Elaine Cunningham - Honor Among Thieves

The dwarves eyed him for a moment before respondingwith curt nods. They gathered up their tools and disappeared into anarrow side tunnel.

Among elves, such behavior would be seen as beyondrudeness and well into the realm of mutiny, but Honor knew theStone Folk’s ways well enough to recognize the deference they paidthe young dwarf.

The Carmot dwarves, like most of the other Old Races,put great store in their ancestry, but dwarves of common birth andexceptional talent were known to attract fame and followers.

Honor had no idea what Delgar’s lineage might be, buthe possessed gifts that could inspire other dwarves to take uptools, and perhaps weapons, at his direction. That made him useful,but it also made him dangerous.

She watched as Delgar moved into the tunnel openingand placed one hand on either wall. He closed his eyes and began tosing.

The song started out as a pleasant bass chant, butthe melody descended until the notes sank beyond the reach ofHonor’s hearing. She could still feel them, though. Deep vibrationshummed through the stone and echoed in her bones.

A thin, irregularly shaped layer of stone peeled awayfrom the wall near the tunnel. Delgar caught it as it started tofall forward and moved it over the tunnel opening. It fit as snuglyas a peel fits an apple.

Honor ran her fingers over the place where the tunneldoor once stood. The rock wall was seamless. If she hadn’t seenDelgar hide the tunnel, she would never suspect it was there. Theyoung dwarf’s skill at stoneshifting was nothing short ofastonishing.

“You didn’t tell them about the Thorn,” Honorsaid.

Delgar sank down on a boulder and wiped his sleeveacross his face. “If I had, they would have dug through a livevolcano to get to it.”

The elf sat down beside him. “How is it,” she saidhesitantly, “that someone of your ability cannot sense the dagger’spresence? That much carmite should be drawing you to it like aloadstone draws iron fillings.”

“Several possibilities come to mind,” the dwarf said.“Top of the list: Muldonny doesn’t have the Thorn.”

“It was stolen from my people. He bought it from thethieves.”

“You’re sure of this.”

“They confessed it before they died.”

This was not exactly what Rhendish had said, butHonor suspected her version lay closer to the truth.

Delgar accepted it with a nod. Dwarves, like elves,had pragmatic views on how to deal with enemies and thieves.

“Second, he’s keeping it somewhere else.”

“That’s a possibility,” Honor said, “but what placewould be as secure as the fortress that has successfully guardedthe entrance to Sevrin for a dozen human lifetimes?”

“True. The third possibility is that he has castmagic to hide its presence, same as you elves do.”

“He’s an adept. They don’t use magic.”

“That’s what they say. That might even be what theybelieve. But some of the things they make are magic by anothername, and no one can tell me differently.”

Honor saw no reason to dispute this. “So Muldonny hascreated an area filled with some sort of alchemical energy thatdisguises the Thorn’s powers.”

“That would be my guess.”

“Which would mean he knows more about the Thorn thanany human should.”

Delgar muttered a curse. “I hadn’t thought it inthose terms.” He scrubbed both hands over his face, then sent her asmall, rueful smile. “To be honest, I don’t like the idea of elvesholding onto so much carmite, but at least you people have thesense not to use it. I’ve yet to meet a well-informed human whocould resist acting on his knowledge.”

“Time is short.”

“Very.” He paused for a thin smile. “But thanks fornot adding ‘and so are you.’”

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why would I dothat?”

“Why indeed? Apparently I’ve been spending too muchtime around humans. So, what do you propose we do next?”

She considered their options in light of these newpossibilities. “Have you ever seen the Thorn?”

Delgar huffed. “Yes, the elves gladly lend it to mypeople whenever we can’t be bothered moving vast quantities ofstone around by hand.”

“Oddly enough, I’m in no mood for sarcasm.”

“Do you prefer irony? Because any dwarf I’ve ever metwould see plenty of that in this little rescue mission.”

She supposed he had a point. Most dwarves believedthe carmite in the Thorn had been stolen from one of their ancienttroves.

An idea began to take shape. “Can you work in glass?If you had to, could you create a credible glass weapon?”

He shot her a quick, insulted glance. “That’s thefirst crafting skill a Carmot learns, as well you know.”

“So if I drew the Thorn, you could make a copy. Areplica done in glass rather than crystal.”

The dwarf shifted to face her. “What are youthinking?”

“We get someone inside the adept’s manor to steal theThorn and replace it with a glass replica. Fox could do this?”

Delgar huffed a short laugh. “I doubt there’s astronghold in Sevrin that could keep him out. But Muldonny’s notlike Rhendish. He doesn’t take students and receives no tradesmen.Only his clockwork servants come and go, and a few invitedguests.”

“Then we shall have to intercept an invitation.”

“His guests are all alchemists.”

“We could send Avidan.”

“ Avidan ?”

“Why not? He’s an alchemist.”

“He’s. . less reliable than you apparentlybelieve,” Delgar said with careful diplomacy. “And he hasn’t leftthe tunnels once since we found him in the mirror room. That wasthree, maybe four years ago. There’s no telling how he’d react inthe outside world.”

“Is there anyone else among you who could pass as analchemist long enough to get the information we need?”

Delgar’s silence was sufficient answer.

“If you think it might help, someone can go with himto help keep him focused on the task at hand. The humans of Sevrinseem to take servants with them wherever they go.”

“That might work,” Delgar said. “Fox seldom works onStormwall Island. There are only a few people looking for himthere. Of course, there are fewer people in general. It’s harder toblend into a crowd.”

“Fairies are generally quite skilled at illusions.Perhaps Vishni-”

“No,” Delgar said emphatically.

“No?”

“Imagine the last person you’d want to take alongwhen you’re exploring an adept’s lair, then put that name on alist. Vishni’s name would be three lines south of it.”

His reaction confirmed Honor’s growing suspicionsabout the fairy. “So Vishni is not to be trusted.”

“Oh, you can trust Vishni,” he said. “The problem is,you can trust her to ‘improve the story.’ And I suspect you’veheard enough fairy tales to guess how that generally turnsout.”

“Then why do you keep her around?”

Delgar’s smile held a bitter twist. “Every storyneeds a hero. Fairy tales tend to be twisty, but the hero usuallywins. And Vishni sees Fox as an ‘archetype,’ the young tricksterhero who gets the better of wizards and lords with his nativecunning.”

“And if she changes her mind about Fox?”

“Then we’re all fuggled,” the dwarf said bluntly.“Sideways.”

Vishni and Fox strolled alongside the shores ofStormwall Island. The sun was warm, the day was summer-ripe, andthe cherry ice Fox had bought her from a street vendor tasted likestolen kisses. Best of all, the story unfolding around her promisedenough twists and corners to warrant inclusion in The Book ofVishni’s Exile .

All of this should have made the fairy giddy withdelight. Instead, her mood darkened with each step.

She still smarted from yesterday’s encounter with theelf, from the tips of her blistered fingers to the depths of herpride.