“The foreigners’ quarter,” Kaleb said, making a face. “In the worst part of the Harbor District. We are, of course, welcome to take rooms wherever they’re available—but they only seem to be available right around here. I think the Vudrani like to keep us where they can find us. They still talk about how ‘mainlanders’ will try to move into a place that doesn’t belong to them if it’s left unattended for a moment, as if the occupation by the Arclords happened just last week. On the other hand, there are a couple of places here where you can get decent food and wine like they have back home, and hear people speak familiar languages.” He stopped at a narrow building three stories tall and opened the front door with a key. “I’m on the top floor. I should get to work if you’re really coming back tomorrow morning.”

  Since the man’s key had opened the door, Rodrick felt fairly comfortable that this was actually his real home, and not a trick. It was always possible he’d take the ruby and flee without doing the work, which would be inconvenient, but Rodrick thought the man really did want to finance his studies further. Life was full of risks and chances, but this one didn’t strike Rodrick as too big a gamble.

  Rodrick strolled around the foreigners’ quarter, pausing at a couple of cafes and wine shops that had outdoor tables, but they were populated by scholarly types talking animatedly about ancient history or scribbling notes. A couple of discreet inquiries about where a man might find a dice game eventually led him to a staircase that disappeared belowground. “Sorry, Hrym, it’s in the scabbard with you. The sight of you would distract the honest, simple souls down there.”

  “I bet the rajah wouldn’t shove me in a scabbard.”

  Hrym unfroze himself from the outside of the leather scabbard, and Rodrick slid him inside the golden sheath. He wished for a mirror—he needed to look just right, rich yet not entirely reputable—but you couldn’t have everything.

  The steps were cracked and unswept, and the basement room at the bottom—calling it a filthy rum-pit would be giving it too much credit—had the combination of darkness and muttering sullen occupants he’d hoped for.

  There were Vudrani here among paler faces from the north side of the Inner Sea, but their clothes were less rich than those he’d seen elsewhere, their eyes more narrowed, or else their smiles were too wide and their jewelry too flashy. Every city had places where unsavory types gathered, and Rodrick always felt at home in those. He sidled up to the bar and asked for an ale—“Something that tastes like it was made on my side of the Obari Ocean, if possible”—and the bartender slid him a tankard. Rodrick laid a thick gold coin on the bar. “Drinks for anyone else who wants them until this runs out, too.”

  The bartender, a woman who looked like she had a touch of orc in her ancestry, raised one eyebrow and said, “That starts with me, then.” She poured herself a shot of something from a bottle she took down from a very high shelf. Some of the others overheard his offer and crowded around, muttering thanks and looking at him frankly or sidelong depending on their natures.

  “You’re new here,” a Vudrani man with an oiled beard said, ordering a glass of some bright-red cordial on Rodrick’s coin.

  “I am,” Rodrick said. “I heard of the wonders of Jalmeray and thought I’d come see them for myself. I must admit, the place is nice enough. I might pick up a few souvenirs to take back home, if I can find the right ship to carry me back.”

  “What kind of ship might that be?”

  “One where the captain doesn’t inquire too closely about who I am, or what I’m carrying with me. Only because I value my privacy, you see.”

  The fellow stroked his beard. “A man like me might know a man who has a ship like that.”

  “There could be coin in it for someone who points me toward a helpful captain.” He sipped his ale, which was terrible, but it was always terrible in places like this, in every country Rodrick had ever visited. “Of course, someone who thought to take advantage of my good nature might not get gold, or silver, or even copper. They might get paid in steel instead.” The man frowned, and Rodrick sighed. “What I’m saying is, if you try to cheat me or lure me somewhere to steal my purse, I’ll put a sword through your neck.”

  The man’s expression smoothed out. “Ah, of course. That’s just good business sense. I could … make a few inquiries. Though that takes time, and effort…”

  “I’m not showing you the color of my coin on a promise,” Rodrick said. “Order another drink on me and call that your advance, all right?”

  The man nodded slowly. “Meet me back here this time tomorrow?”

  “That works. If you have a friend with the kind of discreet ship we talked about, bring him. We might have things to talk about, and I’ll pay for his time, and a finder’s fee for you.”

  The man bowed and slid away, disappearing up the stairs. More risks. Maybe the man was an informant working for the thakur, but if so, Rodrick would just claim it was a misunderstanding—he was only trying to arrange passage home to avoid infringing further on the thakur’s hospitality, he had no idea he was talking to a criminal, let alone a man who knew smugglers—and hope his charm would see him through. It had done so often enough before. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d need a smuggler’s help getting off the island, but he wanted to have access to transportation that wasn’t arranged by the thakur’s people, just in case. Better to have the contingency in place. Such plans had saved him more than once.

  He finished his drink and went back upstairs, continuing to saunter through the streets, getting a feel for the city, and coincidentally figuring out the most efficient route to get from the vicinity of the palace down to the docks. When Hrym complained, Rodrick drew the blade and froze him to the outside of the scabbard on his back. After a few minutes, Hrym said, “Someone’s following us.”

  Without breaking stride, Rodrick said, “Dangerous thug? Sneaky agent of the palace? Terrifying djinn armed with scimitars? Street urchin with aspirations to purse-snatching?”

  “Woman dressed in leather,” Hrym said.

  “Ooh,” Rodrick said. “That sounds promising.”

  11

  Collector

  Rodrick was walking in a residential district, all beautiful homes of stone and jewel-toned glass surrounded by low ornamental fences, with front yards decorated with statues and fountains and shrubs grown in fanciful shapes. After Hrym told him they were being followed, Rodrick continued on, taking a couple of right-hand turnings into narrower streets, then hurrying up a set of stairs to a small courtyard with a few stone benches and a statue of a man sitting on a bull playing a flute (the man was playing the flute, not the bull). He leaned against a wall, Hrym in his hand, and when a woman dressed all in black leather with short blonde hair reached the top of the stairs, he said, “Hello. You’ve followed me all this way, so I assume you want something?”

  She narrowed her eyes, looked around—including upward, as if on the lookout for lurking djinn, which was a bit pointless since they could become invisible—and moved to put a bench between herself and him. Reasonable behavior when facing a man with a sword. “I saw you go into that tavern, but I wanted to speak to you somewhere more private. I was just … waiting for the right moment to approach you.”

  She wasn’t pretty, exactly, though that could have been a side effect of her permanent scowl and the short hair, which wasn’t particularly flattering on her. She was at least a head shorter than Rodrick, maybe a year or three older, and she looked like the kind of person who’d stick a knife in anyone who tried to steal a kiss; people who dressed mostly in black leather were generally trying to cultivate an air of unapproachability and menace, in his experience.

  “Why do you look familiar to me?” he said. In truth, he’d remembered her instantly. He hadn’t seen so many black-clad blonde women on this island that he couldn’t keep them straight. She was the one who’d been watching him in the streets, when Nagesh was taking him to the palace, but there was no reason to let her know how observant he was. Rodrick made a point of letting people assume he was lazy and unobservant, when he was really only lazy, and even then only about certain things.

  “I can’t imagine.” She met his eyes and lied with a straight face. He could respect that.

  “Mmm, a strange woman, so captivated by the sight of me that she stalks me through the streets. It’s understandable. I’m very compelling.”

  She stepped over the bench and sat down. “We might be able to help one another.”

  He didn’t sit, but he did put Hrym away. “I can be very helpful, with the proper incentives. What did you have in mind?”

  “You’re staying in the palace, an invited guest of the thakur. He’s even met with you personally, I understand. That grants you access to places that not many foreigners can reach.”

  Aha. He was on the inside, and someone wanted his help with an inside job. He wasn’t opposed, in theory, but there were some suspicions he needed to voice first.

  “By that accent you’re trying so hard to disguise, you come from Nex,” Rodrick said, and was gratified when the woman’s eyes widened. Possibly a misstep, but he couldn’t help showing off a little, and maybe it would keep her off balance. He’d met a few people from Nex in Absalom, and knew the flavor of their voices. “I understand some powerful factions in Nex have … disagreements with the rulers of Jalmeray.” Let the woman think he had a complete and complex understanding of the political situation, rather than just the brief history sketched out for him by a biased priest on the passage across the sea. “If you see me as an opportunity to hire a killer inside the palace, I’m afraid I have to decline. For one thing, I never take on work that is certain to end in my own execution, and for another, I’m not an assassin at any price.”

  The woman looked around again. “I am well aware of your limitations.” She raised one eyebrow and regarded him coolly. “You aren’t the only one who knows things, Rodrick. I made inquiries with some friends of mine back home, and learned all about you.”

  “Not all, surely. I’m a complex man.”

  “He’s not that complex,” Hrym said.

  The woman ignored the sword. “You’re a thief, and a confidence trickster. The fact that you aren’t more notorious speaks well of your abilities—most people think you’re an adventurer, notable only for the sword you carry. Speaking of, just how many times have you sold that wondrous blade of yours?”

  “Oh, once or twice. Hrym is very popular, but somehow he always finds his way back into my hands.” The first scam he and Hrym had ever pulled together was enchanting an ordinary sword to look like Hrym and selling the fake as the real thing. It was still a reliable fallback job when they couldn’t come up with a better scheme. People seldom complained about being duped, though obviously someone had, if she’d heard about it. Usually no one liked to admit they’d been played for a fool, which was a great help when it came to providing tricksters with job security. He wondered if she might tell the wrong person about that detail from his background and spoil his plans with the thakur. Probably not; the thakur was unlikely to give an audience to a woman from Nex, or take a message from one too seriously. Still, it might be better to keep her happy. “So it’s theft you want, then? I haven’t been given the keys to the thakur’s private vaults, alas. What do the Arclords want to steal from the palace that I could reach?”

  She hissed at him. “Speak softly! Don’t mention the … those particular lords, here, if you’re wise. Jalmeray has decent relations with Nex as a whole, but that … particular faction … is not looked upon fondly on these shores. Yes, it’s true I’m from Nex, but I’m here for my own reasons, not a servant of those particular wizards.”

  “Fine, then what do you, personally, as a private individual, want me to steal? Please tell me it’s the jewel from the navel of the thakur’s prettiest wife—that would be an enjoyable challenge.”

  She smiled. “Mmm. It would be, wouldn’t it?”

  Rodrick blinked. This was a more interesting woman than he’d initially supposed.

  “But, no. Nothing so … adventurous. Or as likely to end with your messy death. I have not come to Jalmeray for jewels—you can find jewels anywhere. I’m here because I love knowledge.”

  Rodrick grunted. “Knowledge can be nice. Like knowing where a chest full of gold is kept, and how well it’s guarded. Or knowing a secret a rich person would rather keep secret—that can be useful knowledge. I’m not an intimate of the thakur’s, though. I don’t imagine he’ll tell me anything that could be used as blackmail.”

  “You misunderstand me. I’m a collector of old things, forbidden and forgotten knowledge, and there’s something in the palace I’d like very much for you to collect on my behalf. The thakur has a great library, and in that library there are thousands of scrolls. I want one of them. As a guest in the palace, you have access to the library, yes?”

  Rodrick nodded slowly. He’d paid more attention to the parts of the tour that involved the dining room, and the gardens, and the baths, and the long gallery with precious works of art (including some statues small enough to fit into a pocket without making much of a bulge)—but yes, there’d been a library, too, with tall wooden doors carved with the image of a serenely smiling woman with four arms, holding book and pen and scroll and lantern in her many hands. “I do.”

  “If the scroll in question were to make its way to me, I’d be grateful, and by grateful I mean extremely generous with coin.”

  Rodrick considered. “Is it likely to be guarded?”

  She shook her head. “I doubt the scroll has even been glanced at in centuries. No one will notice if it goes missing. When the Vudrani returned and took the island from the … former inhabitants … they destroyed most of their works and monuments and buildings, but the Vudrani revere knowledge, and so many of the scrolls and books were kept, stored in a dusty corner of the library, where they’ve remained ever since. Back home, I came across a very old manifest, listing items that were lost in the emergency evacuation of this island, and while most of the books and scrolls are either uninteresting or exist in duplicate form elsewhere, there’s one rare item that would be a crowning addition to my collection. I did some research and found out where the items are housed, and came here in hopes of talking my way into the library as a scholar, but the thakur is very particular about letting foreigners into the palace.” She looked him up and down and muttered, “Even though he let you in. Why did he do that, anyway?”

  “I think I’ll keep my business to myself, thanks. We were talking about your business. I’m not opposed, in theory, but finding one particular scroll in a vast array of jumbled documents…”

  She leaned toward him, suddenly eager. “In that, we are lucky. The records I’ve seen say the scroll was stored in a very distinctive case—I can give you a description. And if you can’t find it…” She shrugged, doing her best to look like it was a matter of no consequence. “Then I will be disappointed, and you will be unpaid.”

  Rodrick stroked his chin. It seemed like just his sort of job—low risk for a decent reward. If he’d been asked to steal documents from the thakur’s desk, he would have assumed there was some greater intrigue at work, and refused—he was even less willing to be tangled in politics than he was to commit an assassination—but something that could be taken from a library even he could access wouldn’t be that valuable, would it? He’d met a few collectors in his time, and they were fanatics about the strangest things—particular bits of porcelain from certain places made at certain times, or tiny carvings by artists who’d died a long time ago in impoverished obscurity, or, indeed, very old books and scrolls, sometimes in languages few could be bothered to read anymore.

  Which wasn’t to say he believed the woman. Safest to assume everyone was lying at all times. But he could take her stated story as a place to begin. Besides, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t look at the scroll before whisking it out of the palace. If it appeared to be something more than a historical curiosity—if it were labeled “Incantation to Expel the Vudrani from Jalmeray and Usher in the Return of the Arclords,” say—he could always change his mind and slide it back onto the shelf.

  “What’s your name?”

  She smiled. “You may call me Grimschaw.”

  “All right, Grimschaw. Why don’t you tell me exactly what I’m looking for, and exactly how much you’ll pay me to steal it?”

  * * *

  “Care to come to the library with me?” Rodrick said when they were back in their rooms at the palace. No one seemed to pay any attention to their comings and goings, which meant they were either trusted or considered unimportant or being followed very subtly indeed. The first two were fine with Rodrick, and he couldn’t do anything about the third, so no use worrying about it.

  “You dragged me through the streets and made me talk to assorted villains all day,” Hrym grumbled. “Put me down on a pile of gold. Unless you’re planning to take this scroll by force?”

  “I wouldn’t like to try to fight my way out of this palace,” Rodrick said. “If a librarian so much as glares at me, I will walk away and consider it a sign from one of this island’s ten thousand gods that my pilfering is not to be.”

  “Why did you agree to do this, anyway?” Hrym said. “We’ll get a trunk full of gold from the thakur. Just the jewels in that scabbard could set us up nicely back home. The money this Grimschaw is offering is nice for the effort involved, but it hardly compares.”

  “If all goes well, yes, we’ll be rich in two days’ time. But things could still fall apart on us, and if they do, won’t you be glad I took this other job?”

  “No. It’s a pointless risk. Admit it. You just like stealing.”

  “It’s good to do what you love. And, yes, fine, we don’t need this job, but it seems so easy, and it’s hard for me to leave coin lying in the street when all I have to do is bend over and pick it up. Even if I’m caught with the scroll, I’ll just say I took it from the library to read because it looked interesting. Oh, you mean things aren’t supposed to be removed from the library? Sorry, savage foreigner here, my mistake, please forgive me. We’re engaged in a high-risk, high-reward venture right now, and I’m happy to offset that a bit with a low-risk, moderate-reward venture.”