the touch of an ice-dipped razor slithered down the Alban’s spine and he seemed to see the bars of a cage closing around him. But there was still one possible key that no one knew about. If only… He forced his voice to a flat calm. “How much damage was done? I… missed the end of it.”
“Enough and to spare,” she said quietly. “The tavern was gutted, burnt to a shell. Stables, kitchen, tap-room— and most of the guest-rooms too. Yours among them. Somehow your saddlebags weren’t there.”
Yes, they bloody were
! He caught the snapping contradiction just in time; let her think she was playing him for a fool a little longer. But his saddlebags were invariably in the same room where he slept, even disregarding the presence of money; they contained the clean clothes and the razor which he needed first thing every morning. So who had moved them?
“... they were found at last, and investigated—”
“Of course!” This time he did interrupt aloud, but his sarcasm seemed almost an expected response to her confession and consequently went unremarked.
“Investigated,” she spoke with heavy patience now, “for some idea of who you were, no more. Because there was a stage when my concern was only to find some true words for your grave-marker.”
Aldric stared at her and his mouth twitched slightly without completing any one of the dozen possible expressions which it might have formed—and not one of them an expression the Drusalan woman would have liked. But for her part she lifted both shoulders in an ostentatious shrug and let it go at that. Why start to worry now? the shrug said. You’re still alive, aren’t you?
“There was no money in the saddlebags, none at all. Nor in your pockets. If there had been, it would have been given to me for safe-keeping. And yet the innkeeper kept insisting that you were rich. ‘Free with Imperial silver,’ were his exact words. Not any more, I’m afraid. Whatever wealth you might have had is melted slag among the ashes of the inn. Now do you understand what I mean when I say that I owe you?”
“I understand that I can no longer pay my own way in the Drusalan Empire,” Aldric returned a trifle frostily. Either the silver in question
had
been destroyed—which was unlikely to a degree—or it had been stolen afterwards to convey that impression.
“Quite so.” She refused to be baited by his tone, which was natural enough in the circumstances anyway. “Until I repay my debt, you are my guest, Alban. Because otherwise—here at least—you are a pauper.”
“Oh.” That was all. Aldric set his saddlebags down again and allowed his shoulders to sag. Not all of it was pretence; everything was far too neat, far too obviously planned in advance. And far too obviously planned for his especial benefit, if benefit was quite the word he wanted.
But for all her pretended omniscience, the woman didn’t know everything. And in that lack of knowledge lay his one hope and his one chance to get himself clear of this mess before the cage was fully shut.
“I want to see my horses, lady; and to check that all my gear is as safe as you assure me. And then I want a look at the harbor anyway.” It felt odd not having used her name once, for all that they had spoken together for so long; but then he didn’t yet know it—nor she his. Well, maybe that was for the best. Time enough for names—even assumed names—when they were going to be of some use.
“I’ll have a servant escort you,” she said quickly. Too quickly for Aldric’s liking.
“I’d sooner go alone.”
“No!”
“No… ?”
“No. It would be too dangerous.” He quirked one eyebrow at that. “You are a foreigner.
Inyen-hlensyarl
. And people are uneasy about foreigners right now.”
His mind went back to the attitudes displayed in the tavern common-room. “I’ve noticed that much already. Why?”
“
K’shva sho’tah, ‘n-tach chu h’labech
.”
“They fear you, because they fear
“Enough and to spare,” she said quietly. “The tavern was gutted, burnt to a shell. Stables, kitchen, tap-room— and most of the guest-rooms too. Yours among them. Somehow your saddlebags weren’t there.”
Yes, they bloody were
! He caught the snapping contradiction just in time; let her think she was playing him for a fool a little longer. But his saddlebags were invariably in the same room where he slept, even disregarding the presence of money; they contained the clean clothes and the razor which he needed first thing every morning. So who had moved them?
“... they were found at last, and investigated—”
“Of course!” This time he did interrupt aloud, but his sarcasm seemed almost an expected response to her confession and consequently went unremarked.
“Investigated,” she spoke with heavy patience now, “for some idea of who you were, no more. Because there was a stage when my concern was only to find some true words for your grave-marker.”
Aldric stared at her and his mouth twitched slightly without completing any one of the dozen possible expressions which it might have formed—and not one of them an expression the Drusalan woman would have liked. But for her part she lifted both shoulders in an ostentatious shrug and let it go at that. Why start to worry now? the shrug said. You’re still alive, aren’t you?
“There was no money in the saddlebags, none at all. Nor in your pockets. If there had been, it would have been given to me for safe-keeping. And yet the innkeeper kept insisting that you were rich. ‘Free with Imperial silver,’ were his exact words. Not any more, I’m afraid. Whatever wealth you might have had is melted slag among the ashes of the inn. Now do you understand what I mean when I say that I owe you?”
“I understand that I can no longer pay my own way in the Drusalan Empire,” Aldric returned a trifle frostily. Either the silver in question
had
been destroyed—which was unlikely to a degree—or it had been stolen afterwards to convey that impression.
“Quite so.” She refused to be baited by his tone, which was natural enough in the circumstances anyway. “Until I repay my debt, you are my guest, Alban. Because otherwise—here at least—you are a pauper.”
“Oh.” That was all. Aldric set his saddlebags down again and allowed his shoulders to sag. Not all of it was pretence; everything was far too neat, far too obviously planned in advance. And far too obviously planned for his especial benefit, if benefit was quite the word he wanted.
But for all her pretended omniscience, the woman didn’t know everything. And in that lack of knowledge lay his one hope and his one chance to get himself clear of this mess before the cage was fully shut.
“I want to see my horses, lady; and to check that all my gear is as safe as you assure me. And then I want a look at the harbor anyway.” It felt odd not having used her name once, for all that they had spoken together for so long; but then he didn’t yet know it—nor she his. Well, maybe that was for the best. Time enough for names—even assumed names—when they were going to be of some use.
“I’ll have a servant escort you,” she said quickly. Too quickly for Aldric’s liking.
“I’d sooner go alone.”
“No!”
“No… ?”
“No. It would be too dangerous.” He quirked one eyebrow at that. “You are a foreigner.
Inyen-hlensyarl
. And people are uneasy about foreigners right now.”
His mind went back to the attitudes displayed in the tavern common-room. “I’ve noticed that much already. Why?”
“
K’shva sho’tah, ‘n-tach chu h’labech
.”
“They fear you, because they fear
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