Elephant Thief Read online

  His mage fell in a spirited defence, taking one of my chariots with it, but he must have realised that he had no chance. Another player might have given up at that point, but Lord Rhys continued till the bitter end. Fittingly it was my elephant that finally brought his king to bay.

  Lord Rhys pushed his king over, conceding defeat, and straightened up. “You’ve won.”

  I found that I was drenched with sweat from concentrating so hard. “The books are mine?”

  “Yes.” He regarded me thoughtfully, as if seeing me truly for the first time, and suddenly I wondered if I had made a mistake. He had underestimated me, but he was not the kind of man who would do so more than once.

  There was some grumbling amongst his men, who couldn’t believe their champion had been beaten, but Lord Rhys soon put an end to that. “Enough. She’s won fairly,” he snapped and they dispersed to their tasks. But that was the only display of temper he allowed himself. By the time I had gathered the Shah pieces and put them away, he had recovered his cool equanimity. “You play like a Sikhandi,” he told me and again it was no compliment. Obviously he had figured out that my ineptitude at the beginning of the game had been a sham.

  My temper got the better of me. “I win like a Sikhandi,” I corrected him.

  Where before his gaze had been cool, now it became icy. “Not next time.” He beckoned to Owl. “Please show Lady Arisha a place to sleep. We leave early tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Eagle.”

  Tiredness swept through me, filling my limbs with lead, and I had reached the back of the cave and lain down on some blankets before Owl’s last words registered. I sat bolt upright. “Eagle? That man is the Eagle?” The Khotai woman stared at me in surprise, but only gave a curt nod of confirmation.

  I sank down on the blankets again when the fact sank in that I had just bandied words with the deadliest killer in Aneirion.

  FIVE

  The smell of porridge cooking woke me the next morning. For a moment I felt disorientated to hear Aneiry spoken around me amongst the familiar noises of an army camp, then the previous night all came back. The attack by bandits, being taken to their camp, having to explain my presence in their lands. But most fantastic of all, playing Shah with the Eagle! I could almost believe that I had dreamt it all.

  However, that moment Owl set down a bowl of porridge by my side, proving the reality of what had happened. I accepted the food gratefully, for after four days of cold breakfasts, piping hot porridge seemed the height of luxury. Yet first I wanted to check on Hami, so I wrapped a blanket around myself and went to see how he was doing, taking my bowl with me.

  Hami greeted me with a glad rumble and at once investigated the porridge with the tip of his trunk. I moved the bowl away – he was fully capable of slurping up my breakfast in one fell swoop – but was pleased to find him well provided for. The men must have cut more grass, and he also had a basket full of turnips and a trough of water.

  Thick fog shrouded the view, with only a few trees emerging like ghostly forms. I heard the whicker of horses, arousing my curiosity, and after finishing my porridge sauntered that way. Like a silent shadow Owl followed me, but made no move to stop me.

  The horses were picketed farther down the hill, out of sight of the elephant, but their nervousness showed in fidgeting and rolling eyes. They were beautiful creatures, tall, with long black legs and dappled grey coats, and I walked along the line admiring and stroking them. Of course Aneirion’s horses had been the prime reason why Prince Maziar had invaded the country in the first place, for Sikhand always needed more of them for its border patrols. How ironic that they were now used with such devastating effect against us!

  Several men were busy grooming and saddling the horses, and as one of them straightened up I recognised Lord Taren. He cared for his horse himself?

  “Lady Arisha,” he greeted me. “How do you like our water horses?”

  “Water horses?”

  He patted a particularly fine mare that would have dwarfed any of our own horses, even Sattar’s showy black. “That’s what we call them. We run them in the salt marshes near the sea and it is said that’s where they get the fish scale pattern on their backs from.” He pointed to the horse’s dappled coat. “See?”

  I nodded dutifully when he began to wax lyrical on the animal’s many fine points and extended a hand to let the horse smell it.

  “Be careful!” Lord Taren exclaimed. “Gwynt’s a trained war mare.”

  I had no intention of telling him that nothing on four legs would ever hurt me, so just shrugged. “I have a lot of experience with horses.” The mare’s ears flicked forward at my voice and she let me stroke her neck, but suddenly she swivelled her head.

  “What is that woman doing here?” a familiar voice snapped.

  Lord Rhys stood behind me, the frown I had come to expect on his face. Eagerly the mare pushed past me and for a moment the man’s expression softened. “Hello, Gwynt,” he crooned, scratching her elegant head, “have you missed me?”

  So this was the Eagle: the man with a prize of ten gold talents on his head. The man who had done more than anybody else to turn a successfully conquered province into a quagmire of traps, snares and ambushes. The man who had somehow sneaked past a whole camp full of guards and slit the throat of the infamous Prince Maziar in his sleep.

  In the grey morning light he looked quite ordinary, his blond hair tousled from sleep, wearing worn and rumpled clothes. The horse butted him in the chest, begging for a treat, and he laughed. “Sorry, my beauty, but I won’t be riding you today.” Gwynt got a carrot anyway and seemed quite content.

  So what would Lord Rhys ride if not his horse? Before I could follow the thought through to its logical conclusion, he turned his attention to me. “Are you ready to leave?” His voice was sharp, with none of the easy affection that had filled it a moment ago.

  Meeting his piercing gaze, sharp as a Changeez blade, I reflexively took a step back. His frown deepened. “Well?” he snapped.

  “I need to get my bags,” I pointed out. The man had no business to look me over as if I were something none too pleasant that had crawled out from under a stone!

  “My squire is already loading your bags on a packhorse.”

  “What!”

  He motioned down the line of horses and I saw one of his men fastening my bags to the saddle of one of them. When I hurried over, the man – no more than a boy really – nodded respectfully to me. “I’ve wrapped up the books in some spare sackcloth,” he said.

  Lord Rhys had followed me and stood there, arms crossed on his chest. Clearly I was going to have no say in what happened to my belongings. A clever move, for he must have realised how much they meant to me and that with such hostages he didn’t really need any archers to keep me from bolting. I had to admit that for a man soundly beaten in a Shah match, Lord Rhys had outmanoeuvred me pretty neatly.

  It had started to drizzle, so I unpacked my waterproof cloak and wrapped it round the bags, fuming all the while. The boy gave me a sunny smile and led the packhorse to join its fellows. “Don’t worry, my lady,” he called, “we’ll take good care of your things.”

  Lord Rhys stood at my elbow. “Let’s go.”

  He steered me back up the hill, where his men were busy carrying blankets and saddles out of the cave. Hami flapped his ears excitedly upon spotting me, recognising the signs of striking camp.

  “Show me how you mount,” Lord Rhys demanded.

  I tapped Hami on the trunk and obediently he extended his forward leg for me to step on. As he boosted me onto his back with a swift shove, the men around us exclaimed in surprise. I couldn’t resist showing off and stood up to balance on Hami’s back, from where I could survey the whole camp. “This is how we mount,” I called down to Lord Rhys.

  He closed his mouth with a snap. Perhaps I could have made a run at that moment, but the archers posted on the hillside above the cave hadn’t escaped my notice. No, we would have to wait for a better oppo
rtunity. I slid down to sit behind Hami’s broad head. Then to my astonishment Lord Rhys tapped Hami’s trunk just as I had done. Being a well-trained elephant, Hami again extended a padded foot. Gingerly Lord Rhys stepped on it, but the immediate boost took him by surprise. Trying to keep his balance, he made a wild grab for my leg and nearly unseated me. I cried out in alarm, but he somehow managed to heave himself up onto the elephant’s back by sheer force.

  “What are you doing!”

  Lord Rhys wriggled farther up, making Hami peer round curiously at the strange activity on his back. “I’m riding with you.”

  What! But before I could protest, he had seated himself behind me and his arm went round my waist.

  “Rhys, are you sure?” Lord Taren called from the ground.

  “I’ve always wanted to ride an elephant,” Lord Rhys answered. “Raven, take the horses ahead and ride advance guard. Owl, you and your company have the rear.”

  Orders received, they dispersed and the men guarding Hami released his bonds. I touched him behind the ears with my toes to give the signal to set forth, conscious of having my every movement watched closely by Lord Rhys. Did he want to learn how to control Hami this way? Well, he would find out that the signals were comparatively simple, but earning an elephant’s trust took much longer.

  We moved off through the forest, Hami stepping sure-footed and silent, and Lord Rhys’s men trailing us on foot. Swathes of mist covered the ground, and with the elephant’s rocking motion it seemed as if we floated through the fog on a boat. Some people actually got seasick from riding an elephant, but unfortunately Lord Rhys was not one of them. He sat far closer to me than I liked, our legs touching and his hand resting lightly on my waist.

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” he said suddenly, as if sensing my discomfort. “Remember, I have a knife.”

  “If you kill me, you’ll end up alone on an angry elephant,” I pointed out. “Not exactly a clever thing to do.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to use my blade on you. But I’ve read how mahouts deal with an elephant running mad: they drive a knife into the animal’s neck and kill it.” His voice went low. “Never doubt that I will do the same to your elephant, should you try to escape.”

  I didn’t doubt his willingness to carry through his threat, so said nothing, and we continued in hostile silence. The path descended sharply towards the valley floor and narrowed to the point where Hami had to brush through damp underwood, the trees either side dripping water onto us. Moreover the continuous drizzle had begun to soak through my layers of clothing and I thought longingly of my cloak treated by a Water mage to shed all rain – currently on a packhorse’s back, wrapped around my precious books. The slippery, wet ground, soaked by rain, brought back memories of that summer twelve years ago that my mother had died, memories I did my best to suppress. How I hated rain! Before long, I started to shiver from the cold.

  Lord Rhys didn’t seem to feel it, but at some point he leant down and sent one of his men running for something. However, I was too chilly to care what he did and just shoved my hands under my armpits to keep them warm. What a miserable country! The man returned shortly after with a bundle of cloth, which he threw up to us. Lord Rhys caught it and to my surprise unwrapped a large cloak.

  “Come here,” he ordered and enveloped us both in the cloak.

  I had no choice but to lean back against him, his strong arms holding me firmly. The thick wool cloth shed the water and slowly his body heat seeped through and warmed me.

  “Thank you,” I said grudgingly, not particularly liking the idea of being beholden to him.

  “Don’t you even have a proper cloak?” he asked. “A fine runaway you make.”

  “I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to prepare!”

  “Why not?”

  So far he had used every bit of knowledge gleaned about me to bind me more securely, so I didn’t intend to tell him the reason for my precipitous escape. “I just didn’t. Besides, I have a cloak, but I wrapped it around my things.”

  He snorted. “Typical Sikhandi, no sense at all.”

  The trees parted when we reached the valley floor and he tensed when we came out into the open. To reach the road, we first had to cross a shallow ford. The water rushed around Hami’s feet and he stopped to have a drink, sucking water up with his trunk, keeping it there for a moment to warm it up and then squirting it with great gusto in his mouth. He probably would have liked a bath as well, never mind the cold, and I felt guilty at urging him on. His skin might look tough as old leather, but it was quite sensitive and needed to be washed regularly.

  Lord Rhys directed me to make Hami walk across the gravel where his footprints wouldn’t show, and we joined the road. There were no traces of the horses going before us except a few hoof prints, brushed out by the men following us with branches cut from the trees. I could feel the tension in the man behind me, but he said little except to acknowledge the reports of his scouts who ran up periodically.

  After about a league he told me to leave the road and follow a barely perceptible track leading up the opposite hillside. Soon we plunged into dense woods again where the path ran parallel to the road, but farther up. With warmth slowly returning to my limbs, I almost fell into a doze from Hami’s regular, rocking motion, for I hadn’t slept too well.

  Suddenly Owl came running up, making Hami snort in alarm. “Enemies approaching,” she told us in a harsh whisper.

  “Where?” Lord Rhys snapped.

  “Not far down the road.”

  A moment later we heard it ourselves: the sound of hoof beats rapidly getting closer. The knife, which I had all but forgotten, reappeared at my waist, accompanied by a cold whisper. “Remember, if you value your elephant’s life, don’t do anything foolish.”

  I clenched my hands into fists, wondering if I could get Hami to throw him, but he sat very snug against me. Through the trees we could glimpse a stretch of the road, and that moment a rider came into view, carrying the banner of the Victorious Fifth. It hung limply in the rain, the leopard on it rather sorry looking. Next a full company of riders followed, led by a man on a prancing black horse. My breath caught. Sattar!

  Hurriedly I reached out to pat Hami’s head to keep him silent. The horses must have caught his scent, for a ripple of nervousness spread through them. Extending my senses in a rush, I reached out for their simple horse minds, filling them with a sense of calm. “All is fine,” I whispered, “there is nothing here to harm you.” Recognising my familiar touch, they settled down again. I released my breath in relief.

  Neither of us moved as they trotted by close enough for us to hear the copper medallions on the helmets clinking. Only when they disappeared around the next bend of the road did I relax slowly. My mind was working furiously. Riders from the Victorious Fifth here! They rode the way I had been heading, towards the pass into Sikhand. What a piece of bad luck. Even if I managed to escape from my Aneiry bandits, I would just run smack into Sattar instead. My situation seemed much like that of the man caught between a raging tiger and a furious dragon in the ancient tale. He had set the two beasts on each other, but that was not an option open to me if I wanted to avoid further bloodshed. Nudging Hami behind the ears, I set him to ambling down the path again.

  Lord Rhys had been thinking, too. “The prince has sent a large patrol after you,” he said. “He must want you back badly.” From the tone of his voice he thought it a mystery why.

  “It seems so,” I agreed curtly.

  “The man leading them, you knew him. Who is he?”

  Why should he care? “Nobody important.”

  “Who is he?” Lord Rhys demanded to know.

  “The Master of Elephants.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  I hesitated, surprised at the suppressed anger in his voice. “Nothing. I told you, we had a slight disagreement, but it doesn’t matter.”

  Owl came loping up that moment, back from trailing the riders down the road. Though she had bee
n running uphill, the Khotai woman was barely out of breath. “Eagle,” she called, “will we ambush them? If we take the mountain paths, we can get ahead of them and surprise them at night.” Her teeth flashed in a predatory grin.

  I tensed and wrapped the cloak closer around me. Quite probably I knew at least half the soldiers that had ridden by, most of them decent men that just had the misfortune of being posted north of the mountains. And the Eagle was well known for never leaving any survivors.

  Lord Rhys had been considering Owl’s suggestion, but now came to a decision. “No, we don’t have the time. We need to get back for Lord Pellyn.”

  Slowly I released my breath and relaxed. Whoever this Lord Pellyn was, he had my deep gratitude. Owl disappeared down the trail again and we continued our journey through the dripping forest.

  “I was wrong before, wasn’t I,” Lord Rhys said suddenly. “I thought you were afraid of the man, but you were actually afraid for him.”

  “That’s none of your business,” I snapped.

  Brooding silence greeted my words.

  SIX

  We continued travelling all day and after crossing the hills descended into another wide valley on the other side. Dense woods still clothed the land, but as we progressed, I spotted the occasional small farm. Towards evening the clouds dispersed and the sun burst through, splashing extravagant colour all over the sky, and we stopped at an abandoned farmstead. Once, it must have been a fine place, with large stables, barns and many outbuildings, but now most of the roofs were caved in, and weeds overgrew the kitchen garden and orchard. By the side of the road rose a large stone cairn.