"I am flattered," said Ivy. "I am just a simple mercenary who knows how to make three and three add to six."
"Or even seven and eight." Beriall felt the bill tucked safely in his sleeve. It was an astonishing document, most worthy of preservation.
"You have our invitation to come to Procampur some day," said the Thultyrl, signaling forward the next group of petitioners. "Perhaps when you are done with your digging." And, for the first and last time in front of Ivy, he dropped the royal "we" and added in the eager tones of a young man who liked hunting as much as law-writing, "I would be interested in hearing more about your adventures underground."
"You are both generous and kind, sire," said Ivy. Then she gave the Thultyrl the most elaborate court bow that her bard mother had taught her, hand on heart in a sincere gesture of respect. When she straightened up, she saw that even Sanval looked impressed. She didn't know why he should stand there blinking like that. It wasn't as if she'd been raised by orcs in the wilderness; she had told him that she knew how to behave when she had to. Restraining the urge to whistle some startling and scandalous tune just to see if she could make the Procampurs' ears turn red, Ivy gracefully drew back and let the next group of petitioners claim the Thultyrl's attention.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Outside the Thultyrl's pavilion, Ivy paused. The others hurried ahead to collect their shovels, sweeping Sanval away with them as they pulled him along in a swirl of amiable bickering stronger than any iron chain. Mumchance and Zuzzara were already arguing with Gunderal and Kid about the best way to dig down to the crypt full of jewels. Ivy just hoped they didn't say the words "Moaning Diamond" or "buckets of gems" too loudly or too often. She didn't want anyone else to get the idea that there was still treasure to be found in the ruins of Tsurlagol. Of course, she did have the only royal permit, signed by the Thultyrl himself, to dig and retain anything that she might find in the fields outside Tsurlagol's western wall.
Ivy watched them go, lit by that little aura of affection that always surrounded them in her view-even silly, fluffy Wiggles happily dancing around their ankles and doing her yippy best to trip them up and send them tumbling down the hill. She reflected with relief that she had gotten away with everything that she wanted. Truly amazing, she decided, and she wondered if she should waste any more coin on a temple tribute. After all, the gods and goddesses had plenty of worshippers and priests and temples stuffed with gifts, and it seemed silly to distract them from truly needy prayers with her minor concerns.
From where she stood, the broken wall of Tsurlagol was clearly visible, as were the swirls of Procampur's army and mixed mercenaries going down the harbor road, out into the wooded hills, and back to Procampur. There would be days of running down what was left of Fottergrim's horde, messages going out to all the little kingdoms in the Vast that another orc threat had been destroyed, and even more messages to dwarf enclaves and human cities that there was once again building work to be done in Tsurlagol.
The sun glinted on the pretty little lake that had spread out from the destruction of the western wall. In less than a day, the water level had already dropped considerably. Gunderal had speculated that the river was returning to its old course, now that her spell was fading away and no longer pulling it into the underground ruins. Ivy hoped that she was right. It would be easier to find the Moaning Diamond and that treasure-filled crypt if they were not underwater.
The Pearl rustled up to her. "You did very well," she said, startling Ivy out of her contemplation of treasure hunting beneath Tsurlagol.
"We took some chances and got lucky."
"Chance is less random than you believe."
"It is odd, you know, that the Thultyrl did not start healing until today," said Ivy, trying to fill the silence, glancing at the Pearl. "There must have been some poison in that wound to keep him so weak. Or maybe it was a spell. I wonder if Fottergrim had Archlis send some curse against the Thultyrl."
The Pearl's face was without expression-a proper face for a Procampur lady-as she watched the hubbub on the plain below. "The Thultyrl was supposed to die in his twenty-sixth year, after a great duel with Fottergrim at the base of that wall. Dead so young and with so much left unaccomplished. What do I care if Gruumsh wanted to raise another warlord to unite the orcs? My Thultyrl will build a great library. His codex will serve as a model for other cities and their lawmakers."
Ivy looked at her own hands, the wounds easily vanished by that handsome cleric in Procampur's hospice tent. Every bruise, every ache, even that odd little kink in her left big toe, dismissed by the strong magic held by Procampur's healers. She knew that even better healers would have been tending the Thultyrl throughout the summer. But the best of them probably could not combat the magic of a woman who had ruled the wizards of Procampur for three generations. Especially if they did not suspect what she was doing. "You kept his wound from healing so he could not take to the field. You changed his destiny."
"I spun his fate as I could," said the Pearl. "I also gave you what luck I could."
Remembering the Pearl's tap on her harper's token when the Pearl handed back her glove, Ivy glanced at the gauntlet tucked so carelessly into her belt. Had the Pearl changed the little silver leaf? Enhanced it with a little more luck than it usually carried? While she had been wearing it, a certain floating corpse had drifted into her grasp, and a sword thrown in desperation had lodged in a monster's throat, among other lucky coincidences.
"I should thank you then?" asked Ivy. "For all my luck?"
"Luck only goes so far," replied the Pearl. "It takes courage and it takes skill to use luck wisely."
Ivy bowed, a sincere acknowledgment of gratitude to a woman whose powers she barely comprehended. As far as she knew, very few could dice with destiny and win. "It takes a great deal of audacity to challenge the gods, even gods like Gruumsh," said Ivy, with real admiration in her voice.
"Oh, I am a red-roof girl," sang the Pearl very softly in her funny deep voice and winked at Ivy with a wicked smile.
"And we red-roof girls do have a soft spot for men from Procampur," said Ivy, startled into a moment of enlightenment that was less than polite.
"It's the armor," admitted the Pearl. "But it is more than that. It is their belief that they should be doing the right thing whenever they can. Their absolute belief in the value of law."
"Of honor."
"Of good," the Pearl concluded. "That is important. To have rulers who believe that good is the natural order of the world. That is what Procampur needs. And I am pledged to Procampur as truly as the Thultyrl."
"Even if good is not the natural order."
"How do you know that?"
Ivy remembered an argument about the Thieves Guilds with Sanval, and she concluded that every citizen of Procampur was just a little bit crazy when it came to topics like law, honor, and general good. It was an insanity that might just be catching. She rather hoped it would, or that at least it caught in places where she wasn't trying to run some scheme or other. If sieges went out of style, she would need to find a new line of work. "I wish him well, your Thultyrl. A long and a happy life writing laws and building his library."
"He will have it," promised the Pearl with the same placid tone that she used to describe how she would boil Fottergrim's head. "Even if I have to twist fate every day into a new pattern."
Sanval was waiting for Ivy when she reached her tent. All of their gear was right where they had left it. No thieves had dared disturb the pack of panting dogs that had distributed themselves on top of their bags and boxes. The whole pack greeted her return with thumping tails. Everyone but Sanval was rummaging through their stuff, gathering up tools and looking for food. The Thultyrl's people had fed them, but everyone was packing extra snacks into their clothing. After all, you never knew when you might drop down a hole and feel a little hungry.