was driving as if he had a cargo of eggs and the road was in good repair. By the time we stopped to rest the horses at noon, I was well refreshed and interested to see what the next stop on this deranged trip would be. I did not have long to wait.

We were not far short of the Eyhorne border when Darni led us off down a side road. We crested a rise to see a small knot of buildings beside a tree-fringed lake. The squat bulbous chimneys of kilns rose above the roofs of workshops and trailed plumes of dirty smoke into the blue sky.

'Darni!' A heavily built man in clay-stained shirt and breeches emerged from a low shed and waved to us. He turned and yelled across the water to a lad fishing from a low bough.

'Seyn, come here! My son will see to your horses,' he explained. 'Come on inside.'

He registered my presence and acknowledged me with a courteous nod. 'I'm Travor, welcome to my home.'

He helped Darni with the first coffer while Geris and Shiv took the second into the solid brick-built house at the centre of the cluster. I trailed on behind into a large kitchen where a pink-faced woman about my own age was kneading bread at a well-scrubbed table while a bevy of equally well-scrubbed children played around her feet on the tiled floor.

'Shiv!' Her pleasure at seeing him was obvious as she kissed him on the cheek, carefully holding her floury hands to one side. 'Hello Darni, and Geris, how are you?'

'Very well, thank you.'

'Geris!' The children swarmed round him and I saw there were five of them, ranging from a slender blonde miss who reached his waist to a determined crawler who seemed certain he could walk despite evidence to the contrary. One a year by the look of things, and from our hostess's thick waist I'd bet the potter had a firing in her kiln again. She wiped her hands on her apron.

'I'm Harna, you're very welcome.'

'Livak.' I offered my hand and she shook it.

'So, how long are you stopping?' She put the dough aside to rise under a clean cloth and turned to Darni.

'Tonight, then we'll be on our way.'

Shiv interrupted. 'We could do with a little longer, I think, Harna. Livak acquired us some books as well as the item, Darni. They could be very useful and I'd like Conall's opinion.'

Darni shot me the first sour look of the day. 'I see. We'll discuss it later,' he said in a tone which promised unpleasantness. He paused for a moment then stalked out into the yard.

Harna ignored him and looked at me more closely. 'You look tired, let me show you to your room. How about a bath?'

'That would be wonderful.' I followed her eagerly, leaving Geris sharing sugar-fruits out among the children and Shiv busying himself with bread and cold meat from the pantry.

'Everyone seems at home here,' I commented as we went up the narrow stairs.

Harna laughed. 'I've seen more of Darni in the last two seasons than I have in the last six years. I don't mind, it's for a good cause.'

I resisted the temptation to probe further.

'What are you doing with them?' She clearly had no such qualms.

'Oh, this and that.'

She nodded and let the matter drop.

'Here's your room.' Harna opened a low door into a small chamber tucked under the eaves. I breathed in the lavender scent of the spotless linen and nearly fell asleep on the spot.

'It's lovely, thank you.' It was too. The washstand had a jug and bowl of lustre ware that would have commanded top coin in Vanam, the walls were lime-washed a subtle pink and the small casement was framed by neat linen curtains.

'The bath's this way.' Harna showed me down another stair to a tiled room with a huge tub and a drain cunningly set into the floor.

'This is very fine,' I observed. She smiled.

'Travor likes to make things efficient. When you're bathing seven children, it can be like a ford on the Dalas in here.'

Seven? Drianon save me!

Travor entered with a huge kettle of steaming water. 'I'd say more like a storm on the Caladhrian Gulf myself.'

He poured the water into the tub and I looked at it greedily. 'Thank you. Are you sure I'm not taking too much hot water?'

Travor shook his head. 'The are kilns working today and I

built coppers beside them to use the heat. We can bathe you all and still have plenty over.'

He left and Harna reappeared with soft towels. 'Enjoy yourself,' she said as she closed the door.

I certainly did. There were bottles of scented oils on a shelf and I found some essence of Grassgild, one of my favourites. Soaking in the fragrant water and being able to wash my hair improved life enormously. When the water grew cool I dragged myself out reluctantly and dashed in a towel back to my chamber, where clean shirt and linen completed my transformation.

The house was quiet. I could hear the children playing somewhere off in the distance and a cart rumbled out of the yard. I stretched out on the goose-feather bed and reached into my scrip for the book I'd held back from Shiv. On the Lost Arts of Tormalin. Sounded promising, I thought.

I opened it and began to pick my way through the narrow script; it was not easy going. We all speak Tormalin in Ensaimin but it's the common tongue. This text was in the Old High dialect, the language that had held the Empire together. I frowned over the oddly accented words, trying to decipher the intonation marks over and above the lines. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. This was too hard so I contented myself with looking at the section headings: On Astronomy, On Mathematics, On Refining Ore, On Oculism, On Pharmacopoeia, On Oratory.

Not exactly intriguing. I'm not sure how soon I fell asleep but when I woke to a gentle knock on the door the sky outside the window was soft with the pink and orange of dusk.

'Livak? It's Harna. I'm just going to call them all in for dinner. Are you coming down?'

'Yes, thanks. I'll be with you in a moment.'

As I went down the stairs, I could hear Shiv and Darni in the kitchen. I waited to hear what they were saying.

'I don't like her making decisions on her own like that,' Darni was grumbling.

'Well she could hardly come and get our approval, could she? That old man was going to notice the thing had gone, wasn't he? Taking some of the books might just make the

Watch think it was a chance robbery, someone trying their luck. Recluses like that always get the reputation of being misers; I bet half the town reckon he sits on secret chests of Empire Marks. With any luck, they'll decide someone broke in and just grabbed the nearest things that might be valuable.'

'You think she thought that far ahead? Anyway, how many people in Drede would know the value of books like these?' Darni's tone was scornful.

'Who cares? She knew enough to realise these books could be useful and that's just with the half-tale Geris told her.'

'That's more than she needs to know anyway. She's a thief, remember, that's all we want her for.'

'I disagree.' Shiv's tone was calm but firm. 'She's good at stealing but she can think fast too. The more she knows, the more chance we have that she'll come up with something the rest of us might miss. Planir told us to use any means we could find.'

I grimaced in the gloom. Did I want to get any deeper into this? This was some wizards' chicanery after all. I caught a mental whiff of those hot coals I had started to forget. On the other hand, there was going to be money in this; half the value of that ink-horn would make a tidy pile of coin for a start. Information always had value too.

Darni started to speak but the opening door and a riot of children interrupted him. I stamped on the spot for a few paces then made my way loudly down the remaining stairs and joined them.

The meal was excellent and plentiful. Harna clearly had a lot of practice since, as well as our party and their seven children, she was feeding two other men, whom I gathered were Travor's journeymen in the potteries. If Ostrin ever decides to disguise himself as a mortal and go around testing hospitality like the legends say he used to, Harna won't have anything to worry about, other than the possibility of a permanent divine houseguest. The journeymen ate, thanked her and left for their own quarters, and Harna started threatening the children with bed.

'Please can we see Geris do some tricks?' the oldest girl pleaded, blue eyes wide open in appeal.

'I'd be happy to,' Geris offered.

Harna smiled. 'Just a few.' She began to clear the table while Geris proved remarkably competent at sliding coins round his fingers and making them appear out of the baby's ears. I resisted the temptation to join in and turned to Shiv.

'Are you sure those two won't gossip about their master's strange visitors over their ale?' I gestured to the door after the journeymen. 'Harna said you've been here a lot since Spring Equinox.'

Shiv shook his head as he took a long drink of Travor's excellent mead. 'They won't talk.'

'Can you be certain?' I didn't even attempt to conceal my scepticism.

'Absolutely.' There was no doubt in his voice.

Rather to my surprise, my instincts told me to trust him.

'Shiv, Shiv, can you do us an illusion?'

I stared at the boy who was asking and choked on my mead.

'Harna?'

'Oh, all right.' Harna smiled and filled a large flat bowl with water. Shiv rubbed his hands together and green magelight gathered round his fingers. My eyes must have been as round as any of the children's as I watched a pond appear, grassy banks, reeds round the fringe, lilies dotting the surface.

'Do ducks, do ducks,' one of the little ones begged. Shiv obliged with an improbably yellow bird with a tail of ducklings following her. The image nickered suddenly and the ducklings began hiding in the reeds and leaves, the mother trying in vain to round them up again.

Shiv suddenly burst out laughing. 'Harna!' he protested. I looked up to see green light flickering in her hands and amusement in her eyes.

Shiv got the ducks under control again. 'Right, that's enough. Bedtime for you lot.'

The children obeyed with remarkably little protest. Well, the trick with the ducks certainly left tales of the Eldritch

Kin looking pretty dusty as bedtime entertainment. Harna and Geris chivvied them upstairs and Darni and Shiv went out for a last check on the horses. I wondered in passing where the chests had disappeared to.

'Come into the study.' Travor rose and led me to a neatly furnished room next door. He lit the fire, laid ready and waiting, and then opened a polished cabinet and offered me a delicate ceramic cup.

'Wine? It's heathberry, we make it ourselves. Or there's some juniper liquor, or more mead.'

I've had some bad experiences with fruit wines. 'Juniper, please.'

He poured me the hefty sort of measure you only get from someone who doesn't drink the stuff himself then stole a sideways glance at a desk where a large slate lay covered in neat diagrams.

'Are you working on something? Don't let me stop you if you want to carry on with it.'

'If you don't mind.' He sat as he spoke, relieved to abandon social niceties.

'What is it?' I peered at the drawing but could make no sense of it.

'There's a new way of smelting being developed in Gidesta; the Mountain Men have come up with something called a blast furnace.' He frowned at some calculations, wiped a patch of his slate clean and started afresh.

I peered over his shoulder. 'Is Harna a mage then?' The liquor had me speaking before my brain caught up with my mouth.

'That's right.' Travor seemed unconcerned.

'So…' I could not think how to frame my next question.

He looked up and a grin relaxed his square, rather harsh features. 'So how does she come to be married to a potter in the arse-end of nowhere?' Clearly a question he was used to.

I laughed. 'Something like that.'

He shrugged and returned to his mathematics. 'She has the talents but what she really wants out of life is a good marriage, a happy home and lots of children. We met when she was travelling with another mage, we stayed in touch and when she fell for Seyn, we got married.'

I drank my juniper; it was quite beyond me.

A sudden commotion of dogs outside made Travor look up. 'I'd better go and see to the hounds.'

As he left, Shiv reappeared. 'Any problem?' I asked.

'A fox or something sniffing round the ducks.' Shiv poured himself a small measure of barley spirits and sat down with a sigh.

'So, how long are we going to be here?'

'I've sent a message to a chap called Conall who lives over in Eyhorne. He's been working with some of the early records from Hadrumal and I'd like him to take a look at those books you found. That was good thinking.'

'If you tell me what's really going on, I might be able to pick up more useful things,' I said casually. 'Unless Darni won't let you.'

Shiv laughed and ignored the bait. 'We'll probably be here for a couple of days, so make the most of the rest. We'll be heading into Dalasor next so it'll be camping and cooking on open fires not feather beds and clean linen.'

'I thought all Dalasor had to offer was grass, sheep and cattle.'

'Have you never been there?'

'I make a living gambling and moving on, Shiv.' I refilled my glass. 'There's not a lot of use me getting into a game where the minimum stake is ten goats.'

Shiv laughed again and took a sip of his drink. I looked at him in the soft lamplight and felt a warm quiver. He was quite handsome really, even allowing for the not inconsiderable glow I was feeling from the mead. I crossed the room and joined him on the settle by the fire.

'Harna was saying she's seen a lot of you since Spring Equinox. That's a long time to be away from home.'

Shiv stretched out and closed his eyes. 'It is,' he agreed, 'but Pered's very understanding.'

I blinked. 'Pered?'

A faint, fond smile curled round Shiv's lips. 'My lover. He's an illuminator for a copyist in Hadrumal. We've been together for six years now, so he's used to my being away.'

I took another drink to cover my confusion and sought wildly for a way of turning the conversation. At least I hadn't made a fool of myself.

'You're not from Hadrumal originally though, are you? Your accent's nothing like Darni's but I can't place it.'

'No, I'm from western Caladhria, the fens beyond Kevil.'

I remembered something Halice once told me; where everyone else tells jokes about Caladhrians, Caladhrians tell jokes about Kevilmen.

'Drianon! You must really have been a fish up a tree there!' My mouth was definitely running away with my brain tonight; I put down my goblet.

'What do you mean? Because I'm a mage or because I'm…' Shiv opened his eyes and gave me a wicked grin. 'How does a lady put it in Vanam nowadays? One who scents his handkerchiefs? A man who doesn't cross the dance floor? Or do you favour the more literal descriptions? Rump-rustler? Sack-arse?' he said with relish and a flash of his eyes.

Well if he wasn't bothered, why should I be? 'Both, I suppose.'

'Oh, Caladhria's not as backward as you people think.'

'Come off it,' I scoffed. 'Half the Caladhrian houses I've been to don't even have chimneys. How many people in your village used oil-lamps?'

'Rush-lights work perfectly well. Why should they change?' His serious tone nearly fooled me but I saw the glint in his eye. 'But you're right; my family did not know what to do with me. There was no unpleasantness, I just felt like a pig in a cowshed. My uncle had a cousin whose wife was able to recommend me to a mage in Kevil and he sent me off to Hadrumal.' Shiv's eyes looked inward. 'That was fifteen years ago, half a lifetime.'

I'd forgotten Caladhria was like that; if your grandmother knew a man whose brother's sons had once sold your cousin a horse, you're as good as related. It makes for a difficult place to work my sort of business but it has its good points; I've never seen children begging on the streets there. A memory struck me.

'Why've you been chatting up every serving-girl we've met, if you're — er — otherwise inclined?'

'They tend to expect it and a friendly girl can tell you useful things.'

That was fair comment; I've batted my eyelashes at enough men I've no intention of touching let alone anything more.

'Can you imagine Geris trying to spread a little charm around? Or Darni?'

I laughed at the picture. 'What about Darni? Just what is his problem? Does he have any family?'

'Oh yes. He's married to an alchemist who came to do some work for the wizards who specialise in fire magic.'

There was little to say to that. 'Oh.'

'They had their first child just after Winter Solstice and I think Darni's not too happy to be doing so much travelling at the moment.' Shiv's tone was sympathetic.

I sniffed. 'No need for him to take it out on the rest of us. So do you know Harna because she's a mage then? Is that why you stay here?'

'That, and she's Darni's cousin.'

'Isn't that awkward? I mean, if Darni couldn't be a real mage and she's…'

Shiv shook his head. 'There was a time when Darni would have given his stones for half Harna's talent, but he's moved on. Meeting Strell helped him realise there's a lot more out there than magic.'

He yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair. 'I'm for my bed. See you in the morning.'

I wondered about going up too but with my afternoon's sleep I wasn't really tired. I went to look at Travor's slate and was absorbed in trying to follow his calculations when the door opened. I jumped.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.' Geris looked apologetic.

'Never mind.' I stared in fascination at the drawing of Travor's furnace. 'Have you seen this?'

'What? Oh, yes, it's very interesting, don't you think?'

I looked up; for someone who seemed to gather any stray scrap of useless information, Geris did not sound very keen. He was standing awkwardly by the fire.

'Everything all right?' I was curious.

'Oh yes.' Geris helped himself to a large measure of the wine and blinked a little as he drank it down. It apparently gave him the courage he was seeking. 'I really wasn't sure you'd be able to get that ink-horn, you know.'

'I'm very good at what I do.' I heard an unexpected edge in my voice.

'No, I didn't mean I thought you… that is, I thought it would be impossible for anyone.' There was no mistaking his wide-eyed admiration and I hid a smile under my gambling face.

'Oh?'

'Do tell me about it,' he urged.

Maybe this was my chance to feature in one of Judal's plays, if only at second hand. 'All right.' I smiled at him and we sat on the settle.

'Well, we went to look at the house first, and then we went for an ale…' I may have exaggerated the difficulties a little and I don't suppose Darni featured much in the tale but Geris' appealing face was hard to resist.

'I think you did marvellously,' he breathed as I wound up my somewhat colourful yarn. 'We can't thank you enough.'

'Sure. You're the only one who's thanked me at all.' The realisation hit me harder than I had expected and a tremor in my voice surprised me.

'No, we're all grateful.' Geris sounded quite distressed. 'When Shiv said he couldn't get to the piece, we thought we'd have to go back without it. Darni was furious.'

'And then I walked in and solved all your problems,' I snorted. 'Darni could show a little more gratitude.'

'I'll speak to him about it,' Geris said firmly and I could not help laughing.

'Don't worry about it, I've met his type before.'

'Have you?' Geris looked eager for more tales and I obliged, flattered by his interest and enjoying the chance to boast of some of my more spectacular successes.

I wasn't too surprised when he put a friendly arm around my shoulders as I was explaining Charoleia's latest plan to separate the Relshazri authorities from some of their revenues; I snuggled encouragingly into his side. I was quite happy to let him kiss me as we compared notes on the various ale-houses in Vanam; his breath was sweet with the wine and his lips firm and dry. I don't think he had expected to end up in his bed quite so soon, nicely brought-up boy that he was, but I had been sleeping alone for quite a while and I decided I'd passed too many solitary nights. It did cross my mind that, the last time I'd mixed business and pleasure, there had been tears all round but Geris's delicate hands and eager kisses soon saw off my reservations.

He may have been naive in some ways but there had been a few lucky girls back in Vanam, if I am any judge. He was a good lover, new enough to the pastime still to treat it with an awe I found quite touching, but experienced enough to know that pleasure shared is pleasure doubled. He was sensitive and responsive, and even did his best not to just roll over and fall asleep when we were done.

'Go to sleep.' I brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead and kissed him. He tucked the crisp linen around me as we nested together like spoons. I drifted off to sleep with his soft breathing in my hair.

Hanchet Marketplace 15th of For-Autumn

Hold it, you beauty.' Casuel gritted his teeth as he hauled on the reins. The sudden shock of cobbles underfoot helped, and the horse skidded to an uncertain halt, snorting its disapproval.

'That's better.' Casuel applied the gig's brake and looked around the marketplace for the principal inn. He pursed his lips in surprised approval. 'This is an improvement on what I had imagined. And we made good time too,' he commented to Allin good-humouredly.

'This is much more comfortable than travelling by carriers' coach.' The last stage in an open carriage had given her pasty cheeks an attractive colour for a change.

Casuel glanced round, hesitating about which way to take; the tail-end of the day's market was still cluttering up what passed for a town square.

'Clear the road, mester!'

The horse shied as some peasant waved an irritated staff in their direction and Casuel was about to tell the oaf what he thought of him when he realised he had stopped, in fact, directly in front of the water-trough. He clicked his tongue and slapped the reins on the horse's rump, looking disdainfully over the head of the impatient fanners waiting to water their beasts before setting out for home. He lurched before he remembered to loosen the brake so that they could move off.

An urchin spoke up hopefully from somewhere near Casuel's knee.

'What did you say?' This mangled dialect was even thicker in these hamlets off the main coach routes, he realised with a shock.

'Hold your horse for a copper quarter, sir?'

Casuel narrowed his eyes at the lad but after a moment reached into his pocket for the coin. This was hardly Col, after all. He held up a whole penny and the youth's eyes brightened.

'Where can we get rooms and stabling for the night?'

'Over yonder at the Stag Hound.' The urchin bobbed an attempt at a bow. 'Follow me.'

Casuel directed the horse awkwardly through the bustle. 'You see, I don't have much need to drive in Hadrumal,' he explained to Allin, but she was too busy looking round. The inn yard was busy, but the sight of such a well-dressed driver soon brought an ostler to the gig's side.

'We require accommodation and livery for the night.' Casuel reached round for their bags and handed them down. 'Take these and bespeak us two chambers.'

'I can see to it, sir.' The groom clutched Allin's tattered valise to his chest, looking a little startled.

Casuel descended and grimaced as shoulder muscles unused to the demands of driving protested. He looked at the crowd growing around the water-trough and beckoned to the urchin.

'Walk the horse till he's good and cool, water him, and then bring him back here, and the penny's yours when I leave in the morning.'

Stalking a little stiffly into the inn, Casuel was satisfied he had cowed the child into obedience. Allin scrambled down awkwardly in a confusion of petticoats and followed, bumping into Casuel as he halted, taken aback to find the bar counter three deep in thirsty peasants. He hovered uncertainly for a few moments then gritted his teeth. His future could depend on what he learned here, he told himself.

'Excuse me. By your leave.' Politeness was going to get him nowhere, he realised, as an elbow caught him agonisingly in the ribs and a burly farmer shoved past him to reach for an ale.

'Service!' His unfamiliar accent rang out over the hum of the busy tap-room and he fought a blush as the suddenly silent throng stared at him.

'I would like a jug of ale, if you please.' Casuel shook the dust from the folds of his caped cloak and coughed to cover his embarrassment.

The buzz of conversation resumed around him and the innkeeper shoved a jug and cups across the bar. Casuel took a seat at the end of the counter and looked suspiciously at the oily surface of the brew. Allin examined it dubiously.

'I know. I'd have preferred wine but there's no point even asking outside the larger towns in Ensaimin.' Casuel heaved a sigh of homesickness for his neat rooms in Hadrumal or better yet, his parents' well-ordered house.

'Excuse me.' He caught at the sleeve of a maid hurrying past with a tray of bowls.

'You can order food at the kitchen door.' She tried to shake her arm free without losing her load, not even turning her head towards him.

'No, I'm looking for someone,' Casuel began.

'Try the wash-house next door,' the maid snapped, twitching her elbow out of his reach.

Casuel sipped his drink and immediately regretted it. The barkeeper was at the far end of the counter and there was no sign of the pace of business slowing.

'I'd say we've got a rat in a dog-pit's chance of managing a quiet conversation here,' he muttered to Allin.

She nodded, momentarily silenced as thirst overcame caution and she tried the ale. She screwed up her eyes and coughed.

'Do you think they might have some milk?' She blinked.

'Not drinking?' A sour smell assaulted Casuel's nostrils and he turned to see a creased and dirty little man hovering by the yard door, eyes darting from side to side.

'Not this swill,' Casuel grimaced.

The ragged man's eyes brightened and he reached for the jug.

'Not so fast.' Casuel lifted it out of reach for a moment. 'I'm trying to find someone…'

'Wash-house next door,' the old vagrant said promptly, eyes still fixed on the jug.

'What's so special about this wash-house?' Allin wondered in an undertone.

Casuel shook his head, exasperated. 'We might as well go and find out. We'll get nothing here but a night in the privy.'

He caught the barkeeper's eye and dropped some coppers on the counter, only too happy to abandon the ale to the gleeful vagabond and to leave the heaving tavern. He stood on the step and took a long breath of fresh air. Allin squeaked behind him and squeezed her way under his arm, rubbing her rear.

'Where do you suppose this wash-house is, then?'

'There's steam coming from those shutters.' Allin pointed across an alley.

'Come on. I suppose the washerwomen will know who lives where. Women always know that sort of thing, don't they? My mother generally knows the life history of anyone moving into the square before they've even unpacked their trunks.'

Allin smiled uncertainly. Casuel led the way but then hovered uncertainly by the door as he heard giggles from inside. He'd never really been at ease with women, especially not when they gathered together. He looked at Allin; perhaps she could do the talking. No, perhaps not.

Casuel squared his shoulders and went inside. He nearly stepped straight out again when he found himself facing a girl wearing an extremely low bodice over little more than a shift. She greeted him with a very frank smile.

'Can I help you?' A woman of about his mother's age looked up from a wash tub.

'I'm looking for some information.' Casuel tried to ignore the sweat beading on his forehead. Of course, it was bound to be hot in a wash-house. Obviously women working here would wear light clothing.

A smile twitched the corners of the matron's mouth. 'What kind of information would that be?'

Casuel removed his cloak, fearing sweat stains in his coat, and loosened the neck of his shirt. 'I'm trying to find a man who was once chamberlain to Lord Armile of Friern.'

'That'd be Teren, I'd say.' The speaker was a blowsy type with hard eyes and improbably russet hair loose around her shoulders. She looked past Casuel at Allin and a faint frown wrinkled her brow.

'Can you tell me where I might find him, madam?' Casuel asked with stiff politeness, gratified that this was proving so easy.

The redhead exchanged a rapid glance with the washerwoman. After a still moment, she looked at Casuel, amused. 'You know the track to the Dalasor high road?'

'I can find it,' Casuel said confidently.

'Cross the bridge beyond the coppices, carry on till the third ride on the left, there's a shrine to Poldrion next to a red-oak.'

'I'll find him there?' Casuel was puzzled.

'Fifth niche on the right, middle shelf.' The redhead laughed heartily and took a drink from a leather flask she'd been holding among the folds of her skirts. She smiled warmly at Allin.

'I'm sorry but he's dead and burned, two and a half seasons gone.' The washerwoman gave her linens a half-hearted stir with a copper stick.

Casuel nearly turned on his heel, outraged to be the butt of such tasteless humour for such women.

'It's no joke for his poor wife.' The lass with the loosely laced bodice emerged from a back room with a basket of bread and cheese which she shared around, offering some to Allin after giving her a long, considering look. 'Come in, girl, no need to wear out the step.'

A flash of inspiration struck Casuel. 'He has left a widow?'

The woman with the flask looked serious for a change. 'Poor bitch, her with five to bring up and no family closer than a three-day walk.'

'It's hard to be so far from your own at such a time.' The washerwoman's tone was sympathetic and she sighed as she chewed on her bread.

'If I cannot do business with her husband, I can at least do what I can for the poor unfortunates he has left behind,' Casuel announced loftily. 'Charity is the duty of all Rational men.'

The redhead muttered something which he didn't catch, what with her mouth full and her dialect suddenly thicker than before. The washerwoman nodded and her expression was thoughtful. Casuel ignored this irrelevance.

'Where would I find this lady?'

'You might catch her at the buttercross about now,' the younger lass volunteered, after checking for a nod from the redhead. 'She sells cheese for Mistress Dowling most days.'

Casuel nodded his thanks graciously. A thought struck him. 'How much would it cost for you to brush and sponge my cloak?'

The women exchanged a glance and the redhead suddenly hid her face in her apron with a sudden fit of coughing. The washerwoman's smile quirked again but she managed to reply civilly enough.

'Four pennies should see to it, your honour.' She smiled at Allin. 'You look like you could do with a freshening, lassie. Why not wait here while his honour's busy?'

'That would be nice.' Allin hesitated, clutching her shawl to herself.

'I'll call later.' Casuel handed over the garment and left, a little bemused by the burst of laughter he heard behind him.

He had no time to waste on the odd behaviour of laundresses, he chided himself. The market square was nearly empty now, the last few wagons either heading out along the tracks to the farms or waiting, canvases laced down, for their owners to quit the taverns which were now bright with lanterns and ringing with noise. With some distaste he picked his way between the straw, dung and fallen vegetables that littered the cobbles, heading for the neat thatched roof of the buttercross. He quickened his step as he saw several women packing up their baskets and leaving the broad stone steps to a few foraging thatch-birds.

'Excuse me, ladies.' He bowed formally and the women halted in startled surprise.

'I am looking for the Widow Teren.' He tried for a winning smile.

'Why's that, then?' one asked cautiously.

'I had business with her late husband.' Casuel decided a masterful approach was called for, since charm seemed to have little effect round here.

The women spent a long moment exchanging glances which conveyed nothing to Casuel. One of them looked round the square and the people going about their business; she nodded to her companion.

'She's with her children, round the far side.'

'Brown dress with a blue apron,' the second added. The two of them moved away, crossing over to the well where they stood in apparently idle conversation, empty baskets swinging loosely on their arms.

The widow was not hard to find as Casuel walked briskly round the buttercross. She was about his own age, thin face tired as she packed her panniers with some heels of bread and vegetables that Casuel's mother would have rejected as unfit for her pigs.

'Just sit down and stop Miri rampaging around, will you?' she snapped at a ragged little boy who was chasing pigeons with his younger sister. The child opened his mouth to protest, wisely thought better of it and grabbed the girl by her tattered skirt, plumping down his skinny behind on the lowest step.

'Shouldn't those children be in bed?' Casuel frowned, looking at the length of the shadows.

'What's it to you?' The woman did not snap at him. She simply sounded defeated, not even looking at him, pushing ineffectually at wisps of hair escaping her headscarf as she tied the little girl's apron strings.

'I'm sorry, let me introduce myself.' Casuel bowed low. 'I am Casuel Devoir. I understand you are the Widow Teren?'

'Pleased to meet you, I'm sure,' the widow replied, standing and looking at him, bemused. The children simply stared at him, mouths open.

'I had been hoping to see your husband…' Casuel halted at the sight of the numb pain on the three faces before him. 'I heard of your loss,' he went on hurriedly, 'and was hoping I might be able to assist you somehow.'

A spark of life returned to the woman's dark eyes. 'Drianon knows we could do with some help. Here.' She passed a frayed basket to Casuel and slung the yoke of her panniers over her shoulders. 'Like you said, this pair should be in bed. Walk me home and we can talk there.'

Casuel opened his mouth to protest but shut it again. He had to have that information, he told himself. If it was important to Darni, it was doubly so to him. He walked after the woman and children, awkwardly trying to hold the basket to prevent the sharp spikes of wicker damaging his clothing. To his relief, the widow soon turned down a narrow entry and knocked on the door of a neat row-house. An older child with a squalling infant in her arms opened up, using her foot to foil a determined toddler's attempt at escape.

'Get your supper and take it in the back.' The widow settled herself on a low settle near the fire and opened her bodice. The children obediently filled bowls with thick soup and helped themselves to the coarse bread, filing out through the narrow door.

'I beg your pardon, I'll wait outside while you nurse your child.' Casuel turned to go, scarlet as the baby suckled with evident enjoyment and no little noise.

'I've my family to see to and I've been up since before dawn.' The widow's voice was uncompromising. 'This is the only time I get to sit down, so talk to me now or leave.'

Casuel cleared his throat and concentrated on staring into the meagre fire.

'I understand your husband used to be in the household of Lord Armile.'

'That's right. What's it to you?'

'I am interested in doing business with his lordship, I deal in books and manuscripts. Do you happen to remember your husband ever talking about the library at Friern Lodge?'

He turned his head despite himself at hearing the widow's tired laugh.

'It was me did the telling to him, what with me dusting the cursed place every other day.'

'You were a servant too?'

'Upper housemaid, until my lord decided to turn us both out for daring to wed without his permission.' Venom thickened the woman's voice and she blinked away tears as she hushed her startled baby.

Casuel did not know what to say. Women were enough of a mystery and crying women were completely beyond him. To his intense relief, the woman shook her head after a moment and sniffed.

'What do you want to know?' she asked.

'I'm interested in works dealing with the fall of the Tormalin Empire. Do you know what I'm talking about? Do you recall anyone perhaps mentioning any books on that subject?'

The widow lifted the child, laid it over her shoulder until it belched loudly and settled it to the other breast, her face thoughtful. She reached up and unknotted her head scarf, shaking loose fine dark hair sprinkled with white at the crown. 'I think we'd get on a lot better if you stopped treating me like some lackwit, Messire whatever your name was,' she said tartly at last. 'I'd read a good number of those books myself before we were turned out, so I should imagine I can tell you what you need to know. Before I do, I'd like to know why you want to know and what that might be worth to you.'

Casuel hesitated, not wishing to antagonise such an unexpected source of information, but struggling for a reply. He opted reluctantly for as much of the truth as he dared. 'I have a customer interested in literature dealing with that period of history. If Lord Armile has any such, I could then approach him and see if he might be interested in selling. Do you remember any titles, names of authors?'

'Hoping he doesn't know the value of what he has and working your way round to it like an afterthought.' There was a hint of laughter as well as a sharp edge in the widow's voice. 'Not so honest, are you, for all your fancy graces? Not that I mind. I'll serve his lordship an ill turn if I can and glad to, Drianon rot his stones.'

Casuel opened his mouth to defend his honour then shut it again. 'What can you tell me?' He took a waxed note-tablet from a pocket.

'Let's agree a price,' the woman countered, fixing him with a stern eye that made Casuel feel about five years old. 'I want to take my children back to my own village. I need carriers' fare and the price of a cart for our belongings.'

'Will five Marks cover it? Tormalin?' Casuel reached for his money pouch.

The widow blinked. 'That would do handsomely.'

She kissed her sleeping baby's fluffy head and laid the child in a wicker crib, then to Casuel's profound relief laced her bodice, looking up at him with a smile teasing her lips. 'Bargaining prices for books not the same as haggling for horses then, is it?'

Casuel made a half-bow. 'I can drive as hard a bargain as any man, madam; my father is a pepper merchant and taught me his trade well. However he is a man of honour and has also taught me that one should offer charity, not seek advantage, when encountering widows and orphans.'

Besides, the money would put some decent clothes on their backs so the widow needn't present her family to her relations as beggars, he thought with some satisfaction.

'And you don't get drunk on holy days and you remember your mother at every shrine to Drianon, I take it.' There was more humour than irony in her voice now. 'Let me get the children to bed and then I'll tell you what I know. All I ask is you stitch that bastard up tighter than a festival fowl's arse.'

She looked at the pot over the fire and bit her lip. 'You'd better step out for something to eat; we've nothing to spare, I'm sorry.'

The third chime of the night was sounding before Casuel finally made his way back to the marketplace and the inn, elation filling him as he strode along, despite the repeating taste of a pie which he now suspected had contained horsemeat. A breeze blew a gust of warm soapy air across his path.

'Allin!' he exclaimed, remembering her with a guilty start. 'No matter; she can't have come to much grief in a wash-house.'

Nevertheless he quickened his step but was held up by a man at the door, whom it appeared, having drunk rather too much, had inexplicably decided this was the time to dispute the cost of his laundry.

'Excuse me.' Casuel pushed past to see Allin deep in conversation with the washerwoman.

'If he's taking advantage, you can stay here. Just to do the linens, nothing more. We'll look after you.'

'Evening, your honour.' The redhead greeted him loudly and stepped into his path, his cloak over her arm.

Allin scrambled to her feet, cheeks red, her hair freshly dressed with ringlets coiling in the damp air.

'Are you ready?' Casuel enquired curtly, taking his cloak and handing over a Mark. 'I think we should return to the inn. I want to make an early start tomorrow.'

The washerwoman gave Allin a rough kiss of farewell. 'You know where we are, dear.'

Casuel tutted impatiently as Allin tied her shawl about her.

'Did you find the widow?' she enquired as they picked their way back to the inn through the dim moonlight.

'I did.' His good humour returned. 'You know, this should be quite straightforward. According to her, Lord Armile barely knows what he's got on his shelves. He simply inherited the collection along with the title. I think I should find something to impress Usara, and perhaps even Planir.'

Almost as satisfying, an extra Mark had persuaded the widow to deny all knowledge of the library should anyone else come enquiring, Darni or Shiv, for instance. Casuel decided not to burden Allin with that detail.

He strode into the inn and halted on the threshold, surprised to see it as busy as before.

'Excuse me, I bespoke a room earlier.' He held up a hand to intercept the maidservant, her hair now coming loose from its pins and her apron stained with ale and food.

'Yon's the door to the stairs. Find one of the maids up there to bother.' She brushed past him, sweeping up a handful of flagons from a table as she went.

'Excuse me—' Casuel began indignantly but the girl was gone.

'Come on,' he snapped at Allin crossly and pushed through the carousing farmers to the stairs. Once upstairs he was none too pleased to find his bag shoved under a bed in a room crowded with nine others.

He went into the narrow corridor and beckoned a harassed maid with an armful of well-worn blankets.

'That's right, your honour. You in there and the lady in the women's room upstairs.'

'We bespoke two chambers,' he began indignantly.

'There's none to be had on a market day.' The woman made to push past him, annoyed when Casuel prevented her. 'There's no use kicking up about it. If you don't want the bed, I can let it five times over.'

Casuel coloured at her tone. 'Oh all right then.'

He escorted Allin up to the long garret above, relieved to find a group of clean, decently dressed farmwives already there. He returned to his own bed and dragged out his travelling bag, deciding to make some notes before he settled down.

Casuel drew a shocked breath, his grievance at the petty annoyances of the inn evaporating.

'Raeponin pox the lot of them!'

Someone had been going through his things! He shuddered with distaste at the thought of grubby sneak-thieves pawing through his linen, however slight the disturbance. He checked his various volumes, laying them on the bed, and reached down to the bottom of the bag for his packet of papers and letters. It was still sealed with his own signet but as he brought his candle closer Casuel could see the tell-tale smudges where the wax had been lifted off with a hot knife blade. He cracked the seal and sorted through his notes, hands shaking with indignation.

'Greetings.'

Casuel turned, surprised to be addressed in oddly formal Tormalin. A blond man in neat travelling clothes had taken the bed next to him.

'Good evening,' he replied curtly.

'You're a long way from home.' The stranger shook out his blankets and smiled.

What business was that of this undersized fellow? 'I travel in the course of my trade,' Casuel replied repressively.

'You deal in books, I see?' The blond man's eyes were blue and cold, despite the warmth of his smile.

'Among other things.' This curious character could answer a few questions himself, thought Casuel. 'I don't recognise your accent, where do you hail from?'

'I have travelled from Mandarkin.' The man's smile broadened. 'I find it much warmer here.'

If you're Mandarkin-born, I'm an Aldabreshi, Casuel thought. That lie might satisfy peasants who've never travelled more than ten leagues from their homes, but he had met several Mandarkin in Hadrumal and this man's accent was nothing like theirs. Something was not quite right here.

He yawned ostentatiously. 'Excuse me, I'm for my bed.'

Casuel took off his boots and breeches and got beneath the soft blankets, promising himself a thorough bathe and complete change of linen when he returned to a civilised hostelry.

'Raeponin only knows how anyone's supposed to sleep with that row going on,' he muttered to himself as the hubbub from the tap-room continued unabated.

Men in various states of drunkenness and undress began entering the room and Casuel huddled under his blankets in an attempt to isolate himself from the unsavoury gathering. The room gradually quietened, the thick darkness broken only by intermittent snores, usually interrupted by a kick from a neighbouring bed.

Surprisingly, it seemed Casuel had barely closed his eyes before the morning light was streaming through the shutters and the maid was hammering on the door to announce breakfast. He dragged himself reluctantly from the blankets, temples pounding and eyes gritty, unrefreshed after a night of unexpected and peculiar dreams. Conversations with Usara, other people he knew in Hadrumal, that scrying he'd done of Ralsere and Darni, all manner of inconsequential nonsense and memories had jumbled together, rolling over and around in his sleeping mind.

Allin soon gave up trying to engage him in conversation over breakfast and they departed shortly after in gloomy silence.

Travor's Pottery, the Drede Road, West of Eyhorne, 16th of For-Autumn

I woke early, a little cramped, but I'm not complaining. Geris was still deeply asleep so I dropped a kiss on his tousled head and slipped out. Cold water soon had me fully awake and I began to hear movement in the rest of the house. I reached under my pillow for the book; I didn't fancy explaining why I'd held on to it. I wondered where Shiv's room was; if I could put it with the others, I felt sure he would not say a thing.

A heavy tread passed my door and I opened it a crack to see Darni's back heading for the staircase.

'So what are you doing about Conall? Do you know when he's coming?'

I couldn't hear the reply but it was clear he was talking to Shiv further down the stairs. I closed the door silently behind me and tried the next room along. It had Darni's kit in it so I moved on. Shiv's room not only had the books on the dresser but also the mysterious coffers at the end of the bed. I sniffed and rubbed a hand over my mouth.

Curiosity got Amit hanged. My mother had told me that jolly little tale for children often enough but it had never seemed to take. Caution, however, was a lesson I had learned. This was one time in my life when I wished briefly I did know more about wizards. Would Shiv have some magic woven around these boxes that would have him charging back up the stairs if I so much as touched them? Had Darni been standing guard at the inn to protect the boxes, or was that just a subterfuge to explain his presence in the yard as he waited for me?

My palms itched and I fingered my lockpicks. Saedrin's stones; what did I have to lose? It wasn't as if I was going to take anything and even if Shiv did find out and threw me out of this masquerade, which I somehow doubted, I was no worse off than I had been the day before last. He would not renege on the deal over the ink-horn and half the value of that would see me happily on a coach to Col. Sorgrad and Sorgren would be there by now and I could work with them.

I closed the door and settled myself to work on the nearest lock. It was a good piece but nothing I could not handle and I soon had it free of the hasp. I raised the lid of the coffer; it was full of neat velvet-wrapped bundles. I reached in for a handful and unrolled a couple. I let out a slow breath of mystification. There were certainly some valuable pieces in there, rings and necklaces of old gold with gems cut ten generations out of fashion, but they sat next to trinkets you could pick up for a couple of Marks: a little crystal jar with a silver lid, a chatelaine's waist-chain with keys, scissors and pomander, a needle case for the obsessed embroiderer. There were a couple of daggers, but while one was decorated with filigree and gems to an extent which made it unwieldy, the other was a plain and serviceable knife that you'd use to cut your meat and bread. Strangest of all was a broken sword. The shards of blade were lost but the deer-horn handle was as carefully wrapped as the priceless bracelet next to it. Tales of lost swords proving rights to kingship and broken blades reforged are the stuff of Lescari romances — and Lescari politics come to that — but I could not see Shiv falling for that kind of nonsense.

High-pitched voices and running feet went hammering past the door and I hurriedly replaced everything and locked up the box. The children seemed to have descended on Geris so I was able to slip downstairs under cover of the commotion. Breakfast was a chaotic meal with people coming in and out so it was a while before I realised we had been joined by a grey-haired old man with a fussy manner at odds with his serious face.

'Shiv?' I nodded an enquiring eyebrow in the newcomer's direction.

Shiv swallowed his mouthful. 'Sorry, I keep forgetting you don't know everyone yet. This is Conall.'

'Pleasure.' I shook the hand he offered.

'Conall, this is Livak. She's a gambler by rights, but she's kindly been helping us get hold of some of the more difficult pieces.'

It was better than simply being introduced as a common house-breaker, I suppose, but what was this 'kindly helping'? I let it pass.

'You had the wit to pick up some books, Geris tells me?' Conall's eyes were bright with interest.

Saedrin save me from wizards and scholars, I thought. When would I ever be able to get back to decent, ordinary folk: horse copers, swindlers, gamblers and the like?

'Can you use the study, please? I want to get on.' Harna started whatever it is that mothers of small children do all day and we retreated next door.

'Now these are very interesting.' Conall rubbed his hands together with glee. 'Heriod's Almanac. I've only seen one other copy of this version and it was badly corrupted.' He leafed through it, scanning the cramped script eagerly. 'Have you checked on the phases of the moons for the changes of season? What about the festivals — are there any clues there? Can we pinpoint the generation at all?'

'There's a D'Isellion's Annals with an appendix I haven't seen before.' Geris handed him another volume and Conall looked momentarily distressed, like an ass between two bales of hay.

'Could you have a look at this one first.' Shiv passed over a thin blue-bound volume, its pages darkened by age. I peered across the table but could barely make out the script, let alone read it. Conall frowned and took an enlarging-glass out of his pocket, humming softly as he studied the book.

He looked up with an expression of wonder. ' The Mysteries of Misaen?’

Shiv nodded. 'It seems to be a journal of some sort, an initiate's work, I think.'

Geris produced a sheaf of parchment from somewhere and began searching through it.

'There's a lot here on the farseeing,' Conall breathed. He looked up at Shiv. 'Am I reading this right? Does it say they could hear as well as see?'

'I think so. Look at the next page.'

'Here!' Geris pulled a sheet out of his notes. 'There's a reference to D'Oxire's Navigation. What do you think? Is it the one we found last winter?'

He and Conall bent over the table while Shiv and Darni watched patiently.

'Would anyone care to tell me what this is all about?' I asked acidly.

Darni opened his mouth but Shiv got in first. 'I think we can trust you.'

'Oh, yes,' Geris chimed in with a fond gaze that I found somehow disquieting.

'You see, there's rather more to this than strange dreams that might tell us more about the fall of the Tormalin Empire.'

'That's important though.' Conall raised a peremptory finger. 'We're only just beginning to piece together what really happened. So much knowledge has been lost.'

'True, and not only historical knowledge.' Shiv hesitated.

'I'm listening,' I prompted him.

'We did a lot of work in Hadrumal trying to find out why certain items were making people have these odd dreams. We don't have a spell that would command this sort of effect nowadays, but we've always known the Old Tormalins could do much that we've yet to find out how to duplicate. This looked like a good chance to do some serious investigation. We had plenty of material.'

Shiv rubbed a hand through his hair. 'I shan't bore you with the details…'

'Thank you so much,' I murmured. 'Sorry, do go on.'

'It's starting to look as if this is a whole new — or rather, ancient — form of magic.' His expression was that of a man who had just lost his inheritance on the wrong runes.

'I don't follow.'

'It's completely different from all that we nowadays know as magic. It's not based on the elements at all.'

'I'm sorry but I'm not with you.'

Shiv clicked his tongue in exasperation. 'You know magic relies on manipulating the constituent—'

'Not really, no.'

They all stared at me and I felt very uncomfortable. 'Look, I've never had anything to do with wizards,' I said defensively.

'Air, earth, fire and water.' Darni spoke up from the corner of the room. 'Wizards are born with an innate ability to comprehend and manipulate one of the elements. With training they can learn to manage the others. That's magic.'

'Well, there's more to it than that but basically, yes, that's how it works.' Shiv fixed me with a serious eye. 'But the magic surrounding these things has nothing to do with the elements at all.'

'So what is it?'

'If I knew that, I'd be in line for the Archmage's chair.'

'We know it draws on some kind of power.' Geris spoke up eagerly. 'It's stronger in some places than others, but we haven't been able to find any common factors. We're calling it aether, the source of the power, I mean. I've got a reference here…' He shuffled his notes.

Aether. A nice, impressive scholarly word meaning, if I remembered right,'thin air'. I suppose plain language would not instil the same kind of confidence.

'So what do you really know?'

'The only clues we have are fragments in Old Tormalin writings and the garbled traditions of the mystery cults.' Conall leaned forward earnestly. 'That's where I come in. I'm an initiate of Poldrion. It's a family priesthood, the shrine's on our land and the older people round here are quite devout so we've kept it up. I broke an arm last year and it festered, so I was laid up for nearly a season; I amused myself by collating all the records.'

Some people certainly know how to have a good time, I thought.

'I came across some instructions on what the priests called miracles, and I found I could actually make things happen by following them.'

'I know that sounds incredible—'

I waved a hand to silence Geris' interruption. 'No, not really. Most religion's a sham as far as I'm concerned but I've seen a few priests do things I couldn't explain. Go on, Conall.'

'Let me show you.'

The old boy was clearly dying to do his festival trick. 'Go ahead.'

He placed a candle in the centre of the table and recited a complex mouthful of gibberish. I frowned as the candle-wick began to smoulder.

'Talmia megrala eldrin fres.' He repeated himself and the flame jumped into life. I stared as it died.

'But what's to say Conall's not really mageborn and just hasn't realised it before?' I looked up at Shiv.

'You can't hide magebirth; it usually comes out in childhood.'

'You find yourself setting fire to your bedclothes or making the well overflow,' said Darni, his lack of emotion remarkable in the circumstances.

Shiv nodded. 'It'll come out somehow, even when people do their best to suppress it. Some talents appear later but the oldest age of emergence on record was still only seventeen. Conall's more than fifty. Anyway, I could tell if this was elemental. I'd feel it.'

I stared at the thin trail of smoke winding up from the candle. Something was tugging at the back of my memory.

'Do it again.'

Conall obliged and I found my lips moving along with him.

'What is it?' Geris was watching me intently.

'The rhythm,' I said slowly. 'Can't you hear it?'

I picked up a quill and tapped it out. 'One two-three, one two-three, one-two, one.'

'What are you getting at?'

I repeated the nonsense words, stressing the metre, wondering why no one else was getting it. I've always had a good ear for rhythm, having the harp in my lucky runes. The quill I was holding burst into flames.

'Shit!' I dropped it and we all gaped stupidly for a moment as it burned a scar into Harna's polished table.

'Shit!' Shiv quenched it with a brief green flash and we all began to cough on the acrid smoke of burned feather until Darni opened the window.

'All right, I'm convinced,' I said a little shakily.

'What was so important about the rhythm?' Geris was looking more than a little piqued.

'I'm not sure,' Conall said slowly, eyes narrowed in thought. 'We'd better look into it. What made you pick up on it?'

'My father was a bard,' I said reluctantly. 'I suppose I've got his ear. Anyway, a lot of the old elegies he used to sing me to sleep with had that kind of lilt.'

'Did they?' Conall was rummaging through his parchments to find a clean page and began making notes. 'What were they? Can you remember the titles?'

I shrugged. 'I've no idea. They were old Forest songs that he used to sing to me.'

Conall looked at me as if he were noticing my red hair and green eyes for the first time. 'You're Forest blood?'

'Half-blood. My father was a minstrel who came to Vanam, where he met my mother.'

'Where can we find him?' Conall poised his pen eagerly.

'Not in Vanam, that's for sure,' I said shortly. 'He stayed for a while, then went back on the road. He came back from time to time but less and less frequently. I haven't seen him since the Equinox I was nine.'

'What was his name?'

'What is this? Why do you want to know?' You learn to live without a father; this was not something I wanted to get into.

'We know so little, almost anything could be significant,' Shiv said calmly. 'We should follow this up. Forest Folk travel widely but their traditions are kept very close. They could have something the rest of us have lost over the generations.'

'If we knew your father's name, we could identify his kindred at very least.'

'Jihol,' I said curtly.

'Jihol?' Conall looked at me expectantly. 'And his epithet?'

'Sorry?'

'The descriptive part of his name. It's important if we're to find him.'

I stared at him and something stirred in the depths of my memory. 'Deer-shanks,' I said slowly. 'That's what my grandmother called him.'

Well, spat would be a more accurate description. I squashed the recollection of her contempt breaking into a rare family afternoon in the sun.

Conall was busily writing things down. Geris frowned and then smiled.

'That would make you…' He paused. 'If you're half-blood, that would make you Livak Doe-daughter.' He said this as if he was announcing my right to a Lescari throne.

'It makes me nothing of the kind,' I snapped, disliking the way this conversation was exposing my ignorance of what I suppose you could call my heritage. He looked hurt but I had no time to waste on his romantic notions.

'Let's get back to the game, Shiv. So you've found a different sort of magic, what's so important?'

'I don't know.' He spread his hands. 'It could be just a curiosity, or it could be potentially earth-shattering. We just don't know what we're dealing with and ignorance can kill.'

'What you mean is, you wizards don't like the idea of other people using magic, do you?' I sniffed. 'What's the problem? You still seem to know more about all this than anyone else.'

'But wizards can't do this sort of magic.'

'Geris!' Shiv and Darni spoke together in a rare moment of unity and Geris blushed.

'They can't?' That was an interesting throw of the bones. I looked enquiringly at Conall.

'Um, no. Even people with minimal elemental talent have proved absolutely unable to work the few things we've discovered.'

I laughed until I saw Darni's expression. They had found a new type of magic but his useless mage talents were still enough to bar him from it; what a kick in the stones. I suppose he had some excuse for acting like a dog with a sore arse at times.

'But other people can? Who can and who can't?' I was getting interested in this.

'We don't know. We can't find any common trait.' They all looked solemn and fell silent.

A question that had been nagging at the back of my mind popped its head up again.

'Does this have anything to do with why you couldn't get that ink-horn for yourselves?'

'Pardon?' Shiv was singularly unconvincing as he tried to look blank.

'You said you could get things by magic if you had seen them and knew where they were, Shiv. You and Geris had visited the old man, so why did you need me?'

'You said she was sharp!' Conall laughed and I threw him a quick grin.

'There does seem to be a conflict with the two sorts of magic,' Shiv admitted. 'It's not always the case, but certainly, over really strongly enchanted items like the ink-horn, I can have real problems.'

Geris opened his mouth to elaborate but I waved him to silence.

'So now I know all this, how about telling me where we're going and what we're doing? The more I know, the more I can help.'

Darni looked as if he was going to object but decided to go with the run of the runes. He pulled out a map from Geris' now chaotic heap of parchment and spread it on the table.

'We're going through Eyhorne and up the high road to Dalasor. There's a man I need to see in Hanchet; he may have some information we can follow up. What we do next depends on how that goes. I certainly want to head for Inglis before winter. There's a merchant from there who outbid us on a piece we're particularly interested in, and I want it back. That's where you come in.'

I looked at the map and estimated the distance involved and the time it would take.

'Are you serious?' I asked incredulously.

'Absolutely.' Darni's tone was flat and hard.

So no chance of the Autumn Fair at Col this year. Oh well, if this was important enough for the Archmage to send people clear across the Old Empire, who was I to argue? I could keep quiet and wait for my coin. I wondered about trying to negotiate a daily rate.

I looked at the map again. 'What about Caladhria? There must be plenty of nobles with nice trinkets in there?' Caladhria was a lot closer and has nice things like real roads and inns and baths which Dalasor is notoriously short on.

'That's in hand,' Conall assured me. 'I've been working as an enclosure commissioner there for some years and I've got plenty of contacts.'

I'd bet he had, given the Caladhrian love of bureaucracy. A ruling council made up of the top five hundred nobles keeps ink- and parchment-makers in luxury there. It's always amazed me they ever managed to come up with the idea of enclosing the land but then, when you realise how much it's done to improve their stock-breeding, it becomes clearer. Have you ever known an aristocrat miss a chance to make more coin?

'So we're off to the delights of Dalasor; as much grass as you can eat and sheep as far as the eye can see.' Shiv clearly welcomed the prospect as much as me.

'Conall, it's market day in Eyhorne, isn't it?' Darni looked at me with a measuring eye. 'We'd better try and get you your own horse. I don't want to waste too much time crossing Dalasor, so we'll buy some remounts as well. Come on.'

We left Geris and Conall to peer excitedly at blurred ink, and Shiv to his efforts to restore Harna's table-top. Muttered curses were an essential part of both processes.

Eyhorne was not a long ride and the market was in full swing when we arrived. When it came to bargaining, Darni's 'cross me and I'll rip your arms and legs off expression proved a real bonus and we soon picked up a sturdy-looking mule, cooking gear, blankets and tents. Darni clearly knew exactly what he was looking for, as much an expert in his field, literally in this case, as I am in mine. I relaxed and amused myself watching the local pickpockets at work.

'So what do you like in a horse?' Darni led the way confidently to the pens.

'No teeth and an inability to kick?'

He looked at me curiously. 'You do ride?'

'Hire-horses, as and when necessary.'

'So we needn't bid for that?' He pointed to a pen where a black and white brute seemed to be doing its best to eat the auctioneer's assistants.

'Not on my account,' I said fervently.

Darni looked at the vicious beast with faint longing. 'Shame; I'd like to get my hands on one of those Gidestan types.'

For my personal horse we eventually settled on a nicely behaved gelding with a coppery coat and kind eyes. We also found remounts for all of us and a spare carriage horse. The final price made me blink, but Darni paid up without visible pain.

'Time of year,' he commented as we saddled up and prepared to leave the town. 'It's a sellers' market at the moment.'

'Is he part of my payment or what?' I rubbed the horse's silky shoulder.

Darni shook his head. 'Call it a bonus. Planir can afford it.'

I started to wonder again about a longer-term association with the Archmage's agents.

We left the next morning and headed north. Darni set a brisk pace and I found myself enjoying riding a well-bred, well-schooled horse for a change.

'So, what are you calling him?' Geris asked as we waited our turn at a ford.

'What? Oh, I don't know.'

'He's got a noble head; how about Kycir?'

I laughed. 'Geris, it's a horse! You sit on it and it gets you places faster than walking. Anyway, why should I land it with a name like that?'

'What's wrong with it? He was the last undisputed King of Lescar.'

'He was also a complete plank!'

'He was a hero!'

'He died in a duel defending his wife's honour and when they went to tell her they found her in bed with his brother!'

'Kycir died believing in her!'

'He was the last one who did. That heroic tale left Lescar ten generations of civil war!'

We bickered away happily and, when we finally worked our way back to the horse, we settled on Russet as a name.

We travelled on for several days without incident to that stretch of heath between Eyhorne and Hanchet which runs up against the Caladhrian border. There was a slightly awkward moment when Darni realised Geris was planning to share my tent and hauled him off into the trees, supposedly to collect firewood.

'I'll get some water.' I casually picked up the kettle.

'Of course you will.' Shiv did not look up from the meat he was spitting.

I grinned at Shiv and moved quietly into the woods. Darni was ringing the curfew over Geris and no mistake.

'And how is she going to be climbing into attics with a two-season belly on her? Had you thought of that?' he hissed.

Geris mumbled something indistinct. Should I tell Darni I had thought of just such an event and taken appropriate action? No, it was none of his business. Let him ask me himself if he had the stones for it.

His voice rose in exasperation. 'Look, I don't care if you two are playing stuff the chicken ten times a night—'

I winced at the smack of fist on flesh and judged it time to leave. Darni and Geris appeared a little while later, carrying a good supply of firewood, which was something of a surprise. Nothing was said, I didn't ask and the evening continued in good enough humour so I suppose they must have sorted themselves out. I sighed a regret for the simple life of working with other women.

We made Hanchet a couple of days after that, just as the lesser moon passed the full and the greater waxed to three quarters. I for one was looking forward to a real bed and a bath. Unfortunately, Hanchet proved a disappointment in more ways than one. It's low-lying so most of the houses are wooden-framed withy and daub; the recent rain made the whole place thick with mud and stagnant-smelling. The bridge up the road had been washed out in an earlier storm and the town was full of travellers and traders waiting for it to be repaired. Even the Archmage's coin could not get us rooms anywhere decent and I was forced to renew my acquaintance with the various wildlife that thrive in cheap hostel beds. Our inn had no baths and, given the tension in the town, I didn't fancy the wash-house over the way, which had far too many 'laundresses' hanging round it. Hanchet's current ruler is a dry old maid who inherited unexpectedly and who has a particularly censorious attitude towards commercial sex. All the brothels had been cleared, but her ladyship had not yet caught on to the reason for the sudden boom in places to get your clothes and your body washed, if you get my drift.

Next morning Darni left us sitting over indifferent ale and worse food in the tap-room and went to find his contact. He returned unexpectedly fast with an expression that would have soured wine.

'Trouble?' Shiv pushed the jug towards him as he seated himself with a sigh.

'He's dead.' Darni scowled into his ale and fished something out.

'How?' Gens' eyes were wide with concern.

'Abscess. The surgeon pulled the tooth, but it was too late. The poison was in his blood and two days later…' Darni shrugged.

I ran my tongue round my own teeth, grateful to my mother for the gap I had there. I'd bet the others were doing the same; it's a story we've all heard, after all. I frowned at Geris, who was looking inappropriately cheerful, and he blushed and ducked his head.

'Did he leave any word, anything for you?' Shiv asked hesitantly. 'Your letter…'

Darni shook his head. 'Not that I can find out. The widow's sold up and gone back to her own family. You can't blame her, he's left her with five to bring up.'

He glowered at his ale and went off to start an argument with the potman about it.

'So who was this man? What was Darni hoping to get from him?' I asked, curiosity pricking my neck.

'It's not important.' Shiv managed to combine smiling at me with a warning glance at Geris.

So that was that. I let it go; if there was no information and as a result no risky job for me, they could keep their little secrets if it made them feel important. Still, distracted men make poor gamblers. I took my runes out and smiled cheerfully at them both.

At least we could leave muddy Hanchet and, although we had to make a long detour to the next bridge, we were still in Dalasor before the full dark of the night.