Elaine Cunningham - Honor Among Thieves

The more Honor thought about this, the more likely itseemed.

There was, of course, one other possibility:

Rhendish was lying to her because he wanted the Thornfor himself. What better way to learn of its power than placing itin the hands of an elf he so obviously controlled?

And if he was lying about this, what else might he bekeeping from her?

She turned off the street and walled through the archleading into a city park, one of the small green spaces that dottedthe city. Perhaps standing under the shade of these trees wouldlend her a moment of peace and clarity.

The tumult of her thoughts began to wane as shewalked along the paths. A lone songbird called from a butternuttree. She stopped and whistled back the little fragment of melody.The bird flitted down to a lower branch and hopped closer, itslittle head tipped inquisitively to one side.

She held out one hand and repeated the bird’s call.Tiny black eyes regarded her as if taking her measure. Honor calledagain. The bird leaped into the air and winged off toward the farend of the park.

Honor stood in stunned silence. No forest bird hadever fled from her before.

“Have you city birds forgotten the elves?” she saidsoftly. “Or has Rhendish changed me beyond recognition?”

She headed toward a small man-made pond, halfwondering if the reflection in it would be familiar. A stand ofmeadow flowers near the pond caught her eye. She moved over for acloser look.

Most of the flowers were yellow and blue blossomscommon to the northland meadows. A pang of remorse struck Honor asshe remembered the sprite Rhendish had forced her to kill. Sheglanced down at the palm of her sword hand, half expecting to seeit stained with gold and blue dust from tiny crushed wings.

Honor pushed this thought aside. Some instinct haddrawn her to the meadow flowers. She closed her eyes and stilledher mind.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell upon a patchof wild carrots. The large, lacy white flowers swayed on delicatestalks longer than Honor’s arm.

A light began to dawn in the back of Honor’s mind.She didn’t dare hope that the idea taking shape would gain her herfreedom, but it might enable her to do her duty.

She stooped and snapped off several of the flowersnear the base of the stem. Bouquet in hand, she headed toward theFox Den, and the fey-touched madman who might become her mostvaluable ally.

Fox sat on the edge of Avidan’s worktable, eyeing avase of meadow flowers with a mixture of curiosity and concern.That the alchemist would keep a bouquet of wild carrot blossoms inhis workroom was strange enough. His motivation for keeping them inblood red liquid was something Fox didn’t care to contemplate.Whatever the reason, the color had worked its way up the narrowstems, dying the lacy white blossoms a deep shade of rose.

The alchemist sprinkled a handful of green crystalsinto a bowl of water and attacked them with a whisk. Crystals brokeapart, sending blood-red streaks swirling through the water.

Fox was beginning to sense a disturbing theme.

“Should I be worried about that concoction?”

“It stings a little, if that’s a concern,” Avidansaid without looking up from his work. “This is an aqueous solutionof mercury. It prevents wounds from going septic.”

The alchemist’s tone was confident and his movementsprecise and practiced. At moments like this, Fox could envisionAvidan leading a successful foray into Muldonny’s mansion. Theywould walk in through the well-guarded gates without a qualm,Avidan would discourse learnedly with the adept, Fox would switchthe daggers, and they’d be back on Sevrin’s main island before thetaverns opened.

“The mercury solution is also effective in earlystages of the pox,” Avidan said. “Naturally, it must be applieddirectly to the site of initial contact.”

This image effectively dispelled Fox’s optimisticdaydream. “That’s more information than I need.”

“I have heard, however, that some women find thebright orange color a bit off-putting.”

“To say nothing of the pox,” Fox muttered.

“Of course, you’ll need a larger codpiece toaccommodate the bandages.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

Avidan lifted the bowl. “Are you sure? I haveextra.”

The thief sighed. “Let’s just get this done.”

The alchemist dipped a cloth into the bowl andclucked like a brooding hen as he dabbed rust-colored solution ontoFox’s forehead.

“What did you do to anger her?”

“Who?”

“The fairy, of course.”

Fox’s laughter was cut short by a stab of pain fromhis split lip. He winced and prodded at it with one finger.

“Vishni didn’t do this.”

“If you say so.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but realized thealchemist was probably more right than wrong.

“I will go alone to meet with Vishni and thealchemist whose place I am to take,” Avidan said.

The combined weight of everything that could go wrongwith that plan hit Fox like a fist to the gut. “That’s notnecessary.”

Avidan reached for a polished metal tray and held itin front of Fox’s face. The thief grimaced at the reflectedimage.

“It’s necessary,” Avidan said. “You cannot walk intoa fest hall looking as you do. Since there is no crime in Sevrin,people might wonder how you found yourself on the wrong side of abrawl. You can stay with Delgar and help our new friend return tohis lodgings.”

Fox accepted this with a nod. Playing the role of acharming courtesan should offer Vishni enough diversion to keep herattention from straying. And if it did not, they had a reliableescape route in place.

“Just so you know, I’m not letting you walk intoMuldonny’s alone.”

“I will make unguents to darken your skin and hidemost of the damage to your face. In the meanwhile, this willhelp.”

Avidan reached into a metal box and removed a cube ofraw meat. A droplet of blood splashed onto the alchemist’sworktable.

Fox leaned away from the offered tidbit. “Nothanks.”

“Are you sure? Vishni stole this from the butcher onRedcloak Street. He has an ice house. It’s good and cold.”

“I’ve already eaten.”

The alchemist’s lip curled in disgust. “You’re notsupposed to eat it. You’re supposed to put it on your black eye.The cold will bring down the swelling.”

“Why didn’t she just steal some ice? Wouldn’t thatwork as well?”

“Better,” Avidan said. “But there is very little foodvalue in ice.”

Fox started to respond, decided it wasn’t worth it,and hopped off the table. He took the cube of raw steak and pressedit to his swollen eye as he left for saner regions. The remedymight be disgusting, but he found it surprisingly soothing.

The gathering room with its ever-shifting mirror wasempty. Fox slumped into a chair and stared at an image of pale sandcurling around an inlet of bright turquoise sea.

Since he was alone, he had no need to temper hisfascination with the mirror. He devoured images of woodlandwaterfalls, distant cities glimpsed from mountaintops, painteddeserts. His favorite scene showed him a single wolf silhouettedagainst a rising moon, muzzle lifted in song.

There had been no wolves on the islands of Sevrin fora hundred generations. No one who lived in Sevrin could hope to seea wolf.

No one who lived in Sevrin could hope to see manythings.

Fox’s sigh came from the depths of his soul. None ofhis friends, not even Delgar, knew of his longing for distantplaces. But his work was here. So was his mother, even if she nolonger knew him.

He suddenly remembered the locket she’d handed himdays earlier. A quick pat-down of his pockets yielded nothing but astab of panic.

The green tunic he wore for his Gatherer disguisecame to mind. He tossed the meat into the hearth and hurried to thelittle stone-walled room where he slept and stored his things.