‘That sort of stirs my creativity.’
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
‘I don’t like people who sell children. It’s a personal sort of thing. Let’s go meet this Valash. I’d like to find out if he’s as gullible as you say.’
They climbed a rickety outside stairway to a door that was flimsy and patched and showed some signs of having been kicked in a few times. The loft beyond the door was incredibly cluttered with all manner of worn clothing, battered furniture, and dented kitchen utensils. There were even broken farm tools gathering dust in the corners.
‘Some people will steal anything,’ Talen sniffed.
A lone candle guttered on the far side of the room, and a bony Elene sat drowsing at a table by its uncertain light. He wore a short, green brocade jacket of a Daconian cut, and his sparse, mud-colored hair stood almost straight up, looking much like a thin, dirty halo round his gaunt head. As they crossed the loft toward him, he stirred himself and quickly picked up some papers and began to shuffle them in a self-important manner.
He looked up with feigned impatience as they approached. ‘You’re late, Vymer,’ he accused in a high-pitched, nasal voice.
‘Sorry, Master Valash,’ Stragen apologized in a servile tone. ‘From and I were busy extricating young Reldin here from a tense situation. Reldin’s very good, but he overextends himself sometimes. Anyway, you wanted to meet my associates.’ He laid one hand on Sparhawk’s shoulder. ‘This is From. He’s a tavern brawler, so we let him deal with any situation that can be settled with a few quick punches or a kick in the belly. The boy there is Reldin, the nimblest sneak-thief I’ve ever known. He can wriggle through mouse-holes, and his ears are sharp enough to hear ants crossing the street on the other side of town.’
‘I just want to hire him, Vymer,’ Valash said. ‘I don’t want to buy him.’ He giggled at his own joke. He smirked at them, clearly expecting them to join in his laughter. Talen, however, did not laugh. His eyes took on an icy glitter.
Valash seemed a bit abashed by their reception of his feeble joke. ‘Why are you all dressed as sailors?’ he asked, more for something to say than out of any real curiosity.
Stragen shrugged. ‘It’s a port city, Master Valash. The streets are crawling with sailors, so three more won’t attract any particular attention.’
Valash grunted. ‘Have you anything for me that I might find worth my while?’ he asked in a superior, bored tone of voice.
Talen snatched off his cap. ‘You’ll have to decide that for yourself, Master Valash,’ he whined, as he bowed awkwardly. ‘I did come across something, if you’d care to hear it.’
‘Go on,’ Valash told him.
‘Well, sir, there’s this rich Tamul merchant who owns a big house over in the fancy part of town. He’s got a tapestry on the wall of his study that I’ve had my eye on for quite some time now. It’s a very good one—lots of tiny stitches, and the color hasn’t faded very much. The only trouble is that it covers the whole wall. You can get a fortune for really good tapestry, but only if you can get it all out in one piece. It’s not worth much if you have to cut it up to carry it out. Anyway, I went into his house the other night to try and come up with some way to get it out without butchering it. The merchant was in the study, though, and he had a friend with him—some noble from the imperial court at Matherion. I listened at the door, and the noble was telling the merchant about some of the rumors running around the imperial palace. Everybody’s saying that the Emperor’s very unhappy with these people from Eosia. That attempt to overthrow the government last fall really frightened him, and he’d like to come to some kind of agreement with his enemies, but this Sparhawk person won’t let him. Sarabian’s convinced that they’re going to lose, so he’s secretly outfitted a fleet of ships all loaded down with treasure and as soon as trouble shows up on the horizon, he’s going to make a run for it. The courtiers all know about his plans, so they’re stealthily making arrangements for their own escapes when the fighting starts. Some morning very soon this Sparhawk’s going to wake up and find an unfriendly army at his gates and nobody around to help hold them off.’ He paused. ‘Was that the sort of information you wanted?’
The Dacite made some effort to conceal his excited interest. He put on a deprecating expression. ‘It’s nothing we haven’t heard before. About all it does is help to confirm what we’ve already picked up.’ He tentatively pushed a couple of small silver coins across the table. ‘I’ll pass it on to Panem-Doa and see what they think about it.’
Talen looked at the coins and then at Valash. Then he crammed his cap back on. ‘I’ll be leaving now, Vymer,’ he said in a flat tone, ‘and don’t waste my time on this cheapskate again.’
‘Don’t be in such a rush,’ Stragen said placatingly. ‘Let me talk with him first.’
‘You’re making a mistake, Valash,’ Sparhawk told the Dacite. ‘You’ve got a heavy purse hanging off your belt. If you try to cheat Reldin, he’ll come back some night and slice open the bottom of it. He won’t leave you enough to buy breakfast.’
Valash put his hand protectively over his purse. Then he opened it with what appeared to be extreme reluctance.
‘I thought Lord Scarpa was at Natayos,’ Stragen said casually. ‘Has he moved his operations to Panem-Doa?’
Valash was sweating as he counted out coins, his fingers lingering on each one as if he were parting with an old friend. ‘There are a lot of things you don’t know about our operation, Vymer,’ he replied. He gave Talen a pleading look as he tentatively pushed the money across the table.
Talen made no move to accept the coins.
Valash made a whimpering sound and added more coins.
‘That’s a little better,’ Talen told him, scooping up the money.
‘Then Scarpa’s moved?’ Stragen asked.
‘Of course not,’ Valash retorted. ‘You didn’t think his whole army’s at Natayos, did you?’
‘That’s what I’d heard. He has other strongholds as well, I take it?’
‘Of course. Only a fool puts his entire force in one place, and Scarpa’s far from being a fool, I’ll tell the world. He’s been recruiting men in the Elene kingdoms of western Tamuli for years now, and he sends them all to Hydros and then on to Panem-Doa for training. After that, they go on to either Synagua or Norenja. Only his crack troops are at Natayos. His army’s at least five times larger than most people believe. These jungles positively seethe with his men.’
Sparhawk carefully concealed a smile. Valash obviously had a great need to appear important, and that need made him reveal things he shouldn’t be talking about.
‘I didn’t know Scarpa’s army was so big,’ Stragen admitted. ‘It makes me feel better. It might be nice to be on the winning side for a change.’
‘It’s about time,’ Sparhawk growled. ‘I’m getting a little tired of being chased out of every town we visit before I’ve even had the time to unpack my sea-bag.’ He squinted at Valash. ‘As long as the subject’s come up anyway, could we expect Scarpa’s people out there in the brush to take us in if things turn sour and we have to make a run for it?’
‘What could possibly go wrong?’
‘Have you ever taken a good look at an Atan, Valash? They’re as tall as trees, and they’ve got shoulders like bulls. They do unpleasant things to people, so I want a friendly place to come down if I suddenly have to take flight. Are there any other safe places out there in the woods?’
Valash’s expression grew wary as if he had suddenly realized that he’d said too much already.
‘Ah—I think we know what we need to, From,’ Stragen interposed smoothly. ‘There are safe places out there if we really need to find them. I’m sure there are many things Master Valash knows that he’s not supposed to talk about.’
Valash puffed himself up slightly, and his expression took on a knowing, secretive cast. ‘You understand the situation perfectly Vymer,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be proper for me to reveal things Lord Scarpa’s told me in strictest confidence.’ He pointedly picked up his papers again.