He went out of the hall, crossed the muddy courtyard, and walked on down through the shabby village, cursing his own gullibility and brooding darkly about his failure to take a look into the strongroom to verify the fat mans boasting.
Fortune, that most fickle goddess, had tricked him again. His luck hadnt changed after all.
Despite his bitter disappointment, he stepped right along. He hadnt left Gostis strongroom in a very tidy condition, and it wouldnt be long until the fat man realized that hed been robbed. The theft hadnt been very large, but it still might not be a bad idea to cross a few clan boundaries just to be on the safe side. Galbak had the look of a man who wouldnt shrug things off, and Althalus definitely wanted a long head-start on Gostis hard-faced cousin.
After a few days of hard travel, Althalus felt that it was safe enough to stop by a tavern to get a decent meal. Like just about everyone else on the frontiers, Althalus carried a sling, and he was quite skilled with it. He could get by on an occasional rabbit or squirrel, but he was definitely in the mood for a full meal.
He approached a shabby village tavern, but stopped just outside the doorway when he heard someone saying, a wolf-skin tunic with the ears still on. He stepped back from the door to listen.
Gosti Big Bellys fit to be tied, the man whod just mentioned the tunic went on. It seems that this Althalus fellowd just spent the whole winter eating Gostis food and drinking his mead, and he showed his gratitude by sneaking into Gostis strongroom and stealing two full bags of gold coins.
Shocking! somebody else murmured. What did you say this thief looked like?
Well, as I understand it, hes about medium sized and hes got a black beard, but that description fits about half the men in Arum. Its that wolf-eared tunic that gives him away. Gostis cousin Galbak is offering a huge reward for the fellows head, but for all of me, he can keep his reward. Its those two bags of gold this Althalus fellows carrying that interest me. Im going to track him down, believe me. Id like to introduce him to the busy end of my spear, and I wont even bother to cut off his head to sell to Galbak. The man gave a cynical laugh. Im not a greedy man, friends. Two bags of gold are more than enough to satisfy me.
Althalus stepped around to the side of the tavern to swear. It was the irony of it all that stung so much. Gosti desperately wanted everybody in Arum to believe that he was rich. That absurd reward offer was nothing more than a way for the fat man to verify his boasts. Gosti, still eating with both hands, was probably laughing himself sick right now. Althalus had stolen no more than a handful of brass coins, and now hed have to run for his life. Gosti would get the fame, and Althalus now had Galbak on his trail and every man in Arum looking for him with a knife.
Obviously though, he was going to have to get rid of his splendid new tunic, and that really bit deep. He went back to the door and peeked inside to identify the man whod just described him. What had happened had been Gostis doing, but Gosti wasnt around to punish, so that loud-mouthed tavern loafer was going to have to fill in for him.
Althalus etched the mans features in his mind, and then he went outside the village to wait and watch.
Dusk was settling over the mountains of Arum when the fellow lurched out of the tavern and came wobbling out to the main trail that passed the village. He was carrying a short spear with a broad-bladed bronze tip, and he was whistling tunelessly.
He stopped whistling when Althalus savagely clubbed him to the ground.
Then Althalus dragged him back into the bushes at the side of the trail. He turned the unconscious man over. I understand youve been looking for me, he said sardonically. Was there something you wanted to discuss?
He peeled the mans knitted smock off the limp body, removed his own splendid tunic, and regretfully dropped it on his would-be assassins face. Then he put on the shabby tunic, stole the mans purse and spear, and left the vicinity.
Althalus didnt have a very high opinion of the man hed just robbed, so he was fairly certain that the idiot would actually wear that tunic, and that might help to muddy the waters. The description the fellow had been spreading around had mentioned a black beard, so when the sun rose the following morning, Althalus stopped by a forest pool where he could see his reflection in the surface of the water and painfully shaved with his bronze dagger.
Once that had been taken care of, he decided that it might be prudent to continue his northward journey along the ridge-lines rather than in the canyons. His shave and his change of clothing had probably disguised him enough to conceal his identity from people who were searching for somebody with a black beard and a wolf-eared tunic, but a fair number of men had stopped by Gostis hall during the preceding winter, and if some of those guests were among the searchers, theyd probably recognize him. And if they didnt, Gostis cousin Galbak certainly would. Althalus knew the Arums well enough to be certain that theyd stay down in the canyons to conduct their search, since climbing the ridges would be terribly inconvenient, and there werent many taverns up on top where they could rest and refresh themselves. Althalus was positive that no real Arum could ever be found more than a mile away from the nearest tavern.
He climbed the ridge with a sense of bitterness dogging his heels. Hed make good his escape, of course. He was too clever to be caught. What really cankered at his soul was the fact that his escape would just reinforce Gostis boasts. Gostis reputation as the richest man in Arum would be confirmed by the fact that the greatest thief in the world had made a special trip to Arum just to rob him. Althalus mournfully concluded that his bad luck was still dogging his heels.
Up on the ridge-line, the sodden remains of last winters snowdrifts made for slow going, but Althalus doggedly slogged his way north. There wasnt much game up here on the ridges, so he frequently went for days without eating.
As he sourly struggled north, he once again heard that peculiar wailing sound hed first noticed back in the mountains on his way to Gostis fort the previous autumn. Evidently it was still out there, and he began to wonder if maybe it was following him for some reason. Whatever it was, it was noisy, and its wailing cries echoing back from the mountainsides began to make Althalus distinctly edgy.
It wasnt a wolf; Althalus was sure of that. Wolves travel in packs, and this was a solitary creature. There was an almost despairing quality about its wailing. He eventually concluded that it was most probably the mating season for that particular creature, and that its mournful, hollow cries were nothing more than an announcement to others of its species that it would really like to have some company along about now. Whatever it was, Althalus began to fervently wish that itd go look for companionship elsewhere, since those unearthly cries of absolute despair were beginning to get on his nerves.
CHAPTER THREE
Althalus was in a somber mood as he slogged north. along the ridge-lines of Arum. Hed had set-backs before, of course. Nobody wins every time, but always in the past his luck had returned in short order. This time had been somehow different. Everything hed touched had gone sour. His luck had not just deserted him, she seemed to be going out of her way to ruin everything he attempted. Had he done something thatd turned her love to hate? That gloomy thought hounded him as he came down out of the mountains of Arum into the deep-forested land of Hule.
Althalus was in a somber mood as he slogged north. along the ridge-lines of Arum. Hed had set-backs before, of course. Nobody wins every time, but always in the past his luck had returned in short order. This time had been somehow different. Everything hed touched had gone sour. His luck had not just deserted him, she seemed to be going out of her way to ruin everything he attempted. Had he done something thatd turned her love to hate? That gloomy thought hounded him as he came down out of the mountains of Arum into the deep-forested land of Hule.
Hule is the refuge of choice for men who are the unfortunate victims of various misunderstandings in the surrounding lands. Helpful men who just wanted to give your horse some exercise or were just taking your silver coins out into the light so that I could polish them for you, found sanctuary in Hule, since theres nothing resembling a government or laws of any kind in Hule, and in a land where there arent any laws, theres no such thing as a law-breaker.
Althalus was in a foul humor when he reached Hule, and he felt a great need for the companionship of people of his own kind with whom he could be completely open, so he made his way directly through the forest to the more or less permanent encampment of a Hulish man named Nabjor who brewed good mead and sold it at a fair price. Nabjor also had several plump young ladies available for the convenience of customers who might be feeling lonely for conversation or consolation.
Theres a hushed quality about the vast forests of Hule. The trees of that land of the far north are giants, and a traveler can wander under the endless canopy of their outspread limbs for days on end without ever seeing the sun. The trees are evergreens for the most part, and their fallen needles blanket the ground in a deep, damp carpet that muffles the sound of a travelers footsteps. There are no trails in the land of Hule, since the trees continually shed their dead needles in a gentle sprinkle to cover all signs of the passage of man or beast.
Nabjors congenial camp lay in a small clearing on the banks of a cheerful little stream that giggled its way over brown rocks, and Althalus approached it with some caution, since a man reputed to be carrying two heavy bags of gold tends to be very careful before he enters any public establishment. After hed lain behind a fallen tree watching the camp for a while, Althalus concluded that there were no Arums around, so he rose to his feet. Ho, Nabjor, he called. Its me, Althalus. Dont get excited; Im coming in. Nabjor always kept a heavy-bladed bronze axe close at hand to maintain order and to deal with interlopers who might have some questions about his own indiscretions, so it was prudent not to surprise him.
Ho! Althalus! Nabjor bellowed. Welcome! I was beginning to think that maybe the Equeros or the Treboreans had caught you and hung you up on a tree down there.
No, Althalus replied with a rueful laugh. Ive managed to keep my feet on the ground so far, but only barely. Is your mead ripe yet? That batch you had the last time I passed through was just a trifle green.
Come and try some, Nabjor invited. This new batch came out rather well.
Althalus walked into the clearing and looked at his old friend. Nabjor was a burly man with dun-colored hair and beard. He had a large, bulbous nose, shrewd eyes, and he was dressed in a shaggy bearskin tunic. Nabjor was a businessman who sold good mead and rented out ladies. He also bought things with no questions asked from men who stole for a living.
The two of them clasped hands warmly. Sit you down, my friend, Nabjor said. Ill bring us some mead, and you can tell me all about the splendors of civilization.
Althalus sank down on a log by the fire where a spitted haunch of forest bison sizzled and smoked while Nabjor filled two large earthenware cups with foaming mead. How did things go down there? he asked, returning to the fire and handing Althalus one of the cups.
Awful, Althalus said glumly.
That bad? Nabjor asked, seating himself on the log on the other side of the fire.
Even worse, Nabjor. I dont think anybodys come up with a word yet that really describes how bad it was. Althalus took a long drink of his mead. You got a good run on this batch, my friend.
I thought you might like it.
Are you still charging the same price?
Dont worry about the price today, Althalus. Todays mead is out of friendship.
Althalus lifted his cup. Heres to friendship then, he said and took another drink. They dont even make mead down in civilization. The only thing you can buy in the taverns is sour wine.
They call that civilized? Nabjor shook his head in disbelief.
Hows business been? Althalus asked.
Not bad at all, Nabjor replied expansively. Words getting around about my place. Just about everybody in Hule knows by now that if he wants a good cup of mead at a reasonable price, Nabjors camp is the place to go. If he wants the companionship of a pretty lady, this is the place. If hes stumbled across something valuable that he wants to sell with no embarrassing questions about how he came by it, he knows that if he comes here, Ill be glad to discuss it with him.
Youre going to fool around and die rich, Nabjor.
If its all the same to you, Id rather live rich. All right, since thats out of the way, tell me what happened down in the low-country. I havent seen you for more than a year, so weve got a lot of catching up to do.
Youd better brace yourself, Nabjor, Althalus warned. This isnt going to be one of those happy stories. Then he went on to describe his misadventures in Equero, Treborea, and Perquaine at some length.
Thats awful! Nabjor said. Didnt anything turn out well?
Not really. Things were so bad that I had to waylay men coming out of taverns to get enough money to pay for my next meal. My lucks gone sour on me, Nabjor. Everything Ive touched for the past year and a halfs turned to ashes on me. I thought for a while that it was because my luck hadnt followed me when I went down into the low-country, but things didnt get any better when I got to Arum. Then he told his friend about his misadventures in the hall of Gosti Big Belly.
You really do have a problem, dont you, Althalus? Nabjor observed. Its your luck thats always made you famous. Youd better see what you can do to get back on the good side of her.
Id be more than happy to, Nabjor, but I dont know how. Shes always been so fond of me that I didnt have to take any special pains to keep her in my pocket. If she had a temple someplace, Id steal somebodys goat and sacrifice it on her altar. But the way things have been going here lately, the goat would probably kick my brains out before I could cut his throat.
Oh, cheer up, Althalus. Things have got to get better for you.
I certainly hope so. I dont see how they could get any worse.
Just then Althalus heard that almost despairing wail again, far back in the trees. Do you have any idea of what sort of animal makes that kind of noise? he asked.
Nabjor cocked his head to listen. Cant quite place it, he admitted. It wouldnt be a bear, would it?
I dont think so. Bears dont go around singing in the woods that way. I heard that beast howling for days on end while I was up in Arum.