The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [132]
"So there you are, you old fox," muttered Seregil.
"He must be held in high esteem, to be safe staying here so close to the slave markets," Rieser whispered back.
"Viresse trades with Plenimar. Always has. I didn't expect him to have a house here, though."
Ulan was in the library, recovering from a particularly bad coughing fit, when Ilar came in without knocking and closed the door behind him. Ulan quickly balled up his bloodied handkerchief and kept it hidden in one hand.
A hectic flush colored Ilar's cheeks as he stood shaking with barely contained excitement. Closing the door, he hugged himself and whispered, "They are here, Khirnari! Your man at the north gate saw them come in this afternoon."
"Do they have the rhekaro with them?" Not even the pain still lingering in his chest could spoil this heartening news. It was the first news he'd had of them since his spy aboard the Lady had gone silent.
"No, but Alec is there, with Seregil and the red-haired Tir. The other 'faie is still with them, too. The spy is certain it's them."
"What did he say?"
"There's no mistaking them. Alec's hair is brown now, but the eyes are the same--a most distinct dark shade of blue. The spy got a good look at him and the red-haired Tir when the guards searched them. The Tir is playing the master."
"Clever boys. How long ago did they arrive?"
"No more than two hours. Your man followed them to the waterfront and heard them asking about you. Some men told the Tir about this house. They didn't come this way, though. He followed them to an inn in a street called Irsan. He waited to see if they came out again, but they didn't, so he came back."
"No matter. We know that they're coming," Ulan said with a smile of satisfaction. "Ilar, I must ask you to be my watchman. There is no one else whom I can trust with the task. No one else must know of the books."
"I understand, Khirnari, but what if they see me?" Ilar replied, eyes widening with fear.
"You shall be perfectly safe, keeping watch from there." A curtained alcove at the back of the room between two bookcases was the best he could do for a hiding place for Ilar.
Several large volumes lay on the table at the back of the room, books the same size and color as the ones they'd taken from Yhakobin's house. "There is our bait. When our mice come into our trap, you're to wait until they've gone, then come to me. I shall raise an outcry and we'll have them as escaped slaves and common thieves."
"As you wish, Khirnari." Ilar was pale now, and trembling.
Ulan nearly changed his mind; one of his escort could just as well be stationed here under some pretext, but his secret was too valuable to risk. It would not do for his people to learn that their khirnari had played the thief himself, or the nature of what he was trying to protect. The making of a rhekaro stank of necromancy, no matter what Yhakobin had said about his so-called art. There was no question of taking Alec and the books to Viresse city, of course; he already had made preparations at a mountain hunting lodge far from there. He would keep Alec there. The boy would not be mistreated, either. Perhaps in time, he could even be made to understand his own importance.
This is for the good of the clan, he reminded himself, steeling his resolve. It was the duty of the khirnari to sacrifice for his people, even his life.
But my honor?
That was even more precious, but he had no choice but to press on with his plan. He was too close to success to lose his nerve now.
That night Ulan waited until the household servants had gone to bed, then had Ilar blow out the lamps in the library, leaving only the fire on the hearth for light.
"At last," he murmured, smoothing his hand over the cover of the topmost book. The real ones were safely hidden away. He held out his own silver-handled dagger. "Take this, dear boy, just in case."
Ilar looked at the knife as if it were a serpent. "I could never win against them!"
"So long as you keep quiet, there'll be no need. I shall feel better if you're armed. You must be careful and silent, Ilar."
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