Dragonspell: The Southern Sea. Katharine Kerr
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of the finest red silk. Tattooed around his right wrist was a striking hawk.
‘If you were one of my pieces of work, you’d be dead, Baruma. Have you come to show me your wares? I’m most interested in seeing them.’
‘I’m honoured that you are. Perhaps we can strike a bargain, then. You see, one of the little rats who scurry at our bidding has disobeyed me. I can’t go back to Myleton to tend to the matter myself, but he needs to be punished. Not killed, mind – merely taught a painful lesson.’
‘Nothing could be easier to arrange.’ The master hesitated briefly. ‘This fool lives in Myleton, then.’
‘Brindemo the slave trader.’
‘Ah.’
In the flickering lamplight Baruma could see nothing but the coarsest silhouette of the Hawkmaster’s face through the fine silk, but he received the impression that he was being studied. The hair on the back of his neck pricked in a perfectly reasonable fear at the thought.
‘One of my men accompanied you to the barbarian kingdom,’ the master said at last. ‘I believe he was calling himself Gwin.’
‘Yes. I didn’t realize that he was attached to this particular guild.’
‘It wasn’t his place to tell you.’ There was a trace of humour in his voice. ‘He made, of course, a full report on what happened.’
Baruma’s fear deepened when he remembered the Hawk’s insolence. He was painfully aware that no one in the world knew where he was at the moment, that he could disappear forever if the Hawkmaster should choose.
‘I’m very interested in this Rhodry of Aberwyn.’ The master laced his fingertips together and seemed to be studying them. ‘Although Gwin and Merryc are convinced that he was noble-born, we know little about him. I wonder why the Old One found him so important.’
‘I wonder myself.’
There was no way of telling if the master believed him or not. After an agonizing wait of some minutes, the Hawkmaster spoke again.
‘Soon you’ll be completing the third ring of your studies, won’t you?’ His tone of voice was perfectly conversational, which was, oddly enough, more frightening than any sinister whisper or suchlike would have been. ‘A man like you could use a little backing in the Brotherhood.’
‘No doubt.’ Baruma picked his words carefully, wondering if he were being sounded out for a weakness. ‘When he walks the paths of power, a man needs to know who’s walking behind him.’
The master laughed, a cold sharp bark.
‘I like the way you express yourself, my friend, and you’re speaking the exact truth. What if I offered myself as one of your backers?’
‘I’d be honoured beyond dreaming, of course, but such support is far too valuable to come for free.’
‘Just so.’ The red silk rustled as the master nodded his head. ‘Some of us in the various guilds wonder what the Old One’s up to. We wonder greatly. He is vastly old, my friend, well over a hundred at least, maybe two hundred for all we know. We wonder how the years have affected his mind. You’ve seen him recently?’
There was no use in lying.
‘Oh yes, fairly recently. He seemed as sharp and smooth as a well-oiled scythe. Physically he’s very slow, of course. But his mind still seemed … let us say, formidable.’
‘Ah. A fine choice of words, indeed. Now let me make one thing clear: I mean the Old One no harm, none whatsoever. If the blood guilds wished to dispose of him, we wouldn’t bother to take the risk of bringing you into our confidence. Is that clear?’
‘Very. Yet something’s troubling you?’
‘Oh yes. Why did he want Rhodry of Aberwyn kidnapped, then just set adrift here in the islands?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘I was afraid that he hadn’t told you. He’s working on something, all right, something very convoluted and strange.’ The master got up abruptly. ‘I smell danger.’ He began to pace back and forth in front of the fresco. ‘And no one reaches my position in a blood guild without knowing danger when he smells it. All I want from you is this, that you go on to the Old One’s villa, just as you planned to do, and see if you can find out anything about this mysterious scheme. That’s all for now – just information. Later, who knows? But I promise you this, if anyone has to confront the Old One, that someone will be me, not you.’
‘Very good, because you know perfectly well that I could never stand against him.’
‘Just so.’ The way the hood twitched gave the impression that the master was smiling. ‘And in return, we put you forward as a candidate for the Outer Circle. Our backing carries great weight, you know.’
‘Oh yes, and as I say, I’m honoured beyond dreaming.’ One thin trickle of fear-sweat ran down Baruma’s ribs, but he forced himself to smile. ‘And I suppose someone will be keeping track of this mysterious Rhodry?’
‘Of course. The man you know as Gwin, actually. He’s the logical choice. He knows what the slave looks like after all.’
Baruma hesitated, wondering if Gwin were really trustworthy where Rhodry was concerned, but arguing with a Hawkmaster’s decisions ranked very low on his list of enjoyable pastimes.
‘Excellent. I have reason to believe that Rhodry’s a much more dangerous man than the Old One realizes.’
‘Indeed? Because he swore he’d kill you?’
The humour in the master’s voice made Baruma furious, but he kept his own voice steady and light.
‘I should have realized that Gwin would mention that little incident. Well, yes, partly because of that. Do you blame me? You know as well as I do that barbarians are more than willing to die if it’ll salvage their precious honour. No sensible, civilized man would try to escape his owner, but Rhodry of Aberwyn is neither civilized nor sensible.’
‘You’ve got a point. You know, I think it might be safer all round to have Rhodry in our hands rather than wandering round the islands with this spice trader.’
Baruma’s heart pounded once. The Hawkmaster already knew a great deal more than he’d realized.
‘I agree of course,’ Baruma said. ‘I suppose it’ll be easy enough for your men to take Rhodry alive. The Old One was adamant: we had to leave him alive.’
‘Oh, was he? That’s an interesting piece of news. Very well, kidnapping it is. I’ll put Gwin and some of my men on the trail on the morrow. We can probably learn a great deal simply by asking this Rhodry the right questions. He might be unwilling to answer, but then, we have ways of dealing with the recalcitrant.’
‘You certainly do, yes.’ Baruma was by now thoroughly frightened, but he knew that he had to speak the truth now rather than let the master find it out on his own later. ‘But Rhodry can tell you nothing. The Old One ordered me to crush his mind.’
The master spun around and stared straight at him. The lamplight struck the hood at an angle, allowing Baruma to get an impression of narrow eyes and a sneering mouth. Showing fear or grovelling now would be fatal.
‘I followed my orders, of course. I wish you’d come forward earlier with this proposal.’
‘So do I.’ The master’s tone was ironic rather than angry, and Baruma could breathe more easily. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any way to restore his memory?’
‘None. No human being could possibly break the ensorcelment I put upon him. No matter how long he lives, he’ll never remember so much as his own true name.’
‘That’s a pity, but well, we’ll have to work round it.’
‘Let me see, the man who was calling himself Merryc