Katharine Kerr - Darkspell

“Aha, and so you’re wondering if perhaps he’s come into your territory. He must have been carrying some valuable things indeed if every thief in the kingdom was keeping track of him.”

“Very valuable. They say the stones belonged to the king himself.”

“Now, here, how could anyone steal from the king?”

“A good question, silver dagger, a very good question indeed. I’m only repeating what I’ve heard. But one of these gems is a ruby as big as your thumbnail. Do you know what a gem like that would be worth? And then there’s supposed to be an opal the size of a walnut. Now, usually an opal’s not worth as much as other gems, but one that size is rare enough to cost a fortune.”

“No doubt. I did hear someone talking about a sapphire ring when I was in Marcmwr. Do you think it’s part of the same hoard?”

“Could well be.” Ogwern’s eyes gleamed bright from folds of flesh. “What did you hear?”

“Well, it was supposed to be cursed.” Jill was thinking fast, trying to put talk of dweomer-stones into terms he could understand. “It sent thoughts to your mind, they said. And there was something about the way it looked—ah, I remember. Sometimes it looked really dull, like a bit of rock, and then other times it would be all shiny.”

“Now, listen, never mock cursed gems. I’ve handled many a stone in my fat but precious life, and you’d be surprised at the kind of power some of them have. A truly fine gem has a life of its own. Why do you think men covet them so much?” He paused, drumming his fingertips on the table. “A cursed gem, huh? That might explain somewhat. A couple of lads down in Deverry did make a try on this fellow, but they both came to bad ends doing it. One fell to his death from a high window, trying to climb in, just like someone pushed him, said his partner. I don’t know what happened to the other.”

“ The bad Wildfolk tripped him and sent him into a river. ” Jill nearly yelped aloud.

“Is somewhat wrong?” Ogwern said sharply. “You look pale.”

“Oh, naught, naught. I’m still tired from my long ride.”

By then the tavern was filling up. A few at a time, nondescript young men slipped in the door, got tankards of ale, and stood together quietly in the shadows. Most of them, judging from the reek of tallow and tanning hides, were honest enough apprentices, having a tankard while their masters’ wives called them to dinner. Others, however, watched with great interest while, at the hearth, the skinny innkeep slipped roast chickens off a spit.

“Stay and have dinner,” Ogwern said to Jill. “The food here is a blasted sight better than at the Running Fox. The kitchen lass there has been known to pick her nose while stirring the stew.”

The food was indeed a good bit better than Jill would have guessed. The innkeep brought her a trencher with half a bird and some fresh bread, and one for Ogwern with a whole fowl and a loaf. After some while the warty young man whom Jill had caught slipped in. Ogwern waved him over with an imperious flick of a chicken leg.

“Jill, this is my son, indeed my only child, alas, alack, and suchlike.” He turned to the lad. “Bocc, this is Jill. I trust there’s no ill will between you?”

“None on my part,” Jill said.

“And none on mine.” Bocc made her a small bow.

Jill considered him carefully. Although he was as lean as his father was fat, she could see the resemblance, particularly in the shape of their tiny eyes and the tilt of their noses. Bocc leaned over and helped himself to a chunk of Ogwern’s chicken.

“Here, Jill,” Bocc said. “Since you’ve been over in Yr Auddglyn—”

“We’ve been discussing that,” Ogwern broke in. “She—”

Someone knocked loud and hard on the door. As the innkeep hurried over, some of the lads moved closer to the windows. The innkeep peered out and shook his head. Everyone relaxed.

“It’s not the wardens, you see,” Ogwern whispered to Jill.

The innkeep stepped back, admitting a tall, broad-shouldered man in plain gray brigga and a sweat-stained shirt, pulled in by a heavy sword belt with an expensive-looking scabbard and sword. The easy, controlled way he moved told her that he knew how to swing his blade, too. When he strode over to Ogwern’s table, Bocc hastily moved out of his way. Jill could understand his reaction. She’d never seen eyes like this blond stranger’s before, ice-blue, utterly cold, utterly driven, as if he’d looked on so many sickening things that there was naught left to him but to see the world with contempt. Hardly thinking, she laid her hand on her sword hilt. When the stranger caught the gesture, he smiled, a thin twitch of his lips.

“Er, good eve,” Ogwern said. “I take it you wish to speak to me?”

“Perhaps. It depends on what this silver dagger has to say.”

His voice was not particularly unpleasant, merely cold and dry, but Jill shivered when he turned to her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, good sir,” she said.

“We haven’t. But I understand you’re carrying a stolen jewel. I’ll pay you for it in gold.”

Jill was aware of Ogwern watching in amused surprise, as if thinking she’d duped him earlier.

“You’re wrong,” Jill said. “I don’t have any jewels for sale. What do you think I have?”

“An opal. A rather big opal. I know you thieves haggle, but I promise you I’ll pay a good bit more than any midnight jeweler. It’s in that pouch around your neck. Get it out.”

“If I had this opal, I’d sell it to you.” Jill felt another force put words in her mouth. “But the only piece of jewelry I have is a ring brooch.”

The stranger’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. Jill brought out the pouch, opened it, and took out—a ring brooch, just as she’d known would be there, a rather plain brass one, at that, set with glass for want of gems, but strangely light in weight for its size.

“Don’t trifle with me, lass,” the stranger snarled.

“I swear to you, this is the only piece of jewelry I own.”

The stranger leaned onto the table and stared directly into her eyes. His glance pierced her in a way that reminded her of Nevyn, as if he were boring into her very soul.

“Is that truly the only piece of jewelry you own?”

“It is.” She found it very hard to speak. “It’s the only piece I have.”

His eyes seemed to darken, and she felt then that he was trying to go even deeper into her soul. With a wrench of will she broke away, tossing her head and taking up her tankard, ready to heave it at him if he tried tricks on her again. The stranger set his hands on his hips and looked around, honestly baffled.

“Now, what is all this?” Ogwern snapped. “Jill’s telling you the truth.”

“I know that, hog fat! Do you have the stone? Do you know where it is?”

“What stone?” Ogwern laid down his chicken leg and wiped his hands on his shirt. Jill saw the little gleam that meant he’d palmed a dagger. “Now, here, you can’t come blustering into an honest inn like this. Kindly state your business, and we’ll see if we can help you.”

The stranger hesitated, spitting Ogwern with his glance.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I’m in the market for a particular opal, as big as a walnut but perfectly polished. Now don’t try to tell me you haven’t heard of it. These things spread around.”

“So they do, and I won’t lie to you. The last I heard, it was in Yr Auddglyn. If it was anywhere in Cwm Pecl, I’d know, and it’s not. I wouldn’t mind having a look at it myself.”

Again the stranger hesitated, glancing round him with his driven eyes. For all that he was keeping himself tightly under control, Jill could feel the trace of fear in him, feel it so clearly that she knew he’d made some kind of bond between them when he’d stared into her eyes. She felt as revolted as if she’d reached into a nest of spiders.