The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 (78 page)

"Yes."

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"And how is it that Jileel knows where you live?"

"Termagant, I swear to you that she does not. You just heard her ask what I'm doing here. She came to warn me without knowing where I was going or where I live." Seeing her lips part, he raised a hand. "Wait. Listen a moment."

He told her about Mignureal, and how she had more than once warned him, as if with a knowledge she could not have. "But did, Termagant, did," he said. "And now Jileel's done it, just like her sister."

She looked surprised, but not as much as she might have. "I know the truth of that about Mignureal," she said. "Her mother told me of it. It is part of the reason I have been interested in Jileel beyond my usual con cern for a blooming young woman of my people. Girl, girl," she cor rected herself, too hurriedly.

Hanse knew she was reminding herself to keep reminding him that Jileel was only a girl. And keep your thieving un-S'danzo paws off 'er, streetboy. he thought, but showed nothing.

"Did what she said to you make sense?"

"As it did with Mignue. Once she just seemed to appear—as Jileel did just now—to warn me to be sure to take the striped bowl. It was true I

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had one, but she had never seen it. It contained lime. If I had not had lime with me that night, I'd have died of Kurd's sorcery."

"Kurd!"

"Another time she bobbed up to warn me to 'take the big red cat.' She had never even seen Notable—this big red cat, here."

"Big, indeed."

"But if I'd not taken him along, I'd have died that night of a Stare-eye snake. A Beysib's, uh . . ."

"Beynit," she supplied. "You do live an exciting life, young m—Hanse. That monster, Kurd. I think I'll just not ask about that occasion. And on neither occasion Mignureal knew where you were going?"

Rather than risk an error in deciphering that question, Hanse nodded. At least he'd blocked an older person's snotty habit of saying "young man" and "young woman" by the trick of calling her "old woman." He said, "Both times she had no idea. And other times, up in Firaqa."

"And tonight

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"I assure you. Termagant, no one knows where I am going. A very bad man tried to have me sold as slave, and I think he has already profited from the sale of many others. I intend to stop him."

"Please . . . would you please say to me her words to you? Jileel's, I mean, tonight."

"Right after you tell me what you are doing here—I mean, did you follow her or go out walking and lose her, or what?"

It took her a moment to digest the fact that he was as demanding as she, even with her. If she found that indigestible, she at least packed it away somewhere in a corner of her craw.

"I was visiting her home. Suddenly she rose and left the room without a word. That is not like her. When we saw her slip out, very hurriedly and cloaked, I counseled her father to silence and I and my two escorts followed her. We followed not as spies, but as protectors, but we did not need to be stealthy; she seemed aware of nothing. She just hurried, hur ried. Now I know why—I suppose. Hers and her sister's powers tran scend even mi-most."

"Spies can be protectors," he said, letting her know that he knew when a person told a little lie, even the Termagant. And he answered her question: "She stared odd, just the way Mignue does. Did. Her voice was
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odd, too, just the way Mignue's was. She said my name two or three times, and warned me to take the knife with the silver blade."

"You have such a knife?"

"I'd show it to you, but I wouldn't want to upset your escorts."

She did not smile, but her eyes did, or nearly. "Now, Hanse . . . can you imagine why such a knife might be of value to you this night?"

420 STEALERS' SKY

"Will be, Termagant, wilt be, ifJileel has the same power as her sister. You know about silver and sorcery."

Her little sigh was almost inaudible, but she let exasperation color her tone. "I know about silver and sorcery, Hanse." He said nothing; she started to speak; suddenly her eyes widened. "Don't tell me this very bad man you mentioned is a sorcerer."

"I hadn't intended to tell you. Termagant." When she stared without speaking, he told her. "He is."

She heaved a sigh, shook her head, glanced over at Jileel, looked back at the youthful man all in snug black.

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"Hanse; A few days ago I referred to your reputation. Perhaps it is a bit more than it should be ... or a bit less . . . well, perhaps those who talk do not know quite all there is to know about this Hanse per son."

"No one does. Termagant, believe me."

"I promise not to try to leam more than you want me to know. Will you come and see me, Hanse?"

"Not tonight!?"

"No, no, not tonight, Hanse. At a reasonable time of day when this night's work is done and you can come and visit me in the next day or three, will you do so?"

"Termagant, I will."

"Good," she said, with an exuberant nod. "Then when you come to see me, Hanse, bring me this." Her long-fingered hands came out from within her cloak, and in an instant she had draped a piece of cord over his neck. Something thumped his chest and he looked down.

He was more than surprised. "You give me an amulet, Termagant?"

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"I loan you a keepsake, Hanse."

"I thank you, I think. Uh—is it all right if I tuck it inside my tunic?"

For once, she chuckled. "Yes, Hanse, that will be all right."

He nodded, one sharp brief bob of his head. "Good. Thank you. I am glad to know that Mignu—that Jileel is in good hands. The Termagant herself, and two big escorts."

For the second time he had made her chuckle, even while she rankled at not having terminated their conversation before he did. A very nervy and decisive young man—and didn't he just love and perhaps live for danger and excitement! No tools or concentration were necessary for her to see that, not her. She well knew that her own abilities were almost equal parts intuition, and observation, and the S'danzo ability.

"Good night, Hanse, and good fortune."

"Notable, we have to be on our way. Good night to you, Termagant, and Jileel, and to you too, you great big pair of escorts, you."

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With tail high Notable moved along beside his human, who almost at once took up his nighttime habit of keeping to shadows and alleys. Nota ble saw quite well in such environs at night, and surely gave no thought to the fact that the black-clad man moved just as unerringly. As a matter of fact Hanse was moving almost without seeing. His brain was busy, working to match Jodeera's information with what had happened to him.

Any city such as Sanctuary had its share of whorehouses; good ones, low ones, and intermediate-True. Sanctuary probably had more than its share, particularly of low and intermediate houses. That described the one owned and operated by Amoli: the Lily Garden was not far from the Maze and yet not within those low and dangerous precincts. Thus it was one of the respectable brothels in the town called Thieves' World. Amoli had been friend to the drug dealer Lastel, who had disappeared. Shadow spawn knew of the tunnel leading from Amoli's house-not-home up to the fine home that had belonged to Lastel and was now owned or at least occupied by Marype the mage. In fact Shadowspawn had made use of that tunnel. His nocturnal visit to Marype's den had saved the life of a client of Strick's; in gratitude the fellow had sold tKe Vulgar Unicorn to Strick at a decent price. Unfortunately that same visit had resulted in Marype's taking vengeance on Thieves' World's thief of thieves. Shadow spawn was sure of that. Yet one aspect of the affair had nagged at his mind: how had Marype known who had been in his lair?

So it was Amoli who sent Tarkle after me. So Tarkle works for her? Or
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she and Tarkle both work for Marype—or she and that slimebag mage are partners or lovers or both. And the moment I visited his house I was brilliant enough to let her know! Damn! Stupid, Hanse, stupid! Two min utes after I left her that night she must've been hustling her hippy self along the tunnel to tell Marypel

"What we ought to do," he muttered, "is shave some of that fat off the bitch and feed it to her!"

"Mmmaw?"

"Hush, Notable, damn it, I told you to be qui—oh. I thought aloud, didn't I?"

Notable made no comment. He was only an unusually large and un usually smart cat, although once he had been a man.

Abruptly his human seemed to disappear, and in some shock the cat had to spend a second or three finding him-He blinked pupils gone huge and round as a pigeon's eggs as he stared up at the lean man in black, who was ascending a brick wall in a way that could have been used as training for frightened kittens. Unfrightened, Notable followed. He was almost as quiet, almost as competent at wall-climbing. Almost.

Shadowspawn paused on a ledge formed by a set-in second floor.
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422 STEALERS' SKY

"Here," he whispered, "you're too slow. Get on my back."

Notable let him know he'd rather just do his own climbing, but he went along. Resentful, he sank his claws well in. Hanse didn't mind; that was the reason he had so recently acquired the padded vest—black. With Notable riding his back without the hint of a purr, Shadowspawn went on up and onto the roof.

Notable might or might not have been capable or willing to make the necessary jump across the long black rectangle that was an alley, but Shadowspawn did not consult the cat. He gathered himself, crouched, measured, shifted to allow for the change in balance caused by the cat's weight on his back. He did reach back with one hand to press and stroke, once, while he murmured a friendly sound. Then he jumped.

Notable made no comment. He just clung, and clung tightly—meaning deeply. Had it not been for the vest, Hanse might well have been wearing several claws to a depth of a foot or so. Again he reached back to give him an encouraging stroke and tried to press his face against Notable's.

Notable moved his head and averted his face.

"Goo-ood Notable," Shadowspawn whispered.
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His miffed rider did not deign to acknowledge those sounds he had come to know and love. He began wriggling, preparing to jump down. Shadowspawn pressed harder.

He murmured, "Just hang on, Notable. See, we cross this roof—uh." He broke off while someone passed on the street or "street" below. "Then we break into a trot an'—"

He jumped again, pouncing more as Notable might have done than in the way of a man. He landed almost noiselessly on another roof with his knees bent nearly up to his chest. This roof sloped and Shadowspawn dropped both hands to it, and pressed. He remained in that position long enough to be sure he was not going to lose footing.

Notable meanwhile drew in all claws, gathering himself, then shot out the rearward ones long enough to leap past this maniacal human's head and onto the roof. He ran right up and stopped only when he was on the ridgepole, which was not so narrow as the pointed-wedge sort. Tail lash ing, he pretended to have been solely interested all along in gnawing a particular place in his coat. He peeped around casually to see Shadow spawn sitting athwart the ridgepole, unraveling a slender and expensive rope from around his waist.

"If you don't climb on me," he muttered over his shoulder, "it'll be a
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lot harder for you to get down."

He followed that with a kissing noise. Notable's tail moved restlessly in indecision but he pretended to have something caught in his paw that needed gnawing out. Another glance showed him that the human had

tethered his line and was letting himself over the edge of the roof. Trot ting along the ridgepole as if it were a broad meadow, the big cat paused to lower his head and stare into Shadowspawn's eyes. Shadowspawn made another kissy noise. Quite delicately for one his size, Notable stepped onto the black-clad shoulder and leaned against the youthful face. He rode down.

Not far. Amoli liked to sun herself, which was why she had caused the little railed balcony to be constructed just outside her window. To her, it was useless at night. Not to Shadowspawn. He whispered, "We're there," and moments later was preparing to enter the darkened room. It was all as simple as that . . .

Except that just as he was about to swing over the sill the door opened from the corridor, and light from ensconced lamps as well as a carried one burst into the room.

"—as soon as we have accumulated enough money from the slave
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business," a voice was saying, and it was the voice of Marype, who was just behind Amoli, who bore the lamp, and in those few words he had told Hanse everything Hanse had wondered about; everything he wanted to know.