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Silence stretched between them, as Alanna fought to keep from either slapping him or from bursting into tears. Finally she hissed, “I refuse to marry you.”
Jonathan was now white with rage. “And I think I’m well out of a potential disaster!”
“Obviously!” she retorted. “Find yourself someone more feminine, Jonathan of Conté!” She hurled herself out of the tent.
Kara and Kourrem looked up from their packing, startled, as she marched into her own home. “I’m not leaving!” she snapped. “Next time someone tells you I am, check with me first!”
They bowed and hurried from the tent, their eyes wide above their face veils. Alanna threw herself onto her sleeping mat and gave way to furious tears.
Tears led to a long, exhausted sleep. When she awoke, it was dark. Jonathan and Myles were gone.
“Jonathan.” Queen Lianne beckoned to her son. Jonathan obeyed the summons, trying to erase the frown that had creased his forehead since his return from the desert over a week ago. He could hear courtiers whispering now about his unusual surliness.
Let them talk, he thought savagely as he bowed before his mother’s throne. What do I care?
His mother gestured for a willowy blonde to come forward. “Prince Jonathan,” the queen said as the blonde sank into a deep curtsy, “may I make Princess Josiane known to you? Josiane is the second daughter of the king of the Copper Isles; she has come to stay with us for a time. Her mother and I were good friends as girls. Josiane, my son, Jonathan.”
Josiane looked up at him from her curtsy, her blue eyes huge with admiration. “Prince Jonathan,” she said, her voice soft and husky. “It is an honor to meet the man who fought so bravely in the Tusaine War.”
Jonathan took Josiane’s hand and raised her to her feet, lightly kissing her fingertips. “I was just a boy then, Princess,” he reminded her. She said nothing, her full mouth curved in a smile. “Would you care to dance?”
“I would love to.” She moved gracefully out onto the floor at his side as Jonathan noted with satisfaction that she was tall (the top of her head level with his eyes), slender, and milky-skinned. She’ll do, he thought with grim satisfaction. She’ll help me prove to that—female in the south that I never want anything to do with her again!
8
THE KING OF
THE THIEVES
HOUSE AZIK, DOG LANE, IN THE CITY OF PORT Caynn, was one of many large residences set off from one another by high walls. It looked like a respectable merchant’s home.
“That a Trebond should come to the point of associatin’ with thieves—with the worst of them all—” Coram grumbled as he tugged the bellrope.
“The thief is my best friend,” Alanna reminded him tartly. “And he doesn’t take me for granted.”
She had tried to concentrate on tribal affairs after her fight with Jon, but her attention wandered constantly. It had been Coram’s decision to accompany her when she decided at last to visit George; Alanna could only wish that he had decided to keep his tongue between his teeth when he did so. Coram had never approved of her friendship with George.
A brown-eyed, brunet young man peered out of the porter’s door and yelped. Swiftly unbarring the large gate, Marek Swiftknife, George’s second-in-command and perennial rival, let them in. “Quickly!” he hissed. “Before you’re recognized!”
Once inside the courtyard, Alanna and Coram dismounted. Marek rebarred the gate and gripped Alanna’s hand, his sharply cut, handsome face alight with glee. “It’s still a jolt, seein’ you with your chest unbound,” he explained, ignoring Coram’s warning growl. “And it’s good t’see you, what with his Majesty sulkin’ about, makin’ life miserable for us all.” He showed them into the house as he asked, “Where’d you get your skin so tan?”
“We’ve been in the desert,” Alanna explained as Marek showed them into the house. “We’re Bazhir now.”
Marek shook his head. “If it isn’t one thing with you—”
“Guests?” A buxom redhead came out of the shadows at the back of the main hall. “Who’s come at this early hour?” Seeing Alanna, she laughed. “Well met, youngling. My cousin’s goin’ to be glad t’see you.”
A hard elbow met Alanna’s ribs painfully. “Introduce me,” Coram growled into his knight-mistress’s ear.
Grinning, Alanna said, “Rispah, this is Coram Smythesson. Coram was my first teacher; now he’s my companion. Rispah is George’s cousin and queen of the Ladies of the Rogue,” she added impishly.
Coram bowed over Rispah’s hand. “How can I think ill of th’ Rogue when such lasses are part of it?”
Rispah smiled. “I’m glad a strong-lookin’ soldier like you don’t wish to think ill of us,” she replied, her husky voice a purr.
Shocked, Alanna realized they were flirting. Even more surprising was her realization that Coram was a fine figure of a man, big belly and all. He’s not even very old, she remembered. He’s only forty or so. Plenty of soldiers wait that long to marry, till the itch is out of their feet. . . .
Feeling Alanna and Faithful watching with interest, Coram let go of Rispah’s hand, blushing slightly.
He likes your coming here better now, Faithful commented from his perch on Alanna’s shoulder.
A door slammed upstairs, and a male voice yelled, “Rispah! I asked for charts of the Merchants’ Guild-House t’be sent up with my breakfast—”
“You have visitors, cousin!” Rispah called, winking at Alanna. “Right noble guests, if I’m any judge!”
Alanna put Faithful down on the floor, feeling uncertain and strange. What if George wanted nothing to do with her?
The tall thief rushed down the stairs and grabbed her, swinging her around as he laughed. “And I’ve been thinkin’ you forgot me,” he said, placing her on her feet once more. “Just look at you! Tan and fit and wearin’ the clothes of a Bazhir—”
Alanna looked up into his friendly hazel eyes and broke into tears.
Rispah took Coram’s arm with a smile. “I’ll show you t’ your rooms,” she said. “We’ll be certain you and Lady Alanna have all you need.”
After a worried glance at Alanna, who was sobbing into George’s shirt, Coram shook his head and followed Rispah. The King of the Thieves looked down at Faithful, who watched them with unblinking purple eyes from his seat on the floor. “You, too,” he said, jerking a thumb in the direction Coram and Rispah had taken. “Scat.”
She won’t tell
you anything, you know, Faithful remarked as he obeyed.
“Will you not?” George asked Alanna, who was trying to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her burnoose. He produced a large handkerchief from his breeches pocket and held it to her small nose. “Blow,” he ordered.
Alanna took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose, then wiped her streaming face. “How long have you been able to understand Faithful?” she asked, her voice still choked.
“I understand him only when he wishes me to. Now, what’re you cryin’ for?” When she shook her head, he probed further, “Did somethin’ happen while you were in the desert?”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly, “but it had nothing to do with the Bazhir. They treat me with respect.”
George’s eyes widened. “You had a fight with Jonathan.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He hinted to me when he was ready t’leave for the South that he was planning t’pop the question.” Hope grew in the man’s face. “Are you tellin’ me you refused him?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice was forlorn.
George crushed her in a second massive hug. “And you shan’t,” he whispered. “Come. Take breakfast with me, and tell me what the Bazhir tribes are like.”
Sniffing, Alanna stepped away when he released her, and followed him upstairs. “I can’t believe you don’t know all about them,” she accused. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere else. Besides, surely Lightfingers and his friend gave you a full report.”
George grinned as he ushered her into his private rooms. “Ah, don’t be holdin’ my natural fears for your safety against me. Besides, the lads saw nothin’ worth reportin’.”
“All right.” Alanna sighed as he closed the door. “What would you like to know?”
It was an unusual company that George had assembled in House Azik. In addition to Rispah and Marek, there were three other rogues from Corus: two large and muscular brothers named Orem and Shem, and one small, whippy man called Ercole. Another man was also present, Joesh. Alanna didn’t know him. He was dark and handsome, slender, with wide shoulders and a walk that indicated almost perfect balance to Alanna’s trained eye. She had no idea why he was there; but the other men, as well as Rispah’s big female companion Harra, were present to help George deal with insubordination in Port Caynn.
