Aktos smiled again, indicating the shade. "Well, if you’ll accept the suggestion of a stranger better, he would point out that the road is very hot, this shade is not, and neither condition will change much for the next hour or so. I advise rest. I really do. I have some water. Would you care to share?"

  It occurred to Koric that the stranger could be a thief, but Koric also knew he didn’t have anything worth stealing. He also knew that his dress and equipment, functional as they both were, didn’t count for much to a man of such obvious means. And the water sounded wonderful. He had been looking for a stream to fill his own shrunken waterskin for the past few hours, without success.

  "That I would, and my thanks. Though I’m afraid I can’t repay the favor, having nothing to share."

  Aktos shrugged. "The day is young and we both, I suspect, have a long way to go. Perhaps we could share that instead. For now, sit. The road isn’t going anywhere."

  The water and the company were both very good. Later, when they started walking together, Koric thought the miles seemed to pass faster, and said so.

  "’Time shared is time divided,’ a wise man once told me," Koric said.

  "A bit of a problem, since there always seems precious little enough time without dividing it with everyone you meet," Aktos said. "Although I think it a compliment, nonetheless."

  Koric smiled. "Well, some sorts of time should be divided. Travel time. Work time. Unpleasant time."

  Aktos looked thoughtful. "That could be. Yet what is pleasant and what not is often a matter of hindsight, and things that seem pleasant at the time might show a darker nature farther down the road."

  Koric couldn’t quite see it that way at the moment. As they walked north, the road had shown itself less traveled, and the forests grew thicker and closer. Yet that in itself seemed an improvement. Fewer travelers meant fewer opportunities for highwaymen, who seemed to favor the riskier but more lucrative byways farther south. The wildness of the forest merely meant that now the road was shaded over by oak and aspen and much more cool and pleasant walking. Koric and Aktos kept up a brisk pace, and Koric wasn’t nearly as tired as he expected to be.

  "I think I’ve told you all there is to know of me," Koric said at last, "but I still count you a mystery."

  "All men are mysteries. Some have explanations, some do not, but in neither case is that mystery really revealed. Consider, I know much about you, yes, but I still don’t know why you came to be on this road, at this time."

  "Didn’t I mention that? I’m running an errand."

  "Fetching a pail from a well is an errand. Traveling the north road from the coast all the way to the foothills of the White Mountains is not an errand. It’s more in the nature of a great undertaking. Especially for one who, I rather guess, has never been so far from home before."

  "Is it so obvious?"

  Aktos laughed without breaking stride. "Yes, in a word."

  "You’re a man of great experience, I can see, though compared to me anyone would be. What could I teach you?"

  "Something I don’t know, of course. I’ll do the same: what do you want to know about me?"

  Koric thought about it. "Well, for a start, where were you born?"

  "In a pig sty in Nols. Or close enough."

  Koric frowned. "I thought—" He stopped.

  Aktos smiled. "Nobility? Royalty traveling in disguise?" Koric reddened, and Aktos smiled broader. "See? By telling you one thing I learn another. You’re a romantic. I didn’t know that before. Suspected, perhaps. But did not know."

  "Yet...you dress so well."

  Aktos shrugged. "I’ve done well for myself over the years, but all through my own efforts, I assure you. I have no advantage over you by birth, Koric. Maybe rather the opposite."

  "I hope one day to do as well," Koric said.

  Aktos didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, "Be careful of your desires, Koric. They’re harder masters than any man or woman you can serve in this life."

  "I sense another story there," Koric said.

  "You may yet hear it, but not now. My turn: where are you going, Koric? I confess you’re aroused my curiosity; I’ve been on this road many times, and I’ve never seen you on it before today."

  Koric considered. Takren had made him swear to reveal the message he carried to no one, but since Koric couldn’t read there was precious little chance of that. Koric didn’t see how he could reveal the nature of secrets he did not possess. "I’m on an errand, as I said. My master’s servant sent me to deliver a message to a man at the Kuldun Monastery. I don’t know what it’s about; I don’t need to know."

  Aktos nodded. "Quite right and proper for a messenger," he said, and that was all. Still, there were silences and there were silences, and it seemed to Koric that the one now coming from Aktos was of the sort that might be broken, if caution or simple manners had not argued against it. He wasn’t sure which one was responsible, but now his curiosity was aroused.

  "It is a very long way," he said, "and what stories I’ve heard of the monks of Kuldun do give one pause."

  Aktos shrugged. "Much is said of them, true enough. How much of the telling is true...well, who can say who has not been there himself?"

  It was nearing sunset. They walked through a place where the trees were very thick indeed, and beyond that Koric heard the roaring rush of swift water over stone. The trees parted ever so slightly and Koric came first to the bridge. It was built of wood and rope, but it was wide and solidly made for the traffic of cart and horse it was doubtless built to carry. Koric looked down into a deep rocky gorge through which a river not so much ran as poured, like water from a pitcher, in a series of waterfalls that ended further downstream as the river turned wide and dark.

  "What river is this?" Koric asked.

  "The Ald, I think."

  Koric blinked. "You think? I thought you had been this way many times."

  Aktos sighed. "I’m afraid I lied about that. This is the first time I’ve set eyes on it."

  Koric heard the whisper of steel on leather, and he turned to find a very sharp dagger at his throat. "You will please give me the message you’re carrying," Aktos said. At that moment, frozen as it was in Koric’s memory, the only image that really remained was Aktos’ smile. It hadn’t changed. His easy, friendly manner had not altered one bit. Yet the dagger was still at Koric’s throat.

  "What are you doing?!"

  "You’re too new from home to have developed a proper mistrust of your fellow man, and I’m afraid I used that, Koric. In my trade it’s often required to use the tools at hand," Aktos said.

  "Y-your trade?"

  "Mercenary, assassin. Call it what you will. I was hired to intercept you and discover whether you carried a message and whether it was written or memorized. This I have done. I was also hired to recover the message, if written. Which I am now doing. Please hand it over."

  "Takren said—" Koric hesitated, trying to remember what it was that Takren had said. Something about a matter that was unusual and yet somehow routine. Something about not giving the note to anyone except the man he described.

  Aktos shifted the blade a mere fraction, but Koric felt the sting of its tip and his bowels almost loosened then and there.

  "Takren is not here, Friend Koric. This blade is. One way or another I will have what I came for. Don’t force me to kill you now."

  "Why is killing the lad later so much more preferable?"

  They both looked to the other end of the bridge, but Aktos did not move the knife. A tall dark man, darker of hair, clothes, and trappings than even Aktos sat there on a big dun horse. He wore a sword and dagger but did not seem to be paying much attention to either weapon. Koric heard Aktos draw one slow breath and let it out even slower.

  "Tymon the Black," he said, so softly that even Koric almost didn’t hear. Aktos looked down at him. "Koric, this matter may be more important than you or I knew."

  Ω

  5 Met, But not well

  "Tymon the Black," whoever he was, sat very still on his mount. Aktos shifted his grip on the dagger as if he could just not find the perfect hold. Koric, still stunned from the first turn of events, couldn’t decide where to turn his attention, albeit the image of the dagger at his throat was never far from his mind.

  Tymon sighed a gusty sigh, audible even at that distance. "You haven’t answered my question. Why the delay? Was it really preferable to wait rather than kill him when you had the chance?"

  "I still have the chance," Aktos said. If he had been a whit more alert Koric might have noticed the tinge of fear in Aktos’ voice, albeit he hid it well.

  "You were going to kill me, weren’t you?" Koric said. It meant it to be a question but it just didn’t turn out that way.

  "Yes," Aktos said. "Now do be quiet. I’m negotiating, or hadn’t you noticed?"

  Koric had not. But now he made it a point to notice everything possible. The gleaming edges of Aktos’ knife. The depth of the gorge and the water below, and how much chance he would have of surviving if he could pull away from Aktos long enough to jump. None, he decided. He turned his attention to the rider. For no reason other than desperation, he thought hope might reside there.

  Aktos raised his voice just enough to carry the distance. "What business is it of yours, magician? Why do you interfere?"

  "The message he carries is intended for me," Tymon said. "I call that reason enough. Though I’ll point out that I have not—in point of fact—interfered. Yet."

  "Don’t try to frighten me, magician."

  Tymon smiled. "Why would I want to frighten you?"

  Koric could now plainly see that Aktos was already frightened, for all his talk. That, as far as Koric could see, only made him more grim and determined. Koric reconsidered the gorge.

  Tymon continued. "Consider—you have been accompanying the lad for some time, by my information. Surely you could have found out what you needed to know and done the deed before now."

  "I choose my own time and pace," Aktos said.

  "Even the Powers are not so unconstrained," Tymon said. "But let that pass. I submit that you were reluctant. You don’t really want to kill this boy."

  Aktos chuckled. "I never want to kill anyone, but I’ve not let that stop me. I’ve found that those in my profession who enjoy taking life never last long. They don’t know when to stop. They get careless."

  Tymon dismounted. He came to the foot of the bridge but advanced no further. "Do you know when to stop, Aktos?"

  Aktos took a step backward, pulling Koric with him. "You know who I am. I find that disturbing."

  Tymon smiled again. "Are you suspecting that your employer has betrayed you? Is that possible?"

  "Considering their nature? Very possible. Though I don’t think it likely; I can’t see the point." Aktos took another step backward with Koric following, though it’s not as if the lad had a choice. A few more steps and they would be off the bridge. "We’re leaving now, magician. Don’t try to stop me."

  "Don’t try to leave and I won’t have to. I’d like to make a bargain."

  Aktos laughed. "I’m sure you would."

  Tymon sighed. "Aktos, one way or another you will listen to me. Which way will it be?"

  "I said we’re leaving. We are. I’m taking the boy and the message he carries."

  "I can’t let you do that."

  Tymon whistled. Aktos, startled, looked around, but nothing seemed to happen except that Tymon’s mount trotted a few steps forward to stand behind its master, revealing a second riderless horse standing just within the forest.

  "Damn sneaky—"

  That was as far as Aktos got. Just as he released Koric long enough to set himself in a knife-fighter’s stance a small black and green blur somersaulted over the railing of the bridge and knocked him sprawling. He bounced off the opposite railing and fell in a tangled heap. Aktos was still trying to untangle himself and draw his sword when the blur resolved itself into a small man about four feet high, a small man who drew a small hunting sword that was only a little longer than Aktos’ dropped dagger. The dwarf kicked the dagger over the edge of the bridge and set his own point at Aktos throat before the struggling young man could get his own sword clear of its sheath.

  "Well done, Seb."

  The dwarf nodded an acknowledgment, but kept his blade point steady all the time. Tymon strolled across the bridge and stood looking down at Aktos. The assassin’s eyes had a trapped look. "Now then, Aktos ... about that bargain? It can wait. Young man, may I have the message?" He held out his hand to Koric.

  Despite his relief, Koric wasn’t sure what to expect. He did know that what actually did happen afterwards was not something he would have imagined, left to his own devices. Tymon took the message from him and read it, though he didn’t seem either surprised or concerned by its contents. After that a sense of resignation seemed came over his former friend Aktos. Then about an hour later they all sat around a campfire in perfect amity, having supper.

  Seb was an excellent cook.

  Aktos ate, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. "I thought you were going to kill me, Magician."

  Koric scowled. "You were going to kill me," he said, and Aktos shrugged.

  "If I’d simply taken the message, Takren would have known he was suspected. If you never returned he’d have assumed you met with some misfortune and sent someone else. It was nothing personal."

  "It was to me," Koric muttered.

  Tymon sighed. "Don’t go on about it, lad. You’re safe, and Aktos’ current predicament may work to our mutual advantage."

  "I’m waiting to hear about that part myself," Aktos said. "You spared my life, and I want to know why. I know you don’t trust me, and you’re wise in that."

  Tymon waved his hand in dismissal. "This has nothing to do with trust, Aktos. If you were one of your warped associates you’d have gone off into the gorge with a slit throat, which is what I assume you had in mind for our young friend here. I won't kill you without a good reason. We're alike in that."

  Koric felt a little sick, but he kept silent. There was too much going on that he didn’t understand, so much indeed that he wasn’t even certain what questions—if any—he should have been asking.

  Aktos shrugged. "I’m listening."

  "I’ve seen the message you were sent to intercept, so you have officially failed. I take it your employer will be very cross with you."

  Aktos shrugged again. "Could be."

  "So I propose we don’t let him find out."

  "I haven’t said it was a ‘he.’ Or anything else concerning the person," Aktos pointed out.

  Tymon nodded. "Properly discreet, and so noted. But then, I knew who you were, so you might believe me when I tell you that I already know who your employer is. You needn’t name him to me. I ask only that you observe the letter of your agreement with this person."

  "How can I do that now?"

  "By bringing him my message. Which really will be mine, strictly speaking, as I will write it while you watch. It will concern trivial matters that will put your employer’s mind at rest. It will duplicate Takren’s script so well that I fancy he himself couldn’t tell the difference. We’ll also keep the boy with us so his reappearance at the farm doesn’t raise your employer’s suspicions."

  By then Koric was more afraid of Tymon and Seb than he was of his would be murderer, but he couldn’t keep silent. "I never agreed to that!"

  "You will agree," Tymon said, "or I’ll kill you myself and save Aktos the bother." He didn’t raise his voice or change the tone of his words in any way, but Koric didn’t doubt him for a moment. Neither did Aktos, apparently. He looked almost touched.

  Aktos sighed. "I must ask, then: why would you do this for me?"

  "It’s not for you. This will serve us both. Are we agreed? Your only other option is to attempt to overpower and slay us now. Or pretend agreement and then creep back to attempt the same later. I would advise against either course."

  Aktos glanced at Seb, who grinned at him. He looked away quickly. "I wasn’t paid for any extra effort or risk. Very well, I agree."

  Tymon nodded. "A wise choice."

  Koric just looked around at all of them as if he were the only sane person in a parliament of the mad.

  §

  Seb pretended to sleep as Aktos gathered up his blanket and pack and slipped away from their camp early the next morning, then he sat up, yawning. Night was in full retreat from a hint of dawn. Seb got up, rolled his bedding, and started to prepare breakfast. He allowed himself the peace and lack of complication such routine activities often created for him, but it didn’t last. It never did. After a few moments he gave up and allowed himself to notice that Tymon was up, sitting on a fallen log, watching him.

  "Good morning," Seb said. "If indeed it is."

  Tymon yawned. "We have Takren’s message. We’re alive to scheme another day. I call that good enough for any given morning."

  Seb glanced in the direction Aktos had taken—south. "Can we trust him?"

  "No, so it’s a good thing we don’t have to do so. Aktos, despite his profession, is a relatively sane young man who really does not take his work personally. He will do what’s in his own interest, and so I suspect he’ll keep his bargain for that reason."

  Seb frowned. "Suspect? You don’t know for certain?"

  Tymon shook his head. "I do not."

  Seb started to say something, thought better of it. "What’s so important about that message?"

  "There’s going to be an attempt to steal the throne of Borasur by Lord Molic."

  Seb frowned even deeper, if that were possible. "'Lord' Molic? You mean that addlepated farmer? If we’re thinking of the same person, he couldn’t steal a melon."

  "This isn’t a melon, Seb. This is the sort of thing that only a simple soul like Molic very well could steal. With the right help."

  Seb’s frown cleared away. "Help. You mean Aktos’ current employer."

  Tymon nodded. "You grasped that. I thought you might."

  "Well, hiring an assassin certainly wasn’t Molic’s notion. By all account he’s a sweet old daffy with the mental acuity of a butterfly."

 

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