coinsfrom a land-locked desert country. A fist-sized emerald would bemore believable.”
That made sense, but Vishni had never admitted tomaking a mistake and saw no reason to start now.
She gestured toward the dock, where the two fishermenwere now standing toe to toe. Their shoulders were squared, theirchests expanded with as much air and male menace as they couldhold.
“Tell me,” she said loftily, “that they don’t looklike men who think bigger means better.”
As she spoke, it occurred to her that humans were alot like tomcats. Both tried to make themselves look bigger beforestarting a fight. For a moment she considered giving the fishermenthe illusion of tails. In their current frame of mind, those tailswould be very fluffy. And it would be amusing to watch the tailstwitch and swish like an angry cat’s.
The expression on Fox’s face suggested that thiswould be more trouble than it was worth.
“What are you up to?” he said.
“Didn’t you notice the way that woman keeps lookingat the younger fisherman?”
“So?”
“So she’s married to the
“No.”
Vishni ignored this. “The boy who’s carrying away thebaskets of fish she’s sorting? I heard him call her Melina. That’sthe name written on the side of the fishing boat. Humans name boatsafter their people. Or maybe it’s the other way around,” she said.She gave herself a little shake. “Anyway, since the young fishermanis the one who gutted the fish, he’s obviously the worker and notthe owner.”
“Leave them alone, Vishni.”
“Once, you might have been interested in the plightof a common fisherman,” she said sadly. “Once, you had a grand andimportant quest of your own.”
A flicker of something that humans called “guilt”skittered across Fox’s face. Vishni didn’t understand this emotion,but it proved useful every now and again.
“Besides,” she added in a more cheerful tone, “everycollection of stories should have a morality tale of somesort.”
Fox drew breath to protest. She clapped her hand overhis mouth and tipped her head toward the dock to signify that theyshould stop talking and listen.
“The fish is mine,” insisted the bearded fisherman.“Any treasure in its belly is mine, as well.”
“No man can say I take anything that isn’t mine.” Theyoung man sent an insolent look toward the fish-sorting woman.“Leastwise, nothing that isn’t offered.”
The older man’s face darkened as he glanced at thewoman, who’d stopped her work to watch the small drama.
“If it’s my Melina you’re talking about, you’re aliar. And I can see by that coin in your shirt pocket that you’re athief, as well.”
“You know it’s my night to buy ale for the boys.”
“Not with my coin, you won’t!”
The youth sneered and held out hands that were bloodyto the elbow. “You go ahead and reach in after it. If it’s clean,you’ll know it came from no fish.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the bearded fishermanthrust his hand into the younger man’s pocket.
Both men stared blankly at the hoop of silver in hispalm.
“Or the ring could turn up in
Fox snatched the real ring from Vishni’s hand andhurried toward Melina, who was watching this exchange with a whiteface and guilty eyes.
“Did you by chance drop this ring?” he asked in acarrying voice.
Her husband turned toward them, murder simmering inhis eyes. “Another?” he roared. “How many markers do you have out,woman?”
Before Fox could say another word, both men rushed athim with raised and ready fists.
Vishni tapped her chin as she watched the brawl.“Multiple rings,” she murmured. “Yes, that would improve the taleconsiderably.”
Chapter Six: Compulsion
Until this afternoon, Honor had never felt any desireto explore Sevrin. It felt strange to be walking the broad streetsand winding, narrow byways like any human.
There were so many of them, striding here and therewith great purpose. A few, like Honor, took a more leisurely pace,enjoying the gift of a fine summer day.
Several days had passed since Honor’s “rescue”outside of Rhendish Manor. Plans to recover the Thorn movedsteadily forward; in fact, things were going so well that Honor wasstarting to believe that her quest might come to a successfulclose. Her life would never be the same, but on a day such as this,with the summer sun warm on her face and an early morning rainstill scenting the air, the forest did not seem so very faraway.
Fox and his companions thought she was spending theafternoon in the den, studying maps of Stormwall Island and readinghistories of Muldonny’s role in the overthrow of the sorcererEldreath. The thief and his friends would not approve of herwandering about the city on her own.
Honor didn’t begrudge them this attitude. It was,after all, her business that absorbed their full attention. Butshe’d spent almost every hour since her awakening below ground; infact, she so seldom left the tunnels that no hint of the Greeninghad touched her skin and hair. She was still nearly as pale as theCarmot dwarves who lived deep beneath the city.
The small colony of dwarves who worked the tunnelsbelow the Fox Den supported Honor’s suspicions about Delgar. He wasopening the old passages, preparing the way for more dwarves tofollow. She’d seen enough of Sevrin to know the adepts could notpermit this to happen.
Her people did not support the idea of overthrowingSevrin’s human rulers. That might change now that an adept’s menhad found the Starsingers Grove, but elves were slow to embracechange.
Too slow, in Honor’s opinion.
For the first time, she began to understand whyDelgar had thrown his lot in with a pair of humans and an impetuousfairy. There were times when things had to be done
Still, working with humans was risky. Honor hadnoticed Fox’s regard shifting to dangerous territory over the lastfew days. He’d been a child when she pulled him from the river. Hewas now a young man, and to human eyes she appeared to be a youngwoman. And judging from the company he kept, Fox was drawn to theold magic and the people who embodied it.
Honor had not been the only one to notice Fox’sattentiveness. She often sensed Vishni’s gaze following her, andshe noted the calculating gleam in the fairy’s dark eyes. A jealousfairy could present a dangerous complication.
Avidan, on the other hand, was largely oblivious toHonor’s presence. The fey-touched alchemist had embraced his roleas a visiting alchemist and spent most of his time working withvials of foul-smelling liquids. Honor had little doubt that when anopportunity finally arose, he could hold his own in conversationwith Muldonny.
Each member of the Fox Den had a reason for helpingHonor, but Delgar was the only one who understood the importance ofher quest.
And that was another problem.
Most Carmot dwarves believed their affinity forcarmite gave them an innate and sacred right to possess it. Delgarmight say otherwise, but he had not yet heard the Thorn’s song. Thecall of like to like might well prove too powerful to resist. Honorhad resigned herself to the possibility that she might have tofight Delgar for possession of the Thorn before this was over.
A street urchin bumped into her. Honor immediatelyslapped one hand over her coin purse and spun to face a second boy.His jaunty pace never faltered, but she caught a glimpse of thesmall crescent knife he quickly
