The Silence of Medair

"Luck." She was certainly not going to go into detail. She could only hope his debt would outweigh his no doubt strong wish to compel a few straight answers out of her. "I was close to joining Avahn and then they would have only been faced with the task of smuggling us out. You seem fully recovered Keridahl. Can we hope to resume our journey tomorrow?"

The grey eyes searched her face dispassionately, then Cor-Ibis inclined his head.

"Presuming Avahn is unharmed, we will travel on, Kel ar Corleaux."

Chapter Twelve

"How did the rahlstones come to be stolen in the first place?" Medair asked, resisting the temptation to look self-consciously away at green, sprawling Pelamath, their journey’s halfway point. They were resting a day in the city, a major trade junction sitting squarely on the border of the massive Cor-Ibis Dahlein. Only a week’s ride from Athere, it had once been a herding town called Pelladon.

Cor-Ibis' eyelids dropped a fraction, a mannerism she still suspected betrayed otherwise hidden amusement. Conversation with the man was like walking through a forest full of snares, with the trapper following behind to study her fumbles. She kept falling over questions like the one he had just asked – what she thought of the Simonacy – and having to abruptly change the subject to hide her complete ignorance of who or what he was talking about.

Was the Simonacy some dreadfully obscure topic he had dredged up from the far reaches of his memory, just to see whether she would weasel out of answering? Or the equivalent of the Western Kingdoms, or the Korgan Lands, or Farak herself? The sort of thing about which no normal person would not have some opinion. Even ambiguous answers could be treacherous, so she had to resort to a transparent change of subject.

"It is not a story which depicts Palladian security in any favourable light," Cor-Ibis said now, accepting the shift from Simonacy to rahlstones without demur. He never challenged her when she squirmed from one topic to another, just made her feel hopelessly clumsy in the light of his eternal courtesy. She wished Avahn had breakfasted with them, instead of deserting her to Cor-Ibis on the balcony of yet another ducal mansion while he gallivanted off to visit friends.

"As is boasted, the vaults of the White Palace are protected by gates, guards and glamour," Cor-Ibis continued. "Gates are the easiest to circumvent, and do not even require magic for the feat. The guards themselves are kel-sa rank mages, and suffer the usual scrutiny levelled at such sentinels."

"Geases and truth spells," Medair murmured. If it weren’t for Cor-Ibis' unwavering scrutiny, this would be a pleasant place to breakfast. The Pelamath residence was less secluded than The Avenue, and this balcony offered a view over a public park with a small lake and, distantly, the surge and bustle of a busy marketplace.

"Even so, Kel. The guards were not suspect. A thief aspiring to the vaults must overcome the physical impediments, along with several layers of detection and reinforcement spells. Without alerting guards sensitive to magical interference."

"As well shoot the moon. Yet it was done?"

"It was done. And I cannot tell you how, because I still do not know. A routine inventory revealed the rahlstones' loss something on the order of two months ago. Nothing else was missing, the wards and trips were all in place, and the guards had not reported a single unusual occurrence. A remarkable thief."

"Who was not, I take it, among the victims of that blast?"

"Not from my observation. But Thern Mara – the merchant attempting to sell the stones on – kept secrets close to her chest. Since nothing else was taken, I can only presume the thief was hired specifically for the task."

"Quite a commission." Medair toyed with the slices of apple and cheese she had so busily carved while avoiding his gaze.

"Have you been to Pelamath before, Kel?"

"No." She didn’t imagine that the dozen times she’d passed through Pelladon counted.

"Then I will show you the city." His eyes were veiled when she looked up. "It is a place of many moods, Pelamath, and I rarely have a chance to see them. Ever a crossroads."

That didn’t sound like an attractive prospect for a number of reasons. "I–" Medair began.

"You would rather not traipse about Pelamath in my wake," Cor-Ibis said, and a corner of his mouth curled up. She looked away, for she found these rare, wry smiles highly distracting.