Kings Of The North Part 19

"Yes, Marshal-General."

"You don't look like a man who successfully killed four Girdish knights and made off with a stolen necklace, a horse, and a pack."

"No, Marshal-General."

She glanced at the gnome and to Arvid's astonishment said, "Greetings, rockbrother. Was it you who bound up this man's wound?" in the gnome's own language.

"Yes, Marshal-General," the gnome said, eyes alight.

"And you were with him in this...situation?"

"Yes, Marshal-General."

"An accomplice, I'll warrant," Pir said. "I'll tell you what I think-"

"Later," the Marshal-General said. "I will see Arvid, whom I invited and who is my guest, cared for first."

"But-"

She turned her shoulder to him and spoke to the man leading the horse Arvid had ridden. "It was well done, Torin, to offer him a mount. I suppose the rockbrother refused?"

"Yes, Marshal-General."

"Arvid, come with me, you and your friend. You will sleep in the main Hall tonight." Arvid was not sure he could walk that far, but one of the Marshals offered him an arm, and he made it inside the cool entrance chamber of the Hall without disgracing himself. "You both need a chance to bathe and change," the Marshal-General said. She spoke to a young man in gray. "We need a suit of clothes for this rockbrother and also for this man."

They moved down a pa.s.sage past a long room filled with tables and benches and turned left into one furnished with two beds and opening into a small chamber with a tub and spigot and a stool. A window in the bedchamber opened onto a walled garden.

"You will wish to stay together, I imagine," the Marshal-General said. "You will be more comfortable here than in the School barracks, and anyway, there's a disturbance over there right now." She turned to the gnome and again spoke in that language. "Rockbrother, I honor your skill in wound care and do not doubt you have applied the best herbs you could find, but Arvid is a man, and I would ask that you permit one of our healers to see him. I am sure it will not lessen whatever ceremony of exchange you had with him."

"He was wounded by my blade in another's hand, and he saved me," the gnome said. "The debt is mine; my life is his; do what you will."

The Marshal-General glanced at Arvid; he opened his mouth to explain, but his vision darkened and he was hardly aware when he slumped, other than to think, Oh, no Oh, no. He came to himself again in one of the beds. Snoring from the other bed proved to be his gnome companion, sound asleep. A dim lamp burned in the bath chamber. Outside, it was dark, as he could see between the slats of the shutters, now opened for a nonexistent breeze.

Beyond the closed door, he could hear footsteps and voices, but not what they said. Some pa.s.sed...more silence...then immediately outside the door he heard voices again.

"I'll just look," one said. The door opened. The Marshal-General, in a simple blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, over gray trousers.

"I'm awake," Arvid said. "But he's not."

"I'll be brief. Do you remember waking once before?"

"No." He hated the thought of that.

"You roused enough, after you were cleaned up, to drink a little soup. Your wound has been healed, though we can do nothing for the blood loss. If that b.l.o.o.d.y mess in your cloak pocket-and dear dear Arvid, I do not wish to think what purpose you find for all those pockets-is all your own blood, our healers think that is quite enough to explain what happened." Arvid, I do not wish to think what purpose you find for all those pockets-is all your own blood, our healers think that is quite enough to explain what happened."

Arvid squeezed his eyes shut a moment. So now the Marshal-General and doubtless all the other Marshals knew some of his secrets...and the cloak was the easiest of his tools to use, most times.

"I travel a lot," he said, his voice coming out in a croak. He had never felt more like a rain-sodden rooster, tail feathers limp and dragging.

"Indeed you do. I will not worry you tonight, but if you are awake, the healers say more food would be a good idea."

"And then?" Was this a last meal?

"And then a night's sleep, and in the morning we shall talk."

His stomach grumbled, and she wrinkled her nose at the sound. "I'll have a bowl of beef broth and all-heal sent in, and some bread. And more water."

"The door-"

"Is guarded. You have nothing to fear, Arvid."

He wasn't so sure, but as the gnome snored on, and a woman with a broad friendly face brought him the food, he ate and-snoring or no-slept. He woke to children's voices in the garden outside; it was broad day already, and they had been sent, he gathered, to pick herbs for the kitchen.

The gnome's bed was empty, but he could hear splashing from the bathing room. He lay, feeling less soreness in his shoulders and hands than he'd expected, even if his arm was healed...he looked, and the bandage was gone, but a clean white scar, thin as a string, outlined the slash.

Well. He sat up; his head spun for a moment. A cream-colored shirt embroidered with stars and flowers around the neckline and a pair of gray trousers were folded on the table. He glared at them. He He wore black. He did not wear Girdish clothes, except he had no others, and he was not going to walk around bare-skinned. He put on the clothes-they smelled of sun and herbs and were pleasantly soft-rough on his skin-and tried standing. Yes, he could stand, but he felt weaker than he'd hoped. wore black. He did not wear Girdish clothes, except he had no others, and he was not going to walk around bare-skinned. He put on the clothes-they smelled of sun and herbs and were pleasantly soft-rough on his skin-and tried standing. Yes, he could stand, but he felt weaker than he'd hoped.

The gnome came out of the bathing chamber, dressed now in a sleeveless brown jerkin and green trousers, both too wide for him and held on with a leather belt. "They had only dwarf things," he said to Arvid. "It is not discourtesy. Our clothes will be clean and dry later today, they said."

"Do you have others at the inn where we met?" Arvid asked.

"I do," the gnome said. "But I am not sure-the dwarf may have hidden them, or perhaps he did not even pay the score. And he could have taken my money-"

"We have two gold pieces," Arvid said. "Those were mine, from my own purse." At least...he'd had them the day before. But there they were, on top of his folded cloak. His sword belt and sword, too, and all his other blades, neatly laid out. Either the Marshal-General wasn't planning to kill him, or she hoped he'd give an excuse. He thought about that as he went in the bathing chamber, splashed water on his face and hands, and made use of the jacks-hole, here set in a raised platform and provided with an elaborately carved seat. Surely that wasn't Gird's idea...but he remembered this had been a palace before Gird's time.

He was pulling on his boots over thick gray socks when a tap came at the door. It was, again, the Marshal-General.

"You look better," she said. Her gaze flicked to the table. "Feel free to arm yourself if you wish. I was quite impressed, by the way."

"If you were going to kill me, you had your chance," Arvid said. The embroidered shirt soured his mood. Flowers!

"You're my guest," the Marshal-General said. "I don't kill guests. You need breakfast, you and your companion."

She led them to a small empty dining room off the vast kitchen, with a table just large enough for six, and then fetched breakfast herself. "For you, Arvid, meat to make up the blood you lost. For you, rockbrother, what I believe your folk prefer: fruit and seeds. If that is not to your taste, please tell me." The gnome chose berries over stone fruits, and crunched away at the various seeds and nuts. Arvid ate steadily: the slice of ham, the eggs, the bread. When they had done, the Marshal-General carried the crockery out and came back.

"Rockbrother," she said first, "I need to speak with Arvid awhile, him alone. Will you walk about the garden, or accept a guide around the Hall?"

The gnome looked at Arvid. Arvid shrugged. "Do what you will, rockbrother, while the Marshal-General and I have speech. I will be with you again later."

"I would see your High Lord's Hall," the gnome said, to Arvid's surprise. "I understand this is to you what our Giver of Law is to us."

"That pleases me," the Marshal-General said. "I will send for a guide, one who speaks some of your language, to answer any questions you may have."

The gnome bowed; soon a young woman in a Marshal's tabard appeared and greeted him in his language. "Rockbrother, you would see the High Lord's Hall? May I be your guide?" And off they went together. The Marshal-General sat down across from Arvid.

"Well, now," she said.

"Marshal-General," Arvid said. He had not expected to feel anything in particular face-to-face with her-he who had been face-to-face with others in power-but her steady gaze quickened his pulse.

"You are not a stupid man, Arvid Semminson," she said. "I do not believe you stole the necklace, nor did you entomb those Girdish knights. You would not commit such obvious crimes."

"Thank you for your good opinion," Arvid said, past a tight throat.

"So I will hear your story, in your own words, taking as long as you will, and as completely as you remember." Her mouth twitched in the tiniest of smiles. "I imagine you understand me."

"You have no scribe here to record-"

"No. If I decide a record is necessary, I can write it myself."

"I begin with the showing of the regalia, then," Arvid said. Without naming names, he explained how word of the regalia had pa.s.sed to and through the Thieves' Guild.

"Do you know the first date the crown was heard of?" the Marshal-General said.

"Before the coronation? No, only that there was rumor the new Duke Verrakai had a secret crown and would have another try at the prince, then or after he became king. As soon as word pa.s.sed that Dorrin Verrakai would be the new duke, I would say. Certainly the rumors built in the last few tendays before the coronation itself."

"I was surprised to find you had left Verella when I came through."

"My pardon, Marshal-General, if that was discourteous. I had not visited Fintha for years and thought I might familiarize myself with the land and the city."

"A tactical talent, then," the Marshal-General said. "I do not blame you; it merely surprised me. And my Marshals, as well, to find the Thieves' Guild so quiet with you gone."

Arvid looked at his nails. "Well," he said. "You have skilled staff...and so, in my way, do I."

"So you arrived here and stayed a night at the Gray Fox...but did not await my arrival to present yourself the next afternoon at the Hall. May I ask why?"

"I had your safe pa.s.sage to show, Marshal-General, and thought again that I would prefer to scout the territory ahead of you. I would not beg more than one night's extra lodging-"

"You knew I would come yesterday? How?"

"A messenger from the grange where you stayed the night before stopped for a mug of ale at the Fox and told the landlord you would be back at Hall the next day. Then, when I arrived here, your people told me the same. But the other reason I came was to warn the Hall of the intended theft of the necklace by a dwarf-a dwarf who was with that gnome. You do know, Marshal-General, that he's kteknik kteknik?"

"Of course," she said. "Go on."

"The dwarf was intent on the theft; the gnome was not, but I thought might be persuaded to it after I left. So I warned your people, and suggested the ruse of putting a single sapphire and some gold in the room where the necklace had lain, and a separate guard on it upstairs somewhere, as far from rock as possible. I said I would remain in the chamber alone, with guards outside, and explained I expected the rockfolk to come through the rock." He paused for a swallow of water. "As they did. But the dwarf had drugged the gnome and then used his rock-magic to rend the rock silently and swiftly. The gnome was unconscious and nearly dead when the dwarf broke through."

"Why didn't you call for help?" the Marshal-General asked.

"I was a fool," Arvid said. "I am not stupid, but a man of wit may outsmart himself, and I did so. Seeing the gnome senseless, and knowing my skill and experience, I thought to disarm the dwarf myself-kill him if I must-and then-" He shook his head. "I knew the guards were spelled-"

"What? You didn't mention that."

"I forgot. Before they broke through, they sent the rock-cold...the spell that makes men tired and cold, their eyes heavy as if pebbles lay on them. I have faced its like before; I stayed awake, but suspected the others slept." He shook his head again. "And for that, and for my pride in swordplay, I caused their deaths, for the dwarf caused the rock to spread across the door. I thought then it was only a single stone's thickness, but the gnome told me later-but let me tell it in order."

"Go ahead," she said again.

Arvid told of the fight, of tending the gnome and the long difficult crawl through the pa.s.sage, of the gnome's claim that since his blade in the dwarf's hand had wounded Arvid, the gnome owed him a great debt.

"I told him that leading me out and tending my wound cleared the debt, but he said no," Arvid said.

"How did the troop find you? There on the hillside?"

"No. I knew I must come back to the city, so we walked-I don't entirely remember until we found a road. It was on the road your people found us. The-Marshal? Knight?-named Pir would have killed me there and then."

"Would he, indeed? That would have been discourteous and unwise." Now she looked dangerous, her face hardening in anger.

"I told him you wanted to hear more of Paksenarrion, and I could be killed just as easily after I talked to you." Arvid drank more water. "I could tell you his idea of what happened-"

"No, I will hear it from him," she said.

Arvid went on with his story, ending with, "I may have a few things out of order there, for truly, with the night and day's exertions and the wound and the heat of the sun, I was not as alert as I prefer to be."

"Um."

"You said students were missing?"

"Two. Did you speak to anyone but Marshal Perin in the School? Any of the students?"

"One boy stuck his head in. I told him I wasn't supposed to talk to students, and he came all the way in."

"Let me guess. That was Baris Arnufson."

"Do you know everyone's name?"

"Don't you know the name of everyone in the Thieves' Guild in Tsaia?"

"A fair question. Yes, that was the boy's name. A right piece of mischief, I thought, but not a bad boy at heart."

"He's gone."

"I didn't take him for a thief," Arvid said. Would that boy have stolen his horse? His pack? "A conniver, yes; he told me he'd persuaded another boy to do a task for him."

"He's not the only one gone. I don't know if they're together, if one followed the other, if it's unrelated..."

"You want my help."

"I wanted your information about Paksenarrion, and hers about the necklace, as you know, but having come home to this, I need most to know if those boys are alone in this or if someone else was involved."

"I don't see Baris as the thief," Arvid said. "This theft has a more adult feel, of someone with experience. And it's someone here, Marshal-General, inside Gird's cordon of righteousness: someone who knew that the necklace was no longer in the cellar, and someone who knew how to maze the guards watching it."

"I was afraid of that," the Marshal-General said.

"The boys-or one boy-may have been gulled into helping, especially if in awe of high-ranking men. Baris is less likely for that role. Or one or both may have seen something inconvenient to the thief and been...silenced."

The Marshal-General paled. "You mean-killed?"

"It's certainly possible. That, or locked away somewhere long enough for the thief to escape. But you will have searched everywhere, I'm sure."

"Not everywhere...Just where we thought boys might hide to escape a cla.s.s or a ch.o.r.e. And then, with the horse gone, and your pack..."