“Of course not.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Tam considered him a moment, as if he were trying to decide how best to get a sick bull into a cart bed. “I think it’s best,” he said carefully, “if I do this alone.”
Dahl bit back a curse. “Are you at least going to tell me what ‘this’ is?”
Tam shook his head. “Better not to involve you.”
“What is it you think I’m here for?” Dahl asked tightly. “At the very least tell me what you’re doing so I can tell Master Vishter what happened if you don’t come back.”
Tam gave him a thin smile. “I always come back.”
“Until you don’t.”
That made him chuckle again, like an amused uncle. Like he found Dahl’s concerns an adorable approximation of a real Harper. Dahl balled his fists.
But amused or not, Tam took the borrowed leaflet from the pocket sewn into the lining of his cloak and spread it face down on the table. Sketchy lines of charcoal-the tip of a burnt sliver of wood, perhaps-traced the suggestion of a large building’s floor plan.
“The viewing’s in this North Ward manor,” Tam said. “The page will be placed in the ballroom, about here.” He tapped the largest room in the building, toward the back of the house. “Eight windows face the rear gardens, which are walled in by seven feet of stone. Everyone enters through the front gate, and exits in the same fashion, if the guards have anything to say about it. He’s expecting around seventy guests.”
“You found all this in a night?”
“I am very good at what I do,” Tam answered. “Now the festivities start at sundown tomorrow, an hour after the page is brought in and placed. A friend is getting me in.”
Dahl frowned at the drawing. “You mean to steal it from him at the viewing?”
“Well,” Tam said, straightening, “I think it unlikely Master Rhand will sell it after he’s just bought it.”
“Rhand?” Dahl looked up. “Adolican Rhand?”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him,” Dahl said dryly. “The Harpers think he’s got ties to Netheril. He runs caravans up north, to points that make no sense, and he profits a great deal from it. We’re fairly sure he’s smuggling goods to Shade. Possibly information too.” Tam raised an eyebrow and Dahl folded his arms. “People talk.”
“Indeed. All the more reason to keep the page out of his hands.”
Farideh’s dealings with the wizard were on the tip of Dahl’s tongue, but Tam’s dismissal made him set that revelation aside. “All the more reason,” he said, “not to go into this lightly. You can’t rob him on your own.”
“It’s better I do,” Tam said. “The fewer people involved, the fewer chances someone gets hurt. I have a contact inside-I don’t need anyone else.”
“And if that manor’s full of Netherese guards? Or worse? There are rumors he’s got access to shadar-kai-”
“I’ll manage,” Tam said, in a voice that sounded so much like Dahl’s old enchantments teacher that he bristled. “This is the best option.”
“Have you explored any of the other options? ’Cause I’m fairly certain having agents as backup or distractions or cover would prove useful. Have you asked Master Vishter to assign more Harpers?”
“He won’t,” Tam said, as if Dahl were asking why the sky was blue or why the moon didn’t fall down on their heads as she crossed the sky: it was an immutable fact of nature. Aron Vishter wouldn’t help them.
Dahl drew another long breath, and counted to himself.
“Don’t you think,” he said, as civilly as he could, “that it would be safer and simpler to take the page before viewing? Or before it’s transferred?”
“No,” Tam said.
Dahl waited for some explanation, but Tam was already folding up his map. “Because,” Dahl said, “it seems there will be even fewer people involved if we just knock aside some guards.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“For all of us,” Tam said sternly. “Trust me, I have been doing this for some time.”
“I’m well aware,” Dahl replied.
Every moment of this assignment made it clearer and clearer that Tam didn’t think of Dahl as a partner, nor truly even as an assistant. Him, Dahl thought bitterly, and everyone else. A millstone, perhaps. A nuisance to be worked around.
Jedik had put Dahl in contact with the Harpers just a year before, hoping no doubt that the opportunity would clear Dahl’s mind, give his thoughts somewhere to focus and his hands something to do besides pick up another bottle. It didn’t matter. The Harpers hardly needed him either.
“At least put me somewhere I can be useful,” Dahl said bitterly. “Give me that if nothing else. A lookout-put me near the doors.”
Tam smiled, but it was that slick, outward smile Dahl had begun to notice and hate. Unimpeachable on the surface, but gods above, Dahl knew he didn’t mean it. “I can handle a good deal more than you give me credit for,” Tam said.
“I’m not doubting you. I’m saying there are too many things that can go wrong.”
“A good reason for you to stay out of the thick of it.”
Oghma’s bloody papercuts, Dahl though, I’d like to hit him. “So my entire purpose is to tell Master Vishter how you died?” Dahl fumed. “You do know I can swing a godsbedamned sword?”
“No one needs to swing swords,” Tam said more firmly. “We want everyone to walk away from this.”
“Good luck to you when there’s a room full of shadar-kai on you.”
Tam looked as if he’d like to hit Dahl too. “Watch your tongue.”
There was a tentative tap on the door, and a slight, pale young man with streaky blond hair pushed in. His eyes darted from Tam to Dahl, and back again.
“Good morning,” he said. “Are you just getting in?”
“Ah, gods, Brin!” Tam said. “My apologies.” He turned back to Dahl. “You might have answered the door, seeing as you were using my rooms.”
“No, no,” the young man said. “I took a room of my own. Farideh said you’d gone out and when I didn’t see you return … well, why come knocking?” He looked over at Dahl. “Is this your new apprentice?” he said, a hint of a chill in his tone.
“I’m working with him,” Dahl said, too furious to be more articulate. He was years out of apprenticeship. “Dahl Peredur.”
The young man’s expression took on a certain steeliness as he clasped the proffered hand. “Brin. Brin Crownsilver.”
Dahl’s surprise must have shown; the young man smirked. The Crownsilvers were well-heeled and influential in Cormyr, enough that even a farmer’s son out of the Dalelands recognized his name.
“I thought you were fresh out of coin,” Tam said, “Goodsir Crownsilver.”
Brin turned back to him. “Yes, well, I’ve … come in to some. Quite a bit, actually. I was hoping … I’m not sure I ought to be using it. It’s … family coin.”
“Presumably your family is the one who gave you access to it,” Tam said, “so I should think they don’t mind.”
“I mind,” Brin said. “If I’m taking it, I feel as if I ought to be putting it to some better use than room and board.”
“I think you’ll find surviving is a very good use for coin,” Tam said. “Start there. Now, if you’ll excuse us?”
Brin looked over at Dahl again. “Are you two working on that page Farideh mentioned?”
“This isn’t open business,” Dahl said.
“It’s more open than you think,” Brin replied. “I know what Tam does outside of his goddess’s dictums. I’m going to assume you do the same?”
Tam held the door open. “What he does or does not do isn’t a point of discussion. Now, if you don’t mind-”
“She seemed to think you were going to steal it,” Brin went on. “But you haven’t got it, have you?” He looked back at Dahl. “You wouldn’t be arguing if you had.” Dahl scowled-he hadn’t meant to be loud enough to be heard, and now Tam would surely point out his indiscretion.
“Enough, Brin,” Tam said, pulling the younger man toward the door. “We’re not playing at courtly intrigue. Remind Farideh of that as well, if you please.” He did not shut the door behind Brin.