Free Uneasy alliances - Thieves World 11 by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey Page B
Authors: Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey
him, though he doubted it. This man was at hand. Was Stilcho. He saw Ischade's former lover, conspicuous in his shabby cloak and in the black patch which covered his missing eye. City guards hastened him along with a firm grip on his arms; and Strat's mind raced wildly, trying to make connections with facts which did not, no matter how he pushed and pulled them, fit any pattern he could understand. And damn it all, Ischade and her household were not what he wanted to deal with now.
Except Stilcho was no longer Ischade's. Nor was Moria. And somehow, for some terrible reason, they were here, under this wan gray sky, with Crit missing, himself and Stilcho who had met often enough in Ischade's house; and Moria under arrest: that was at least some vestige of
connection in events, but it was on the wrong problem, surely it was the wrong problem.
"Stilcho," he said, and did not tell the guards to let him go. One of them handed him the paper.
Ischade's spidery, elaborate hand. Her signet. To Critias, under the
THE BEST OF FRIENDS 259
authority of His Imperial Highness Theron, and His Grace Kadakithis. Commander of the City: You have arrested one of my servants for possession of property I gave her, to which she has legal title. The lady Moria is
therefore innocent of wrongdoing. I ask for her immediate release and will
thank you for your prompt and earnest attention to this matter. Under my personal seal: Ischade, herself.
Straton read it through twice. To Critias.
Critias.
"Let him go," he said sharply, and when the guards did not take their cue: "Leave him!" And waited until the city guard was out of earshot, the
paper trembling in his hand. "What's this have to do with Critias?"
"To do with—"
"My partner's missing, dammit, missing while the city guard hauled Moria and that gold out of a jeweler's shop, the last damn place they saw
him! Where is he?"
"I don't know," Stilcho said, bewildered-looking, and was not lying. Straton's heart sank. the little that that chance Jiad raised it. "I don't
know. Moria got picked up—that's all. Critias was there. I saw him. Comer of Regent Land and High Street. He was on a gray horse. I didn't want to get picked up too; I ran and he didn't follow. That's the truth, Strat. I was one of you. My oath—it's the truth, it's all I know."
"Moria know anything?"
Stilcho shook his head. "I don't think so. I was there because she sneaked out with the gold, I knew she was going to get in trouble—" It was too much truth now. Stilcho let his voice trail off, with that desperate
look in his eyes, the look of a man who had committed himself too far to a man no longer in the same game. "It's in the letter. Her seal."
"Her seal. Dammit to hell, is this her game?"
"No! Gods—no, I don't think so."
She wrote to Critias. She didn't know.
But by the gods, she can find out.
"Sergeant!"
"Sir!"
"Tablet. Fast." He grabbed Stilcho by the arm, pulled him close. "I thought you'd left her house. Alive."
"I'm g-going b-back." Stilcho pulled to free the arm, desisted when he did not make it easily. The single eye was desperate, distraught. "N-not easy b-being on the streets."
"I can slip you into the guard. Call it a favor. You could have come to me. I owe you one."
"Too Mate." There was all hell in that look. "Too late." 260 UNEASY ALLIANCES
"She's got you." Dead again? In the chill of the wind, there was no way to tell.
"She's got me. And M-Moria. No help for us. Strat, for godssakes, get Moria out of there—if you owe me anything, get her out of that hole—" The sergeant came up with the tablet and a stylus. Straton took it and wrote: Walegrin—and a long scratch that stood for all the damned protocols. Send the woman Moria to the palace guardstation with this messenger and your order to hold her there until I sign the release. Straton, for
Critias— Another long line, for all Crit's authorizations. He slammed his
ring into the soft wax of the tablet and shut it. "No damn time for
Except Stilcho was no longer Ischade's. Nor was Moria. And somehow, for some terrible reason, they were here, under this wan gray sky, with Crit missing, himself and Stilcho who had met often enough in Ischade's house; and Moria under arrest: that was at least some vestige of
connection in events, but it was on the wrong problem, surely it was the wrong problem.
"Stilcho," he said, and did not tell the guards to let him go. One of them handed him the paper.
Ischade's spidery, elaborate hand. Her signet. To Critias, under the
THE BEST OF FRIENDS 259
authority of His Imperial Highness Theron, and His Grace Kadakithis. Commander of the City: You have arrested one of my servants for possession of property I gave her, to which she has legal title. The lady Moria is
therefore innocent of wrongdoing. I ask for her immediate release and will
thank you for your prompt and earnest attention to this matter. Under my personal seal: Ischade, herself.
Straton read it through twice. To Critias.
Critias.
"Let him go," he said sharply, and when the guards did not take their cue: "Leave him!" And waited until the city guard was out of earshot, the
paper trembling in his hand. "What's this have to do with Critias?"
"To do with—"
"My partner's missing, dammit, missing while the city guard hauled Moria and that gold out of a jeweler's shop, the last damn place they saw
him! Where is he?"
"I don't know," Stilcho said, bewildered-looking, and was not lying. Straton's heart sank. the little that that chance Jiad raised it. "I don't
know. Moria got picked up—that's all. Critias was there. I saw him. Comer of Regent Land and High Street. He was on a gray horse. I didn't want to get picked up too; I ran and he didn't follow. That's the truth, Strat. I was one of you. My oath—it's the truth, it's all I know."
"Moria know anything?"
Stilcho shook his head. "I don't think so. I was there because she sneaked out with the gold, I knew she was going to get in trouble—" It was too much truth now. Stilcho let his voice trail off, with that desperate
look in his eyes, the look of a man who had committed himself too far to a man no longer in the same game. "It's in the letter. Her seal."
"Her seal. Dammit to hell, is this her game?"
"No! Gods—no, I don't think so."
She wrote to Critias. She didn't know.
But by the gods, she can find out.
"Sergeant!"
"Sir!"
"Tablet. Fast." He grabbed Stilcho by the arm, pulled him close. "I thought you'd left her house. Alive."
"I'm g-going b-back." Stilcho pulled to free the arm, desisted when he did not make it easily. The single eye was desperate, distraught. "N-not easy b-being on the streets."
"I can slip you into the guard. Call it a favor. You could have come to me. I owe you one."
"Too Mate." There was all hell in that look. "Too late." 260 UNEASY ALLIANCES
"She's got you." Dead again? In the chill of the wind, there was no way to tell.
"She's got me. And M-Moria. No help for us. Strat, for godssakes, get Moria out of there—if you owe me anything, get her out of that hole—" The sergeant came up with the tablet and a stylus. Straton took it and wrote: Walegrin—and a long scratch that stood for all the damned protocols. Send the woman Moria to the palace guardstation with this messenger and your order to hold her there until I sign the release. Straton, for
Critias— Another long line, for all Crit's authorizations. He slammed his
ring into the soft wax of the tablet and shut it. "No damn time for
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