Authors: Alexey Pehov
“Be patient, thief,” said Alistan Markauz, who was standing at the window. “We’ll start as soon as Kli-Kli gets here…”
“Kli-Kli’s already here. You can start, Your Grace!” The jester slipped in through the door, winked at me, and sat down on the bed. He was relaxed now, playing the fool, nothing like the lad sitting at the table downstairs who had suddenly tensed up when he heard my innocent phrase about the House of Power.
“Well now … I didn’t talk about this downstairs, your friend is there, Harold.”
“I think he should be locked up for the time being,” Egrassa said with a glint of his fangs. “It’s ridiculous that we should suffer the inconvenience of hiding in our own home.”
“Everyone else already knows the news, so you and the Garrakian are the only ones left,” Alistan Markauz continued, although it was clear that he shared the elf’s opinion concerning Bass. “Ah, and here he is…”
Eel entered the room silently, nodded politely, and froze, leaning back against the upright of the door frame in a pose that reminded me of a statue from the beginning of the Age of Dreams.
With this latest arrival, the small room suddenly felt rather crowded.
“We have found out who owns the estate and where the Key is,” Markauz said sternly, turning away from the window.
“Are you sure that it’s still there?”
“It is in the city,” the elfess answered for him.
“I beg your pardon, Tresh Miralissa, but how can you be sure of that?”
“I applied the bonds to the Key. I can sense it. If it was not in the city … But then you should sense it, too, as the one to whom the Key is bound.”
“You must be mistaken, I don’t feel anything apart from fatigue and the need to sleep,” I muttered discontentedly.
“It’s just that you’re as thick-skinned as a herd of mammoths, Harold!” said Kli-Kli, taunting me as usual.
“Perhaps it’s not there yet, but it will come. Especially when you find yourself close to the artifact. It’s like a kind of itch. And the house where they are hiding it belongs to Count Balistan Pargaid.”
When the elfess said that, Milord Markauz glared at me, as if he was expecting some kind of immediate response.
“So?” I asked stupidly.
Kli-Kli grabbed hold of his head in despair and started groaning as if all his teeth were aching.
“Harold, you’ve locked yourself away in your own little world and you can’t see further than your own nose!” the goblin said. “Count Balistan Pargaid is the most influential individual in the south of Valiostr. The antiquity of his family line rivals the Stalkon dynasty, not to mention the fact that he is the leader of all the Nightingales and a very, very dangerous character. He is no ardent admirer of our king. He keeps a low profile, but give him a chance, and the Pargaids will advance their claim to the throne. And believe me, they have a serious right to that claim. Now that we know Pargaid is conspiring with the Master, I am doubly afraid for the king’s welfare.”
“Pargaid and his standard-bearers can put up eight thousand swordsmen, not counting all sorts of other petty riffraff. A force like that has to be taken seriously,” Alistan rumbled.
It was obvious that he was not fond of Pargaid. But what is the love of a nobleman worth, anyway? They’re always squabbling over land, sticking daggers in each other, slipping poison into each other’s drinks, and then the simple soldiers are the ones who have to bear the consequences.
“His lands extend from here almost as far as the oaks of Zagraba, and as for gold…”
“All right. So we’ve found out who the estate belongs to. Now what are we going to do?” I asked, looking at Alistan.
He tugged on his mustache and answered reluctantly. “I don’t think there’s any way we can simply break into his house. Without a map of the patrols and without knowing exactly where the Key is … it would be suicide. The Nightingales’ guards will be on the alert. It’s a big house, and you won’t be able to run round all the rooms. The risk is too great.”
“You’re absolutely right, milord. There’s no simple way to get in there, and if we do get in, we need to know exactly where the artifact is.”
“Kli-Kli has suggested a plan of how we can infiltrate the count’s house.”
Kli-Kli? Has suggested? A plan? I glared at the goblin in astonishment.
“Well?” he asked testily. “Do you think I’m incapable of proposing a brilliant plan?”
“You’re capable all right,” I said, making no attempt to argue. “Only I have absolutely no doubt that your brilliant plan will lead us all straight to the graveyard.”
“All right, Harold. It’s not a brilliant plan, just a few bright ideas from a goblin. So where was I now? It’s no secret that the day after tomorrow Count Balistan Pargaid is holding his annual reception in honor of the great victory of the Nightingales over the Wild Boars two centuries ago. And we have a genuine chance of getting into the festivities—”
“I beg your pardon, Kli-Kli,” Eel put in. “But I find it hard to believe that we will be allowed into the Nightingales’ holy of holies for a polite how-do-you-do.”
“Don’t worry, Tight-Lip. They’ll let us in, all right. Not only will they let us in, they’ll actually invite us themselves! Balistan Pargaid is well known as a dedicated collector of antiquities, and that will be very helpful to us.”
“Kli-Kli, have you really got some rare old book of your grandfather’s stuck in your back pocket?” I asked provocatively.
“You’re a fool, Harold. Show him, Lady Miralissa.”
Without saying a word, the elfess handed me a bracelet. I turned it over in my hands, studying it carefully. Black steel, crudely forged, runes, writing in what I thought was ogric.
“Is this really what I think it is?” I asked, looking up at Miralissa.
“I’m not a mind reader, Harold.” For a fleeting moment the black lips curved into a smile. “Yes, it is very valuable. The bracelet was forged by the ogres in the times before they withdrew into the Desolate Lands.”
Yes, that was it. A piece of ordinary metal, not even a single ounce of precious metal, but the antiquity of the item, and the fact that it was one of the very few artifacts still surviving after the ogres, made it worth two or three hundred gold pieces. Serious money. Especially for someone in my profession.
“So we buy our pass into the house with this?” I asked the goblin.
“We’ve already bought it! While you were resting on that soft straw, we weren’t just sitting about doing nothing. Count Balistan Pargaid has already been informed that this rare piece is in the city and he has politely forwarded an invitation for the Duke Ganet Shagor to attend his modest reception, and to bring his valuable treasure with him.”
“Mmmm…,” I murmured. “I don’t quite catch the connection between us and this duke.”
“The connection’s absolutely direct, Harold,” Kli-Kli said, looking at me with a mocking smile. “Duke Ganet Shagor is none other than yourself, in person!”
That was the moment when I realized I was going to strangle the little blackguard for his stupid bright little ideas.
“Kli-Kli,” I said, trying to speak in a quiet, ingratiating voice. “My friend, did you have too many magic mushrooms for breakfast again? What sort of duke will I make?”
“The perfect kind. You want to get into Pargaid’s house? Then you’ll be a duke,” the jester snapped back.
“I don’t know how to be a duke!” I exploded. “I’m a thief! A thief, not a nobleman and a high society peacock! Couldn’t you find anyone else for the job?”
“Who do you suggest, Harold?” Miralissa asked. “The Wild Hearts will not do, they are warriors. Anybody would recognize them as simple men straightaway. Milord Alistan cannot do it, he is known at court. Who does that leave? Only you.”
“Why does it have to be a duke, why not an elfess or a miserly dwarf?”
“Because news about the collector has already spread through the city, and the collector is a man.”
“But I don’t know all those stupid noblemen’s rules—etiquette and all that high society stuff! I’ll be spotted in the first five seconds!”
“Oh, Harold, don’t make me laugh!” said Kli-Kli, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs to and fro jauntily. “Do you think those idle spongers will understand anything? You’re a duke now, not just some lousy little marquis. Just put on your usual gloomy face, and no one will even come near you or ask you any questions. Just be haughty, cold, and smug, like Master Quidd’s turkey cock, that’s all!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, shaking my head. “This is a wild gamble.”
“Our entire journey to Hrad Spein is a gamble,” the jester said in a serious voice. “We have two days. I’m going to try to teach you something in that time. And I’ll tell you your life story.”
“Are dukes as thick in our kingdom as flies on rotten meat? Kli-Kli, fear the gods! Everyone knows who all the dukes are! Where are you going to get another one from? Overseas? With my accent even a Doralissian could tell that I’ve lived in Valiostr all my life!”
“Now, don’t get so excited! There is one duke, the king’s second cousin via one of his grandmothers. He’s an eccentric, he lives like a hermit and hasn’t left his castle for twenty years, so no one will recognize you as an imposter.”
“But there are—”
“If I say no one, that means no one. Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you, and if anything happens—”
“No!” I snapped.
“No what?”
“No. You won’t be there with me!”
“And why’s that?”
“Kli-Kli, you’re a walking disaster with two skinny little legs! If you go with me, we’ll definitely never get out alive!”
“I’m going with you, Dancer in the Shadows, that has already been decided. And in any case you’ll need a retinue and prompter. In case you didn’t know, dukes don’t go out visiting all on their own.”
“A fine retinue! A little green fool!”
“Precisely, a fool, you fool! Who’s going to take any notice of you when a jester appears in the house?”
Hmm? Well, I had to admit to myself that the goblin was talking sense there—if he pulled a couple of his rotten tricks, everybody would be keeping their eyes on him.
“They could recognize you as the king’s jester.”
“No chance!” he retorted. “The chances of meeting a familiar face among the Nightingales are very slim. And anyway, all goblins look the same to you humans. It will all go off perfectly, no one will suspect a thing. Master Quidd has already obtained garments appropriate for the occasion. You will be accompanied by Egrassa. And the other six lads, as a guard of honor.”
“I’m sorry, but any child could see through your plan! I don’t look like a nobleman, I don’t look like a duke, and no matter what you say, a single question about heraldry, and the truth will be obvious! I swear by Sagot, this will be a disaster! We’d do better to risk breaking into the house! I repeat, goblin, we have absolutely no chance.”
“Not only do we have no chance, we have no choice, either,” the goblin sighed. “Or do you have some other duke in mind?”
“I do,” Eel said unexpectedly.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“You can’t be a duke!” Kli-Kli objected after a pause. “You’re a Garrakian! And Ganet Shagor isn’t!”
“I can help with that,” Miralissa put in. “Applying a different likeness is hard, but it’s worth trying, and after all, Eel really does look more like a nobleman. What do you say, Eel?”
“I think I can play the role of a nobleman successfully, my lady,” the Garrakian said dispassionately.
I gave a sigh of relief and nodded gratefully.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Harold,” Kli-Kli said with a menacing frown. “You’ll still have to go to the reception.”
“Kli-Kli is right,” Miralissa confirmed. “You’re the only one who can sense where they are hiding the Key.”
“But Lady Miralissa, you said you could sense that the Key was in Ranneng.”
“I can tell that it is in Ranneng, but only you can point out the precise spot.”
I sighed. “During a reception, servants wait outside for their masters.”
“Yes, and that’s why you will not be a servant.” The goblin’s blue eyes glowed in triumph. I was afraid even to ask what brilliant ideas the fool had gotten into his little green head this time.
When he realized that I wasn’t going to ask who he wanted to turn me into now, Kli-Kli said: “We’ll make you a dralan.”
“Kli-Kli, all the high-society people will have steam coming out of their ears if he has a dralan with him.”
It’s no secret that those who once used to root about in the mud and now bear a noble title are not much liked by those who inherited their titles from their noble forebears.
“That will only make everything all the more amusing.” The little green fool will do anything for the sake of amusement.
“What do we have to do at the reception?” I asked, bowing to the inevitable.
“Drink sparkling wine, eat pheasants, and make intelligent conversation about the weather.”
“Not that, Kli-Kli! What do we really have to do?”
“You have to try to find out where Pargaid is hiding the Key. Don’t worry, Miralissa says that as soon as you’re close enough, you’ll feel your connection with it.”