forced himself to stop at twenty of the gold blocks. Then he replaced the flagstone, shoveled all the dirt back into the hole, and uprooted a number of nearby bushes. He replanted the bushes in the freshly dug-up dirt to conceal his private gold mine.
Then he fashioned a couple of bags, put ten blocks of gold in each, tied them together and hung them across his horse’s back just behind his saddle. Then he remounted, whistling gaily.
‘You’re all bubbly this afternoon,’ Emmy noted.
‘I’m stinking rich, Em,’ he said exuberantly.
‘I’ve been noticing that for several days now. You’re long overdue for a bath.’
‘That’s not what I meant, little kitten.’
‘It should have been. You’re strong enough to curdle milk.’
‘I told you that hard work didn’t agree with me, Em,’ he reminded her.
They crossed the River Osthos late that afternoon and made camp on the Treborean side. To keep the peace, Althalus bathed, washed his clothes and even shaved off the past month’s growth of beard. Emmy definitely approved of that. They rose early the following morning, and three days later they caught sight of the walls of the city of Osthos. ‘Impressive,’ Althalus observed.
‘I’m sure they’ll be glad you approve,’ Emmy’s whisper sounded inside his head. ‘How did you plan to gain entry into the palace?’
‘I’ll come up with something. What’s the word for “stay away”?’
‘“Bheudh”. Actually “bheudh” means “to make someone aware of something”, but your thought when you say the word should get your meaning across. Why do you ask?’
‘I’ll have to go about on foot to locate certain officials, and I’d rather not have some rascal steal my horse. He’s very dear to me right now.’
‘I wonder why.’
Althalus rode some distance away from the road and, with Emmy’s instruction, he converted five of his gold blocks into coins marked with the idealized picture of a stalk of wheat which identified them as having come from Perquaine. Then he rode into the city, where he stopped by a clothier’s shop and bought himself some moderately elegant garments to disguise his rustic origins. Emmy chose not to comment when he emerged from the shop.
He remounted and made his way to the public buildings near the palace to listen and to ask questions.
‘I wouldn’t go anywhere near her, stranger,’ a silvery-haired old statesman advised when Althalus asked him about the procedure for gaining an audience with Arya Andine.
‘Oh?’ Althalus said, ‘why’s that?’
‘She was difficult before her father’s death, but now she’s graduated from difficult to impossible.’
‘Unfortunately, I have some business I have to discuss with her. I’d planned to talk with her father, the Aryo. I hadn’t heard that he’d died. What happened to him?’
‘I thought everybody knew. The Kanthons invaded us a month or so back, and they sent their mercenaries down here to lay siege to our city. Our noble Aryo led our army outside the walls to chase those howling barbarians off, and one of the scoundrels murdered him.’
‘My goodness!’
‘The murderer was captured, naturally.’
‘Good. Did Arya Andine have him put to death?’
‘No, he’s still alive. Arya Andine’s still considering various ways to send him off. I’m sure she’ll come up with something suitably unpleasant – eventually. What line of business are you in, my friend?’
‘I’m a labor contractor,’ Althalus replied.
The statesman gave him a quizzical look.
Althalus winked slyly at him. ‘“Labor contractor” sounds so much nicer than “slave trader”, wouldn’t you say? I’d heard about the assault on your city, and I understand that your soldiers captured several of the attackers. I thought I might stop by and take them off your hands. The owners of the salt mines in Ansu are paying a lot of money for strong, healthy slaves right now. Captured soldiers bring a premium price in the salt mines, and I pay in good gold. Do you think Arya Andine might be interested?’
‘The word “gold” is very likely to get her attention,’ the courtier agreed. ‘She’ll want to keep Eliar, the young fellow who killed her father, but she’d probably be willing to sell the others to you. What might your name be, my friend?’
‘I’m called Althalus.’
‘A very ancient name.’
‘My family was sort of old-fashioned.’
‘Why don’t we step over to the palace, Master Althalus?’ the courtier suggested. ‘I’ll introduce you to our impossible Arya.’
The old gentleman led the way to the palace gate, and he and Althalus were immediately admitted. ‘The soldiers will look after your horse, Master Althalus,’ the silvery-haired man said. ‘Oh, my name’s Dhakan, by the way. I tend to forget that strangers don’t know me.’
I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Dhakan,’ Althalus said, bowing politely.
Emmy, who’d been sitting rather primly on the saddle of their horse, dropped sinuously to the stones of the courtyard.
‘Your pet, Master Althalus?’ Dhakan asked.
‘She tends to look at it the other way around, my Lord,’ Althalus replied. ‘Cats are sort of like that.’
‘I have a pet turtle myself,’ Dhakan said. ‘He doesn’t move very fast, but then, neither do I.’
Osthos was an ancient city, and the throne room was truly magnificent. It had a marble floor and stately columns. At the far end was a raised dais backed by crimson drapes, and there was an ornate throne on that dais. Imperious Andine, Arya of Osthos, sat upon that throne. She was quite obviously not paying the slightest bit of attention to the droning speech being presented by a stout man wearing a white mantle. The speech was a diplomatically gentle suggestion that the young Arya wasn’t paying enough heed to affairs of state.
Andine was young – very young, in fact. Althalus judged her to be no more than fifteen years old. Everyone else in her throne room had white hair, the only exception being a similarly youthful kilted Arum, who was chained to a marble column at one side of the dais. That young fellow was receiving imperious Andine’s undivided attention. She was looking directly at him with her huge, almost black eyes, and she was absently toying with a large laurel-leaf dagger.
‘That’s the Knife, pet,’ Emmy silently exulted.
‘Is that the murderer chained to that post?’ Althalus whispered to Dhakan a bit incredulously.
‘Sick, isn’t it?’ Dhakan replied. ‘Our glorious, but slightly warped, leader hasn’t let him out of her sight since the day he was captured.’
‘Surely she has a dungeon.’
‘Oh, yes, indeed she does. The other prisoners are all there. For some strange reason, our little girl longs for the sight of the young ruffian. She never talks to him, but she never takes her eyes off him. She sits there playing with that knife and watching him.’
‘He looks just a bit nervous.’
‘Wouldn’t you be?’
Then Emmy, her tail sinuously flowing back and forth, daintily crossed the marble floor and went up onto the dais.
‘What are you doing?’ Althalus sent a startled thought at her.
‘Stay out of this, pet,’ her voice came back. Then she raised herself up, putting her front