Lhind the Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

was hot, but mostly
because slurping was supposed to be unmannerly.
    “How am I slow, Lhind?” Hlanan asked again. “I’m trying to
learn.”
    “Just slow,” I said in my surliest voice.
    “I beg pardon,” Hlanan said, inclining his head. “How could
I forget? Six days without food!”
    I didn’t like having my lies remembered. Safer not to talk
at all.
    So I ignored him and concentrated on the food, which was
delicious. I ate as messily as I could without actually wasting any. That meant
making lots of noise, grunting, slurping, and snorting. When I dared a peek at
Hlanan, the smile was pronounced—he was enjoying my disgustingness! Flames of
Rue, how was I to get rid of this person?
    “Go away!” I snapped.
    “As soon as you are done,” he said gently, indicating the
tray.
    At that point I was thumbing up crumbs. His gaze followed my
hand. Alarm thrilled through me—was my fuzz showing? No. I’d sewn my cuffs
tight to my wrists, and my fuzz was thin and sparse at my wrists. None showed,
especially under the coat of grime.
    So I shoved the tray away so it almost fell. He caught it
up, the dishes sliding as the ship rolled the other way. Not a word of
annoyance, or even a flash of anger escaped him as he steadied the tray, one
elbow against the bulkhead. Then, timing his movement to the roll of the ship,
he got out the cabin door, and closed it gently behind him.
    I didn’t bother to check and see if it was either locked or
warded. Exhausted, full for the first time in days, I stretched out on the
bunk.
    I don’t remember falling into sleep.

THREE
    The cabin was dark when I woke, starlight glowing in the
little window revealing a stone jug of fresh water. I drank most of it, then
got up and stretched. Now was time to have a look around, without nosy
servants, or mage-students, or scribes. Whatever Hlanan was.
    I don’t care , I thought. I just want him and his questions out of my life.
    I reached for the cabin door with one hand, the other going
to the loop in my waistband where I kept my lock-picking tool, but to my
surprise the door opened. I slid noiselessly out. The night was clear and warm,
the stars pale lights overhead, and one of the moons lay in a golden crescent
just above the horizon.
    A couple of sailors noticed me, but went about their
business. I spotted a wide hatch with the honey-hued glow of lantern-light
spilling out, and ghosted near as voices floated through the open space.
    Someone strummed fingers along the metal strings of a
tiranthe.
    The notes shimmered in the quiet air, high, down to low,
sending an echo to shiver through my bones and sinews, down into my brain to
stir very old memories that I still couldn’t quite reach. Once, surely, I knew
music. Why else would it come so often in my dreams?
    A flicker of brightness, no more—the Blue Lady holding out
her arms to me—then the image was gone, like the sparkle of the sun on water.
    The images wouldn’t come back, but the feelings lingered. I
slipped down the stairs as if compelled by some spell, knowing it was stupid.
There was no reason for all these useless emotions of sadness and longing.
    A thief has no time for music. After all, you can’t steal it
or spend it. I remembered the time, two or three kingdoms away, when I’d stolen
a tiranthe. But when I got it to a place where I could try it, I found out fast
that listening and playing are two vastly different things.
    I laughed at the memory—but my feet wouldn’t move on.
    A male voice joined the tiranthe’s glissades, a clear, warm
tenor, and I oozed up to the open cabin door and peeked in. Lounging on a bunk,
the center of attention, was that copper-haired fellow in velvet. The soft
firelight made art of his fine cheekbones, the curve of his generous lips, the
cerulean blue of his eyes as he sang a ballad in a tongue I’d never heard
before, but as always the words formed into patterns, and the sense seeped in
after.
    Eugh! There I was, doing what I had vowed