Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [129]
“Just an idle wondering,” he said at last. “I heard, of course, that the caravan was coming from Yr Auddglyn. I don’t suppose you were in Marcmwr.”
“I spent a couple of days there. Why?”
For a moment he frowned into his tankard.
“Well, here,” he said at last, “I don’t suppose a silver dagger would have any interest in stealing jewels.”
Jill’s heart thumped once in excitement.
“Not in the least,” she said. “I know we’re all cousins to thieves, but that’s not the same as being a brother.”
“Just so. I heard a bit of interesting news from down Deverry way, you see. A certain fellow was supposed to be riding up into Yr Auddglyn with a cursed large packet of stolen jewelry. He sounds like an utter dolt, by the way. Here he is, trying to pass himself off as a merchant, but his horse has a saddle and bridle fit for a gwerbret—a warrior’s saddle at that.”
Jill did her best to look only mildly interested.
“Now, if the stones are still in Yr Auddglyn,” Ogwern went on, somewhat meditatively, “it’s none of my affair. But some of the lads there were trying to find this so-called merchant, of course, to relieve him of the weight he was carrying. They tracked him to the Aver Lit, and poof! There he vanished. Just like sorcery!”
“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