The Redemption of Althalus. David Eddings
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the wench got to know each other a little better. He was very much in need of friendship just now.
And so Althalus remained in Nabjor’s establishment for quite some time to enjoy the entertainments available there. Nabjor’s mead was plentiful, there was usually a haunch of forest bison on a spit near the fire in case anyone grew hungry, and the wench with wicked eyes was talented. Not only that, other thieves, almost all of them old friends and acquaintances, stopped by from time to time, and they could all spend happy hours together, bragging, talking shop, and engaging in friendly dice games. After this past year, Althalus really needed some relaxation to unwind his nerves and restore his good humor. His stock in trade was witty stories and jokes, and a grumpy man can’t tell jokes very well.
His meager supply of brass coins was not inexhaustible, however, and after a time his purse grew very slender, so he regretfully concluded that he’d probably better start thinking about going back to work.
And then along toward the end of summer on a blustery day when the racing clouds overhead were blotting out the sun, a man with deep-sunk eyes and lank, greasy black hair rode into Nabjor’s camp on a shaggy grey horse. He slid down from the back of his weary mount and came to the fire to warm his hands. ‘Mead!’ he called to Nabjor in a harsh voice.
‘I don’t know you, friend,’ Nabjor said suspiciously, fingering his heavy bronze axe. ‘I’ll have to see your money first.’
The stranger’s eyes hardened and then he wordlessly shook a heavy leather purse.
Althalus squinted speculatively at the stranger. The fellow was wearing a kind of bronze helmet on his head that reached down the back of his neck to his shoulders, and there were thick bronze plates sewn onto his black leather jerkin. He also wore a long, hooded black cloak which looked rather fine and which Althalus was sure would fit him, if the stranger happened to drink too much of Nabjor’s mead and drift off to sleep. The man also had a heavy-bladed sword tucked under his belt and a narrow bronze dagger as well.
There was an oddly archaic look about the stranger’s features that made his face appear to have been only half-finished. Althalus didn’t really pay too much attention to the stranger’s face, though. What he was really looking for were the characteristic clan-tattoos of the Arums. At this particular time Althalus thought it might be prudent to avoid Arums. The stranger, however, had unmarked hands and forearms, so our thief relaxed.
The black-haired stranger seated himself on a log across the fire-pit from where Althalus lounged and looked penetratingly at the thief. It might have been some trick of the light, but the dancing flames of the fire were reflected in the stranger’s eyes, and that made Althalus just a bit edgy. It’s not every day that a man comes across somebody whose eyes are on fire. ‘I see that I’ve finally found you,’ the stranger said in a peculiarly accented voice. It appeared that this man was not one to beat about the bush.
‘You’ve been looking for me?’ Althalus said as calmly as possible. The fellow was heavily armed, and as far as Althalus knew, there was still a price on his head back in Arum. He carefully shifted his own sword around on his belt so that the hilt was closer to his hand.
‘For quite some time now,’ the stranger replied. ‘I picked up your trail in Deika. Men down there are still talking about how fast you can run when dogs are chasing you. Then I tracked you to Kanthon in Treborea and on to Maghu in Perquaine. Druigor’s still trying to figure out why you just dumped all his money on the floor and didn’t steal any of it.’
Althalus winced.
‘You didn’t know that it was money, did you?’ the stranger said shrewdly. ‘Anyway, I followed you from Maghu up into Arum, and there’s a fat man up there who’s looking for you even harder than I am.’
‘I sort of doubt that,’ Althalus said. ‘Gosti wants people to think he’s rich, and I’m probably the only man around who knows that there was nothing in his strongroom but copper pennies.’
The stranger laughed. ‘I thought there was something that didn’t quite ring true about the way he kept going on about how you’d robbed him.’
‘And just why have you spent all this time looking for me?’ Althalus asked, getting to the point. ‘Your clothing says Nekweros, and I haven’t been there in years, so I’m sure I haven’t stolen anything from you recently.’
‘Set your mind at rest, Althalus, and slide your sword back around your belt so the hilt doesn’t keep poking you in the ribs. I haven’t come here to take your head back to Gosti. Would you be at all interested in a business proposition?’
‘That depends.’
‘My name’s Ghend, and I need a good thief who knows his way around. Are you at all familiar with the land of the Kagwhers?’
‘I’ve been there a few times,’ Althalus replied cautiously. ‘I don’t care very much for the Kagwhers. They have this habit of assuming that everyone who comes along is there to sneak into their gold mines and just help himself. What is it that you want me to steal for you? You look like the kind of man who can take care of things like that for himself. Why would you want to pay somebody else to do it for you?’
‘You’re not the only one with a price on his head, Althalus,’ Ghend replied with a pained expression. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t care much for the reception I’d get if I happened to venture into Kagwher just now. Anyway, there’s someone in Nekweros who’s holding some obligations over my head, and he’s not the sort I’d want to disappoint. There’s something he really wants over in Kagwher, and he’s told me to go there and get it for him. That puts me in a very tight spot, you understand. You’d be in the same sort of situation if someone told you to go get something for him and it just happened to be in Arum, wouldn’t you?’
‘I can see your problem, yes. I should warn you that I don’t work cheap, though.’
‘I didn’t expect you to, Althalus. This thing my friend in Nekweros wants is quite large and very heavy, and I’m prepared to pay you its weight in gold if you’ll steal it for me.’
‘You just managed to get my undivided attention, Ghend.’
‘Are you really as good a thief as everyone says you are?’ Ghend’s glowing eyes seemed to burn more brightly.
‘I’m the best,’ Althalus said with a deprecating shrug.
‘He’s right about that, stranger,’ Nabjor said, bringing Althalus a fresh cup of mead. ‘Althalus here can steal anything with two ends or with a top and a bottom.’
‘That might be a slight exaggeration,’ Althalus said. ‘A river has two ends, and I’ve never stolen one of those; and a lake has a top and a bottom, but I’ve never stolen one of those either. What exactly is it that this man in Nekweros wants badly enough to offer gold for it – some jewel or something like that?’
‘No, it’s not a jewel,’ Ghend replied with a hungry look. ‘What he wants – and will pay gold for – is a Book.’
‘You just said the magic word “gold” again, Ghend. I could sit here all day and listen to you talk about it, but now we come to the hard part. What in blazes is a book?’
Ghend looked sharply at him, and the flickering firelight touched his eyes again, making them glow a burning red. ‘So that’s why you threw all of Druigor’s money on the floor. You didn’t know that it was money because you can’t read.’
‘Reading’s for the priests, Ghend, and I don’t have any dealings with priests if I can avoid it. Every priest I’ve ever come across promises me a seat at the table of his god – if I’ll just hand over everything I’ve got in my purse. I’m sure the dining halls of the gods are very nice, but you have to die to get an invitation to have dinner with God, and I’m not really that hungry.’
Ghend frowned. ‘This might complicate things just a bit,’ he said. ‘A book is a collection of pages that people read.’
‘I