Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [72]
“I would sit with you, but not drink; I have had what I can hold, and still do what needs doing this night.”
Arvid felt the tension rise; the two nodded, however, and he pulled the chair from his own table to theirs. “You heard us speak of a necklace,” the gnome said. “You have knowledge of it?”
“Little,” Arvid said. “That lair was full of things, large and small, valuable and worthless. I found it; I gave it to her.”
“Her. The paladin?”
“Yes; she was but a mercenary then.”
“Why? Were you besotted?”
“It was a whim,” Arvid said. He leaned back in his chair. “Clear to see she’d been born poor, and a mercenary doesn’t make much. Yet she came with treasure, and no word from her mouth to explain it. Not the treasure that comes from looting burning citadels in the south. The money changer in Brewersbridge wouldn’t talk, and I had my task there anyway, no time to put hot wires to his fingers. But from one of his servants, who liked mulled wine, I heard enough to know the treasure was old and varied, from deep in some cave, mayhap. Yet she was such a simple girl, happy with a full belly of the plainest food, comfortable with woodsmen and smiths and the like more than with the worthies of the town. Made friends with the innkeeper’s daughter. I thought I’d see what a pretty necklace given as a gift would do for her. Would she change?”
“Where exactly did you find it?” the gnome asked.
“The thing that ruled there had it,” Arvid said. “When it died, and everyone else was keening over the dead yeoman-marshal, I explored the private chambers. The thing was dead; the hoard was surely stolen goods, but we had been granted the right to the value of what we brought out, less a tax to the town. I confess—” Arvid chuckled at this. “—I did not declare the necklace, nor have it valued; I don’t know if Paks did. She had an almost gnomish attachment to law.” He winked at the gnome. “Stronger than yours.”
“I am—” The gnome stopped, confused.
“You are a kteknik,” Arvid said blandly. “I have met your like before. Do not worry; I feel no need to share this knowledge with others of my kind.”
“We know where Paksenarrion’s treasure came from,” the dwarf said. “Would you ask that?”
“I know already,” Arvid said, “and do not need to ask. It is no great secret, though the location of the elfane taig is not certainly known to my informants.”
“It is to me,” the dwarf said. “But we do not go there.” He paused, as the serving maid reappeared with a platter and picked up their used dishes. Another appeared with bowls of custard.
“Have the Sinyi moved back in, do you know?” Arvid asked, when she had left and the two rockbrothers had begun to eat.
“Oh, yes,” said the gnome, his voice now bitter. “They say they are cleansing the hall and we will all be invited when it is done—the Elder Folk, that is. They denied my prince’s request to send a delegation to search for any kapristi bodies, and said they would bring them to us if they found any.” He spat a small bone onto the floor.
“Ungracious,” Arvid murmured. “You were involved, were you not, in its construction?”
“In small ways only,” the gnome said. He glanced at the dwarf.
“We assayed the stone,” the dwarf said. “Declared it suitable; it was a …” He paused, then went on. “An agreement was reached between dwarf and elf, for the stone-right—”
“It was not a fair exchange,” the gnome muttered.
“It was not your stone,” the dwarf said. “It was ours—the king’s to give, if he chose, but he chose to trade.”
“Stone belongs to us,” the gnome said. “As Sertig wrought, so it should be: the rockfolk to the bones of the earth, the singers to the trees above.”
“Are you saying the king had no right—?”
“I am saying no prince would have so abused Sertig’s gift,” the gnome said. “And for a female to rule—”
Arvid cleared his throat; the rockfolk looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Rockbrothers, I am not of your kind, though I speak your language, and would not choose to hear that which might displease you later to know had been heard.