Free The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede Page A

behavior made her curious.
    “You, ah, came a long way to get that,” Maggen said, gesturing at the kit bag. “It’ll be awkward and heavy to carry all the way back, maybe dangerous, even.”
    Eleret almost laughed. Awkward and heavy? The kit weighed barely as much as a brace of pheasants. “So?”
    “So I’ll buy it from you.” Maggen leaned forward. “The whole thing. I’ve got a…friend who needs outfitting; this way I can get him fixed up and do you a favor at the same time. Money’s easy to carry.”
    “All that’s in this is a whetstone and comb.”
    Maggen’s ingratiating smile returned. “Well, I’ll pay you three stars. That’s more than it’s worth.”
    “It belonged to my mother. It has sentimental value.”
    “All right, four stars. You can buy a lot of sentiment for four stars.”
    You could buy a lot of other things, too, even at Ciaron’s prices, thought Eleret. Maggen was a fool, and whatever he wanted must be valuable indeed. “I’m still not interested.”
    “Five, then!”
    “Not for five stars nor for twenty-five stars,” Eleret replied. “I’m not selling Ma’s things.” In three quick steps she was past the door; by the time Maggen stepped out into the hallway she was well out of reach. He wasn’t likely to try anything in the heart of the headquarters of the Imperial Guard, especially in a hall where someone might come by at the wrong time.
    “You’ll be sorry you didn’t sell it to me!” Maggen called after her. “Wait and see. You’ll be sorry.”
    “I doubt it,” Eleret said over her shoulder, and kept walking. Maggen did not try to follow, and a few minutes later Eleret reached the building’s entrance. She nodded to the woman on guard, glanced back one last time to make certain Maggen was nowhere in sight, and stepped out to join the flow of traffic on the street.

FOUR
    T HREE STREETS DOWN AND two over from the offices of the Imperial Guard, Eleret stepped into a doorway and paused to consider.
    If she kept to the main streets, she was in little danger of direct attack, but among all these people it was impossible to tell whether she was being followed. Having slipped up once already, Eleret did not want to lead any more people back to the inn where she was staying. She might, however, lead them somewhere neutral, somewhere less crowded, where she would have a better chance of spotting them. Eleret smiled and stepped back into the street. At the next corner, she made the turn that would take her to the Islanders’ school.
    The press of people and wagons lessened as Eleret drew away from the main thoroughfares, and she quickened her step. Each time she turned a corner she managed to glance back along the street, and on her fourth turn she spotted a tall, narrow-faced man whom she was sure she had seen before. He was still behind her when she turned again. Eleret was considering whether or not to let him know she had seen him when a voice behind her called loudly, “That’s her! Stop, thief!”
    Startled, Eleret looked back. The narrow-faced man had been joined by a woman in the indigo-and-maroon uniform of the City Guard, and the two were heading purposefully in Eleret’s direction. Eleret glanced around, unable to quite believe she was the person they wanted. A young man in a scarlet cloak had paused, frowning, on the opposite side of the street; everyone else seemed to have melted into alleys and doorways.
    “Stop, thief!” the narrow-faced man called again, and this time it was plain even to Eleret that she was the one he meant.
    Mildly puzzled by the man’s behavior, Eleret stopped. A flash of irritation crossed the man’s face, as if he had neither expected nor wanted her to wait for him. Eleret’s puzzlement increased. Theft was a grave charge in the mountains, but Tamm had said once that the Ciaronese did not treat it as severely as Cilhar. She had also said that a false accusation was an even more serious matter in Ciaron than among the