The Redemption of Althalus (35 page)

“I ordered him not to, Albron,” Althalus stepped in. “We were on a sort of secret mission, and I didn’t want any unfriendly eyes catching sight of our boy. That’s one of the things we’ll want to talk about when we’re alone.”

“You’re definitely stirring up a lot of curiosity, Althalus. Why don’t we adjourn to my study where we can talk more freely? I feel a long, interesting story in the works here—and I’d really appreciate an introduction to these two lovely young ladies.”

“If I might suggest it, maybe Sergeant Khalor should sit in,” Althalus said. “I think he’s going to be involved before long, so he might as well hear this from the beginning.”

One of Albron’s eyebrows went up.

“I’m hiring, Chief Albron,” Althalus said bluntly.” Are you interested?”

“I’m always ready to talk business, Althalus,” Albron replied, rubbing his hands together.

“What
really
happened in Osthos, Eliar?” Sergeant Khalor demanded as they all followed Chief Albron down a long, torchlit corridor toward the back of the stone castle. “Your friends were very confused when they finally got home.”

“I’m not really all that sure myself, Sergeant Khalor,” Eliar confessed. “There were a lot of things going on that I didn’t understand back then, and they still don’t make too much sense. Althalus bought me and the others from Andine. He told her that he was going to sell us to the Ansus to work as slaves in the salt mines.”

“As I remember it, Andine wanted to drink all your blood along about then. What made her change her mind?”

“Emmy took care of that.”

“Who’s Emmy?”

“She works with Althalus. I think I’d better let him explain that: if I tried, I’d get it all scrambled. There’s a whole lot going on that I don’t understand.”

The room Chief Albron had called his study was a comfortable sort of chamber with a large fireplace and a rush-strewn floor. It had a number of books, as well as quite a few scrolls, on a long shelf. “Do you read very much, Althalus?” the kilted young Chief asked.

“I’ve studied quite a bit, Albron—mostly one fairly large book. You’ve got quite a few volumes here.”

“A hobby of mine. I’ve taken a fancy to Treborean poetry here lately.”

“And who’s your favorite?” Andine asked.

“I rather like the sweep of the epics of Sendhri, madam,” Albron replied, “one of the major poets of Kanthon.”

“You’re wasting your time, Chief Albron,” she told him vehemently. “Kanthonese poetry isn’t worth the parchment it’s written on.”

“Our dear Arya has opinions, Chief Albron,” Leitha said with a faint smile.

“Arya?”

“How forgetful of me,” Althalus said. “Chief Albron, the dark-haired young lady with the musical voice is Arya Andine, the ruler of Osthos. The blond lady with the clever tongue is Leitha, the witch of Kweron.”

“Witch?”
Albron’s eyes looked startled.

“I’ll get you for that, Althalus,” Leitha threatened. “Actually, Chief Albron, it was a misunderstanding. Our local priest had some unpriestly appetites, and since he was so unspeakably holy, he assumed that any young lady who stirred those appetites absolutely
had
to be a witch. He had some plans to use me for firewood, but Althalus and Bheid persuaded him not to do that.”

Chief Albron bowed. “My house is honored, ladies,” he said formally.

“Young Bheid here is a priest of Deiwos from Awes in Medyo,” Althalus continued, “and the boy’s name is Gher. He’s from Hule, and I’m training him to be a thief.”

“You have an oddly assorted group of companions, Althalus. Oh, by the way, did you ever find that knife you were looking for?”

“Oh, yes. Eliar’s got it tucked under his belt right now.”

“I thought you were going to take it to your uncle back in Ansu.”

“Ah . . . Actually, the story I told you when I was here last time wasn’t entirely true.” Althalus made a slight face. “When you get right down to it, Albron, I just made it up out of whole cloth. If I’d tried to tell you why I
really
needed the Knife, you’d have had me chained up as a dangerous lunatic. I hate to admit it, but I’m sort of working for God.”

“You struck me as a man with better sense than that, Althalus. Is
that
what this is all about?”

“I’m afraid so. It wasn’t really my idea, but God has ways to make people do what she tells them to do.”

“She?”

“It’s fairly complicated.”

Albron shook his head with an expression of profound disbelief. “I thought better of you. You aren’t going to have much luck here in Arum, I’m afraid. We
don’t
get involved in religious wars. They’re too messy, for one thing, and we’d rather not have our young men coming home after a war with assorted lunacies sticking out of their ears. Arums fight for money, not for religion.”

“I’m
paying
money, Albron, and nobody has to believe in anything to work for me.” Althalus reached into his tunic and took out two of the oval bars of his gold. “Do
these
sort of get your attention, Chief Albron?” He handed the bars to the startled Chief.

Albron hefted the two bars. “Well, now,” he said, breaking into a broad grin. “I’d say that these
definitely
give us something to talk about.”

“I rather thought you might see it that way. I’m offering gold, Albron, not eternal life or a seat at God’s supper table. There’s a war in the works, and I need soldiers, not converts.”

“If you can keep it on that footing, Althalus, I’d guess that every clan in Arum’s going to fall in behind you.”

Althalus took back his two bars of gold. “Now, then,” he said, “as a demonstration of my sense of financial responsibility, why don’t we settle up the Eliar account? How much do I owe you for his services this past summer?”

“What’s the going rate, Sergeant Khalor?” Albron asked his officer.

“Oh, two gold pieces ought to cover it, my Chief,” the kilted Khalor replied.

“Two?”
Althalus protested. “He’s only a boy!”

“He’s got leadership potential, Althalus.”

“I’m not buying potential, Khalor. I’m buying what he is right now. One silver penny ought to cover that. He may become a general later, but that’s off in the future.”

“You took him without Chief Albron’s permission,” Khalor pointed out. “There’s a penalty involved in that.”

“He was a captive—and Andine was on the verge of cutting him up into little pieces.”

“That’s true,” Khalor conceded, “and you
did
sort of save his life, I guess. I might be able to go as low as one gold piece.”

“A half gold piece. Nothing higher.”

“Fifteen silver pennies,” Khalor countered.

“Twelve.”

“Just to keep this on a friendly footing, why don’t we say thirteen?”

“Remind me never to trade horses with you, Sergeant Khalor,” Althalus said sourly. “All right—thirteen, then.”

“I think Sergeant Khalor might be just about due for a promotion,” Chief Albron mused.

“I don’t know that we need to go into any extended details here, Chief Albron,” Althalus said somewhat later. “When you get right down to it, we’re not so much fighting for
our
religion as we’re fighting
against
somebody
else’s.
There’s a man named Ghend who wants to convert the whole world to the worship of
his
God. We’re going to prevent that. Ghend’s formed little secret groups of his converts in most of the lowland countries, and those cults are stirring up rebellions. The official armies down there are mostly ceremonial. They’re very good at polishing their armor, but not much good in a fight. That’s why I’m here. Arums are
real
soldiers, and I want to hire them to train and advise the lowlanders to fight their own wars—at least
this
one.”

“You’re asking me to put myself out of business,
Althalus,” Albron objected.

“Not really. After we’ve smashed Ghend’s armies, things should go back to normal. The princes of the low countries will still break out in rashes of ambition, and they’ll come here to Arum to hire professionals to do their fighting. It’s a matter of economics, Albron. It’s very expensive to train and maintain any army. Even when there’s no war, you have to keep feeding them. It’s cheaper in the long run to hire Arums.”

“How big is your treasury, Althalus?” Albron asked.

“Big enough—I hope. How long do you think it’s going to take to gather the Clan Chiefs together for a general conclave? I’d like to talk to them all at one time.”

“Next spring’s probably as early as they can all make it,” Albron replied. “Once the passes are snowed in, nobody travels in Arum.”

Althalus feigned a thoughtful expression.
Will that be soon enough,
Em?
He sent his silent question back over his shoulder.

That’s more or less what I’d planned, Althalus,
she replied.
I know
Arums well enough to realize that it takes them a while to get started. Ghend
isn’t quite ready yet either, so I’d say that the war won’t start until about the
middle of next summer.

I’ll check my schedule and see if I can work it in,
he told her.

The rivers rushed cold and clear through the canyons, and eagles soared on high, and wolves stalked the forests.

The mountains and forests were silent, silent. And then from afar came the wailing of utter despair. And with that wailing, the people came out of the west. Crude they were, clad in half-rotten hides of beasts, and red were their tools and weapons—axes and mattocks of ruddy copper.

And Ghend walked among the people, whispering, whispering, and his eyes burned the ruddy flame of copper.

And the people were afraid.

But Ghend urged them on, and to the rivers they went, and behold, gold was in the rivers, and Ghend commanded them, saying, “Seek the gold, O ye people, and offer it up to Daeva, who is your God, for gold is fair in the eyes of Daeva, and he will bless ye in that ye offer it unto him.”

And the people fell to hard toil, searching the rivers for yellow gold, and all the while, the wailing echoed from the mountainsides, and the people were afraid, afraid as they toiled.

“Noisy night, wasn’t it?” Althalus said to the shaken Chief Albron the following morning.

“Were you having nightmares, too?” Albron asked.

“Oh, yes—and so was everybody else, most likely. That’s not all that unusual, you know. An overripe piece of meat in the stew can do strange things to everybody at the supper table. This particular nightmare didn’t grow out of rotten meat, though. It was a present from Ghend. You saw a group of frightened people dressed in fur and carrying copper tools, right?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I had the same dream, Albron. Most likely everybody in the castle had that dream. Ghend’s done this before. He’s trying to change reality. That’s what this upcoming war’s all about. Ghend wants to change some things that we don’t want changed, so we’re going to stop him.”

“How in the world can you stop somebody with
that
kind of power?” Albron’s face had gone ashen, and his hands were trembling.

“I sort of thought I might kill him just a little bit,” Althalus replied. “People usually cooperate with you after you’ve killed them.”

“Would you like to borrow my sword?” Albron offered. “Did you hear that dreadful howling sound during
your
dream?” he asked, shuddering.

“Oh, yes,” Althalus replied fervently. “Any time you hear that, you’ll know that Ghend’s playing tricks with your mind and that what you’re seeing is something that
he
thought up.”

“How did you find
that
out?”

“You don’t really want me to answer that, Albron. You’re a confirmed skeptic, and if I told you where I got this information, you’d think that I was trying to convert you. I’m not a missionary. I don’t tamper with the beliefs of other men. That isn’t why Dweia hired me. She hired me because I’m the finest thief who ever lived.”

“You’re getting paid to do this?”

“Of course. It’s very unprofessional to work for nothing. Oh, speaking of that, I’ll be gone for the next few days. I think I’d better pay a little visit to my gold mine—unless you and the other Chiefs of Arum would care to accept my promissory note. I’d be happy to sign, of course, but—” He broke off, grinning broadly.

“If it’s all the same to you, my friend, why don’t we keep all accounts current?” Albron replied.

“I rather thought you might look at it that way. My name might be responsible for that. Isn’t it one of the commandments of the Arum religion not to trust anybody named Althalus?”

“It’s right up at the top of the list, my friend.”

“Perquaine?”
Eliar objected the next morning after he, Althalus, and Bheid had returned to the House. “There isn’t any gold in Perquaine, Althalus.”

“That depends on where you took,” Althalus replied. “It’s not a natural gold deposit, Eliar. It’s a treasure room in the ruins of an old house.”

“How did you find it?” Bheid asked him.

“Emmy took me there when we were on our way to Osthos. How much detail do you need to find the right door, Eliar?”

“Not too much, really,” Eliar answered. “Emmy and I practiced a bit before we all went to my Chief’s castle.
You
have to know exactly where you want to go, but I don’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Eliar,” Bheid objected.

“I know. I told Emmy the same thing, but she showed me that I was wrong. The Knife’s involved in it somehow. If Althalus has a sort of picture of the place in his mind, the Knife picks up that picture and tells me which door I’m looking for. I guess the Knife can do the same sort of thing Leitha does. It reaches out and picks the information it needs out of people’s minds. Then it tells me where to go. Emmy wasn’t really too clear when she was telling me how it worked. You know how she is sometimes. She said that it wasn’t important for me to know
how
it worked, just that it
would.
”

“That’s our Emmy, all right,” Bheid said. “And there’s a lot more to that Knife than she’s told us, I think.”