Kings Of The North Part 16

"I know already," Arvid said, "and do not need to ask. It is no great secret, though the location of the elfane taig is not certainly known to my informants."

"It is to me," the dwarf said. "But we do not go there." He paused, as the serving maid reappeared with a platter and picked up their used dishes. Another appeared with bowls of custard.

"Have the Sinyi moved back in, do you know?" Arvid asked, when she had left and the two rockbrothers had begun to eat.

"Oh, yes," said the gnome, his voice now bitter. "They say they are cleansing the hall and we will all be invited when it is done-the Elder Folk, that is. They denied my prince's request to send a delegation to search for any kapristi bodies, and said they would bring them to us if they found any." He spat a small bone onto the floor.

"Ungracious," Arvid murmured. "You were involved, were you not, in its construction?"

"In small ways only," the gnome said. He glanced at the dwarf.

"We a.s.sayed the stone," the dwarf said. "Declared it suitable; it was a..." He paused, then went on. "An agreement was reached between dwarf and elf, for the stone-right-"

"It was not a fair exchange," the gnome muttered.

"It was not your your stone," the dwarf said. "It was ours-the king's to give, if he chose, but he chose to trade." stone," the dwarf said. "It was ours-the king's to give, if he chose, but he chose to trade."

"Stone belongs to us, us," the gnome said. "As Sertig wrought, so it should be: the rockfolk to the bones of the earth, the singers to the trees above."

"Are you saying the king had no right-?"

"I am saying no prince would have so abused Sertig's gift," the gnome said. "And for a female to rule-"

Arvid cleared his throat; the rockfolk looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Rockbrothers, I am not of your kind, though I speak your language, and would not choose to hear that which might displease you later to know had been heard. Pray warn me away, or abate your quarrel."

"Courteous," allowed the gnome.

"Fine words," growled the dwarf.

"So we were discussing a necklace," Arvid went on, "of which I know but little, save that in my hands it seemed a thing of rare beauty, such stones as only rockfolk bring from the ground." Silence, but for munching and swallowing. "And yet I heard you say it was not of your making."

"It was not," said the gnome. He wiped his mouth after a long swallow of ale. "Neither dwarf nor gnome, to our knowledge, brought forth the stones or wrought them into that necklace. Nor was it elf-made."

"Surely," Arvid said, "it was not made by men."

"It did not make itself," the dwarf said. "And who else might have made it, if not dwarf, gnome, or elf? Humankind it must be, but not from here."

"From across the sea?" Arvid asked, tenting his fingers.

The two rockfolk looked at each other and back at Arvid. They said nothing.

"Old Aare, perhaps?" Arvid said, smiling from one to the other.

"I am thinking you know little and ask much," the gnome said. "Your answers to our questions told us nothing."

"I do not ask," Arvid said. "I but think aloud. If not from here, or Aarenis, or across the eastern sea, or far Kolobia, or the Westmounts, then it must be from somewhere else, and the only somewhere else I can think of is Old Aare."

"Cursed land," said the gnome, pinching his lips after.

"We don't go there," the dwarf said. "The rock is nedross."

"Mmm. So you," Arvid said, looking at the dwarf, "would simply take the thing, if you knew where it was, and-and then what?"

"It's valuable," the dwarf said.

"Yes, but its value varies. Where would you sell it, if you could?"

"Why should one tell you?" the gnome asked. "What value would you return for this information?"

Arvid shrugged. "Perhaps it would not be worth your while to know what I know." He was aware of sharpened attention. "It is not the first time I have been in Fin Panir, though it is the first time I have been invited into the Marshal-General's own library." The quality of their silence changed again. He smiled at them. "But come, rockbrethren, finish your meal. You have traveled far today, I'll warrant, and the day was over-hot for those used to the shelter of stone."

The dwarf found his voice first. "You-a thief-are invited to the Marshal-General-"

"To the library. To meet with scribes, I understand. The Marshal-General, as I am sure you're aware, is away." He knew, but perhaps they did not, that she would be back on the morrow.

"You know where the necklace is?" asked the gnome.

"Does that information have value to you?" asked Arvid.

A stir at the doorway; Arvid did not glance that way, but watched the gnome and the dwarf, who did.

"Aye, he's here," he heard from the landlord a few moments later.

Arvid smiled at the two who still had food before them. "I expect it's my guide; I will be sleeping tonight in the Girdish headquarters. I shall hope not to see you before sunrise." Then he turned and raised a hand to acknowledge the bearded Marshal edging his way between tables. "I'm quite ready, Marshal, if you won't join me for a mug."

"Thank you, no," the man said. "Marshal Perin, that's my name. Evening, rockbrothers." He spoke in Common, not their tongue, and the two merely nodded. He turned back to Arvid. "You've a horse needs stabling, I understand?"

"Yes, if you've room. I've paid a night's bait for him here, but since I'm moving, I'd prefer to take him along."

"No problem. Settled?"

"Oh, yes. My pack's just here-" Arvid plucked it from the shelf that ran along the wall, and handed the landlord the wooden tag on a thong that proved it his.

By the time they reached the complex of buildings where the former king's palace had once been, Arvid had told Marshal Perin about the dwarf, the apparent dwarf who was really a gnome.

"Really? He's not wearing gray, and he's with a dwarf; I didn't know they did that."

"He's a kteknik, kteknik," Arvid said. "A spy. It's his punishment for something he did in his own tribe-Aldonfulk, he said."

Marshal Perin scowled. "They punish their people by making them spies?"

"For some crimes, yes. Service to the prince, it's called. He can't wear his tribe's uniform-"

"They're all just gray, aren't they?"

Arvid sighed to himself. "Not quite, Marshal. They're all gray or black, but each princedom has a uniform-it may be the lay of the collar, the b.u.t.tons, the cuffs-and it is death for a gnome to wear the uniform of another tribe, to which he is not ent.i.tled. He cannot wear his own again until his prince decides the information he brings back balances whatever it was he did. The usual thing is for a kteknik kteknik to work with a dwarf, because in colored clothes he can pa.s.s for a young dwarf." to work with a dwarf, because in colored clothes he can pa.s.s for a young dwarf."

"How many of the beardless dwarves we see are ktet-ketick-whatevers?"

"Most to all," Arvid said. "Didn't you know that?"

"No, I did not," Marshal Perin said. "We did not."

"It's true," Arvid said. "Young dwarves do not go out into the world until they have beards, and they grow beards early. Only very rarely will you see a true dwarf lad out with his father, and never in a large city. They're very protective, dwarves."

A groom came to take Arvid's horse. He followed into the stable to see where it was stalled.

"You will be sleeping in the School dormitories," Marshal Perin said. "You will have your own room, of course. But please do not mingle with the students. They are apt to fall on any guest or traveler and ask questions when they should be studying."

"School?" Arvid said.

"We're the training facility for the Knights of Gird, also paladins-though they're housed separately-and we also have a junior school where Girdish...I suppose I must say n.o.bles, mostly from Tsaia...send boys for whom they cannot find acceptable fosterage. Wealthier Finthans, as well. Most end up as Knights of Gird or Knights of the Bells."

"Only boys?"

"For the younger ones, yes. For knights' training and paladin candidates, we have both-as you must know, because of Paksenarrion." Marshal Perin paused in the great forecourt. "Would you like to see the High Lord's Hall?"

A little chill ran down Arvid's back. "Perhaps another time," he said. "It is late-"

The Marshal's mouth quirked. "Not that late. Admittedly, the windows are more beautiful in the morning, with sunlight coming in the round one, but...I'm sorry to be blunt, but you must know that we know who you are. We honor you for saving our paladin, but...a thief-"

"I'm not a thief," Arvid said. "Not all in the Thieves' Guild are thieves."

Marshal Perin smiled and nodded. "I understand. But still, you consort with thieves. Fortunate for Paksenarrion that you do, for then you were able to help her."

Arvid s.h.i.+vered again. The memory of that time would not release him; he still saw her wounds heal, heard the gasps of the crowd, smelled the rank fear, felt the buffeting of those fleeing the scene. He had come prepared to ensure honorable burial for her...and she was not dead. The other one, he had killed quickly, efficiently, with the poisoned daggers he always carried.

Then Paksenarrion had wakened...alive, not crippled, and in behavior the same as she had been a few years before, when he had enjoyed playing the sophisticate with the naive soldier-girl. And said...that Gird might want to save the Thieves' Guild. Ridiculous. He had not told that that to the Marshal who first interviewed him about Paks. He wasn't sure he'd ever tell anyone. to the Marshal who first interviewed him about Paks. He wasn't sure he'd ever tell anyone.

"I was glad to help her," he said.

When they entered the School courtyard, cloaked in the blue shadows of summer dusk, Arvid glanced around, automatically noting ways in and out. Windows, drainpipes, gates...it would be easy, should he need to. His skin tightened. His room, one of five kept for guests on the ground floor, was small but clean and furnished with sufficient to his needs: bed, chair, table.

"The rockbrothers will try to steal the necklace tonight or tomorrow night," he said suddenly.

Marshal Perin stared. "Necklace?"

"The one I gave Paks in Brewersbridge. They know it's here-well, everyone with wit in Tsaia knows that."

"But surely-"

"Guard it well this night, Marshal, wherever it is. Such a thing might redeem the kteknik kteknik's place with his prince, or a dwarf's with his king."

"They said this?"

"They were talking of the necklace when I joined them, and said it plain out. I speak their language, you see."

"If they are caught, they will know you betrayed them," Marshal Perin said. "Dwarves, at least, do not take kindly to betrayal."

"I gave warning," Arvid said. "I told them I hoped not to see them before sunrise-and they know who I am. I do not know if it will stop them. This is a pleasant room for guesting in, but it is more likely to deter such thieves if they see me with drawn blade here and there about the place. Let them think a thief-as you think, and they also-was set as guard."

"You...want me-us-to show you where the treasury is, and trust you you to ward it?" to ward it?"

Arvid shrugged. "It is up to you, of course. I quite understand your reluctance and would not suggest, in any event, that I be the only guard. Merely that I am the one most likely to spot gaps in your protection large enough for one small gnome to wriggle through."

"You have no desire for the thing yourself?" The Marshal's gaze was keen; Arvid met it squarely, having no fear that his face would reveal anything of his thoughts.

"I had none, when I left Verella," he said. "I am not a poor man; what I need, I have. And yet I admit that as I came closer to Fin Panir, I felt...something. From what I have heard-and you may have as well-the crown and other regalia have some ancient magery to them, and draw or repel persons without their will. If this necklace does belong with the rest-if it is part of that-perhaps it seeks to join the others, or they seek to call it."

"Magery!" The Marshal's face tightened to a grimace of disgust. "Do you mean the old-the magelords' magery?"

"Yes," Arvid said. He had opened his pack in full sight of the Marshal, unrolling his spare clothes and laying them neatly on the shelf, along with his own cup, plate, bowl, and eating utensils. He shook the pack, demonstrating its spurious emptiness, and hung it on a peg. "Surely you heard about the coronation-that the new Duke Verrakai killed a Verrakaien who had taken disguise as a groom, and thus saved the king's life. So he pardoned her for her use of magery in doing so."

"We heard that, but did not credit it," Marshal Perin said. "The Marshal-General was there; she would not countenance such a breach of the Code of Gird. Killing by magery is an offense for which the only sentence is death."

"The king rules in Tsaia. And you can hardly blame the Tsaians for thinking a live king, new-crowned, is worth the exchange. His younger brother is but a child, and not like to become the man the king is, so I hear."

Marshal Perin shook his head. "It is wrong, and nothing can make it right. That's what Gird's war was about: clear right and wrong, no excuses."

This was exactly why the Girdish had always seemed so naive and even stupid to Arvid: their insistence that everything was simple at root. Their paladins used what amounted to magery, but no doubt they'd say it was the G.o.ds' favor. How did they know the magelords had not had some G.o.d's favor? But this night he had a reason to convince this Marshal that he should be allowed to guard the treasure. What approach would work?

"It would be wrong to let it be stolen," Arvid murmured.

The Marshal turned sharply. "You seriously think the necklace is in danger-you do not trust that we have secure locks?"

"I trust that in a center of Girdish learning, surrounded by those who follow the Code of Gird, you have little experience with really skilled thieves or-since you forbid magery-with the way enchanted objects can sway minds. I know that two determined rockfolk-and rockfolk will know things about this place you do not-expect to make away with it."

The Marshal shook his head. "Impossible. The buildings here are on bedrock."

"Rockfolk," Arvid murmured.

Silence. Then, "Oh," said the Marshal. "You mean they could-"

"Tunnel through it? Certainly."

"But how would they know where to tunnel?"

"It is said that the rockfolk can perceive the jewels they desire through a league of solid rock-that is how they find them. I do not know if that is entirely true, or what sense they use, but we had a dwarf in the Guild at one time who proved uncannily accurate in a test of that ability. We drilled a hole to the center of each of three blocks of stone, and put a single jewel in one, then asked him to name the stone holding the jewel. He did so. The safest place for your treasure, Marshal Perin, is aboveground, in a room large enough for multiple guards, all of them known to you."

"Which excludes you," Marshal Perin said, "since you are not known to me."

"If the others are your fellow Girdsmen, they will not let me steal."

"I will ask," Marshal Perin said. "But I do not know if they will follow your advice or wishes. Will you wait here or come with me?"

"I will wait," Arvid said, for that, he thought, would ease the Marshal's mind a bit. "Leave the door open, if you will, for the breeze." The first cool breath of air had come through the window into the stuffy little room. Marshal Perin nodded and left. Arvid took his pack off the peg and removed from it those items he might need in the night, then hung it again. He checked his blades, one by one, and when satisfied lay down on the narrow bed and waited. It was not long before someone paused at the door and looked in: a bright-eyed youngster in the gray tunic and trousers of a student.

"Are you a visitor?" the boy asked, then flushed as if he'd realized it was a stupid question.