Chapter 6: Thief of Talai

The five riders moved on, and moments later there were only four. Bunched together so that a watcher might have trouble counting them, they kept on for a short distance. Shantar pointed out a spot where spreading trees shaded a grassy knoll, and they stopped where countless others had stopped before them, stretching and bending to loosen muscles pulled tight by long hours in the saddle. Ashaia quickly built a small fire, and Gortai hung a brass pot of water over it to make some of the sweet herb tea that was one of the main products of the hill men's remote mountain farms.

On the trail behind them, traffic thinned out even more as others stopped for a noon time rest. Those who were left cast apprehensive glances at the hill men on their shady knoll. Shantar grinned with satisfaction when he saw Ch'Wing's pony coming at a fast trot, the spotted pony trailing along with its rider slung across its back.

"He tried to duck back out of sight when you stopped," Ch'Wing reported gleefully. "Then, he tried to argue with me when I invited him to join us for lunch."

Willing hands helped to dump the limp body onto the ground by the fire. The man's clothing was dirty and torn, but had once been of good quality. He stirred, then froze into immobility, the slanted eyes in his pock marked yellow face opening slightly as he tried to learn what was around him.

"We know you're awake," Shantar told him. "What's your name, and why were you following us?"

"What's it to you?" The man sat up, spat into the fire to rid his mouth of dirt. "I'm an honest traveler. What'd you jump me for?"

"What's your name?"

"None of your business. Ow!" His head rocked back and forth from Shantar's open handed slaps. "Cut it out! Hey!"

"Now, what's your name?"

"Chinzel My name's Chinzel, and I'm from Talai."

"Why were you following us?"

"I wasn't! Ow!" He tried to scoot himself back away from Shantar, but he was already too close to the fire.

"Hey! Look at what I found in his saddle bags." Ch'Dan came trotting up with a couple of small bags of softly tanned leather.

"Leave those alone!" Chinzel struggled to his feet. "They're mine!"

"Let me see them." Shantar untied the thong that held one of the pouches shut, pouring a stream of glittering gems out into the palm of his hand. The other bag revealed a mass of twisted and bent precious metal. "So, these are yours. Looks to me like you haven't owned them very long."

"You can't prove anything!"

"Maybe not, but I'll bet that the city watch would like to get their hands on you," Gortai guessed, shrewdly.

"And maybe they'd be even happier to get their hands on a certain heretic and his friends, too!" Chinzel drew in his breath sharply as he realized what he'd said. He tried to twist free of the hands that gripped his arms, then froze into absolute stillness as the tip of Shantar's knife touched his throat.

"Now, little man. Tell us what you know, and be quick about it. Don't even try to lie, or it will be the last thing you ever do."

"D... Don't! I'll tell you." The little thief's face turned a sickly yellow white, beaded with sweat. "The word's been passed that there's a nice reward out, with no questions asked, for a man traveling with a girl, maybe disguised as a couple of priests, and for a big hill man traveling by himself who's wanted for heresy. I thought you looked kinda like hill men, so I followed along."

"I think that you'd better come along with us, at least for a little ways," Shantar mused, and Chinzel paled even more at the grim expression on his face.

"Why not just cut his throat right here," Ch'Wing suggested, calmly.

"I've got a better idea," Gortai spoke up, with a cackling laugh. "Let's sell him to that slave dealer we passed, back down the trail."

"Yeah," Ch'Dan chimed in. "A good drink of slave drug, and he won't even remember his own name."

"How about it," Shantar asked their shrinking captive. "Would you rather be a slave than dead?"

"No! I mean, yes! Hey, look, fellows. I ain't done nothing to you. Lemme go, and I swear by old Kathool Himself that I won't tell anybody about you. I'll even do better'n that." The little thief's words tumbled out as fast as he could speak as he felt the keen edge of Shantar's knife increase its pressure ever so slightly against his throat. "I know a way you can get past the priests and their spies to wherever it is that you're heading."

"We're going to Talai, itself," Shantar told him. "I suppose you can get us through its gates without being spotted, too."

"If I can't, then nobody else can, neither. That part's easy, and there's not a chance of getting caught."

"I have an idea." Princess Ashaia spoke up from where she stood a little apart from the others, and Chinzel squirmed around, trying to see her better. "Some secrets are very dangerous to the holder. Chinzel, I am the runaway girl that the priests seek. Do you recognize me?"

Chinzel's jaw dropped as she stood proudly erect in her shabby clothes, her face burned brown by the fervent rays of the sub tropical sun. He shook his head stubbornly from side to side, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Who am I, Chinzel? You have lived your whole life in Talai, by your speech. The north east quarter of Talai, near to the street of the deep well. Surely, you have seen me in Talai many times. Who am I?" Her voice cracked like a whip on the last words.

"Your Highness!" he pleaded, brokenly. "Don't, oh don't! I am only a poor thief of Talai!"

"And if I should speak the name of Chinzel, thief of Talai, to the priests when they capture me? To Sholim, High Priest of Kathool Himself? You would be lucky if they let you live long enough to be sent to walk in Kathool's dreams, so that He may continue to slumber in His house beneath the sea, and not waken to destroy all Kath."

"No, your Highness. I will guide you." His head raised, and he met her eyes squarely for the first time. "Thief I may be, but I am a good one. No fat priest or watchman has ever laid his hands on me. I will take you to Talai, to the very palace gates if that is what you wish, and none shall know that you have passed by!"

Shantar cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Ashaia, and at her all but imperceptible nod, released his hold on the thief. Handing back the two bags of loot, he chuckled, "The Princess Ashaia is right. You are now the holder of a very precious secret. The knowledge that the Princess has been taken by the priests would be even more valuable to certain people. Take back your pretties, along with your sword and dagger. Now, what is this way that you have of getting us to Talai safely?"

"Well, you've got to promise to keep it a secret," Chinzel temporized. "It's supposed to be known only to a few of the top members of the Thieves Guild."

"We promise," Shantar agreed, amicably. "But we had better get moving, before a bunch of green robes lands on us."

"Okay, okay! We go on down this road for a couple of hours, until we come to a trail that takes off toward the coast."

"But that's swamp country," Gortai protested. "We can't get through that way."

"That's what the priests and their bully boys will think," Chinzel answered, smugly. "There's things that the priests and the soldiers neither one know about this country. Speaking of which, the soldiers are after you and your friends, too."

"How come?" Shantar asked. "I didn't think that the priests and the soldiers were that good friends?"

"That ain't why," the little thief explained. "They're afraid you're spying for Orzad. He's supposed to be mixed up with some sort of uprising, up around Weilin, and they're running in circles trying to find out what's going on. They figure that this being a heretic fugitive from the priests is just a cover up for your spying."

"That's all we need," Gortai muttered, disgustedly. "The soldiers after us, too. Let's get going."

Trying not to show that they were in a hurry, the little band, now larger by one, trotted off down the dusty track. The traffic grew lighter as they moved farther away from OtlaVillage, and shortly after dark Chinzel pointed to where a little used trail led off to their right.

"We go this way," he broke the silence that had enveloped them. "There's a good place to camp, not far from here. Watch for a small traveler's shrine."

It was Ch'Wing who spotted the shrine, a rough wooden structure that stood waist high a few feet from the trail. A tumble down wall of loose rocks testified to the lack of regular travelers to keep it in repair. Even the baked clay idol of the traveler's God, S'Purlo, was starting to crumble. They each tossed a stone onto the wall in the ages old traveler's ritual, except for Chinzel who gave the rotund idol with its hooked staff a disgusted glance.

"Don't you believe in the helpful powers of the Gods?" Shantar asked, sardonically.

"You can ask for S'Purlo's help if you want to," he answered sourly. "But Ipsnadd has brought me through some mighty tough places."