The Hawk And His Boy by Christopher Bunn Page B

beginning to throb, which lent his words vigor. He had not joined the Guild for this.
    “What was that last bit?” asked the regent’s nephew. “The part about the jackass and the thingummy? Fascinating stuff—I must confess I’ve never—”
    Mugs and plates jumped as Ronan’s fist crashed down again on the table.
    “Never mind that,” he said. “What’s her name?!”
    “What?”
    “Her name!” said Ronan.
    Her name was Liss Galnes, and she was the daughter of Cypmann Galnes, a widower and merchant who, by virtue of his wit and his wealth, was the regent’s advisor on matters of trade. The Galnes family lived in a mansion in one of the more secluded streets of Highneck Rise, a stone house surrounded by a walled garden. Liss was an only child, and her father had kept her from the social circles of the court, judging that such a place was no fit environment for a child. This was a view he held privately, of course, for, although he entertained doubts regarding Nimman Botrell’s mental capabilities, he did not doubt the regent’s capacity for sudden and malicious judgment.
    Liss was raised mostly alone, except for her father, a few servants, and a succession of tutors. She learned needlepoint and the history of Hearne, although facts on this subject became sparse, of course, once one reached the Midsummer War and the reign of Dol Cynehad, the last king of Hearne. She learned to play the spinet and how to figure compound interest, though her father grumbled that compound interest was no suitable pastime for women. She read Harthian poetry in its original form—slowly and with much frowning, of course—and she learned how to run a household. She also became an accomplished gardener and grew the best apples in all of Hearne. This was how Arodilac Bridd met her.
    “The best apples you’ve ever tasted,” said Arodilac.
    “Get on with your story,” said Ronan, gritting his teeth.
    Cypmann Galnes was in the habit of carrying fresh fruit with him wherever he went, said Arodilac. Even to the castle. The regent, who was given to three vices—horses, women, and food—availed himself of some fruit Galnes brought one day, and, after his appetite was piqued with an apple, inquired where the merchant found such delicacies.
    “In his garden, of course,” said Ronan, eyeing a pewter pitcher and wondering if beating Arodilac over the head with it would, in any way, speed up the storytelling.
    “In his garden,” echoed the youth. “And then, do you know what happened?”
    “No, but you’re going to tell me.”
    “Uncle pulled me aside after dinner, and said there was something he wanted me to get for him. He wanted apple pie for dessert, the next day, and the best apples were to be had from the garden of Cypmann Galnes. And if he didn’t have his apple pie, he’d be cross.”
    “So what’d you say?” asked Ronan, intrigued despite himself by this private side of the regent.
    “I told him that, once when I was small, Cypmann Galnes thrashed me for chucking pebbles at his horse.”
    “Rightly so. I would’ve done the same.”
    “He only laughed and told me to get some of those apples.”
    “Which are in that garden.”
    “In the garden, yes,” agreed Arodilac. “I pointed that out to him, and he told me to steal them.”
    “What?”
    “He told me to steal them.”
    “So the regent’s muscling in on the Thieves Guild? Let the fruit vendors look to their knives, or they’ll be paying double in protection.”
    Arodilac fell into a reverie, gazing out the window. Twilight was falling, and the oak trees that stood alongside the castle wall were dappled with shadow and blurred light.
    “The house is at the end of the Street of Willows, and it was one of those trees that I climbed to make my way over the wall. Cypmann Galnes was working at his warehouse down at the docks. I swung over the top and Liss was there, sitting under a tree and doing needlepoint. She didn’t say anything. She just watched me. I