Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [77]
"Where did you get that?"
Hasheth jolted. He had not heard Achnib's approach, so intent was he upon his study of the coin. The scribe pounced on him like a hunting cat and tore the coin from his hand.
"This bears Lord Hhune's mark. Where did you get this?" the man demanded in an accusing voice.
"At the Purple Minotaur," Hasheth said, honestly enough. The mere mention of Zazesspur's most luxurious inn set the scribe back on his heels and stole some of the indignation from his face. In fact, Achnib looked so nonplused that Hasheth could not resist the urge to continue.
"As you no doubt know, Lord Hhune engaged the services of assassins to rid the city of a suspected Harper agent. Two of these assassins were slain at the inn where their mark resided; one of them carried this coin. Since the hired man failed at his assigned task, I took the liberty of removing the coin from his body so that I might return to it Lord Hhune. If you wish to check out the particulars," Hasheth continued in a casual voice, "the chatelaine of the Minotaur will happily vouchsafe my tale. You might also wander by the assassins' guild-house, if you like."
The scribe's eyes narrowed, for Hasheth's seemingly innocent words held a triple insult. First, Achnib did not know of this matter, and the fact that Hasheth did placed him subtly higher in the hierarchy surrounding Lord Hhune. Secondly, since Achnib was neither wealthy nor well-born, he would not find a welcome, much less the offer of information, from the lofty chatelaine of the exclusive Purple Minotaur. And finally, an invitation to stop by the assassins' guildhouse was tantamount to wishing a person dead. Yet since Hasheth himself had briefly tasted the assassin's path and had lived to speak of this adventure, he could mask this curse in the garb of a casual, if boastful, suggestion. Even so, it was beyond bearing!
"Hhune will hear of this," the scribe warned.
Hasheth inclined his head in a parody of gratitude. "You are kind, to offer to speak of me to my Lord Hhune. I had planned to give him the coin myself, not wishing to trouble you with matters outside of your duties, but of course it is better so. It is unbecoming of a man to put himself forward in such a manner."
Achnib's face turned deep red. "You meant to do no such thing! You would have kept it for yourself!".
In response, the young man reached for the cash ledger and thumbed to the day's page. He held up the book so the scribe could see that the entry had already been made.
"I will let your insult pass, for it is beneath me," he said in a soft, dangerous voice. "As a son of the pasha, I have little need for gold. But now that the coin is in your hands, perhaps you should sign for it as well?"
The scribe sputtered angrily, but no suitable response came to his mind. Nor could he refuse the proper procedure that Hasheth had suggested. At length he shut his mouth, snatched the quill from the apprentice's inkwell, and scrawled his mark next to the neat entry. He spun on his heel and stalked from the room.
Only then did Hasheth permit himself a sneer. The fool had no idea what he held in his hand! Achnib saw a piece of gold, no more.
Very well. He would come to know in time, to his sorrow.
In the young prince's mind, the lines of battle had been clearly drawn.
******
Foxfire stood in respectful silence as the body of yet another elf was lowered into the bog – the last of then-number who had sustained mortal injuries in the farmlands to the east – and he listened as the songs were sung that marked the return of yet another forest spirit into the great caldron of life. The others stood with him – the survivors of the raid, the reinforcements from Talltrees, even the volatile Tamsin – all taking solace and direction from their