The Redemption of Althalus Read Online Free PDF

it?”
    “If you take that to the treasury behind the Senate, they’ll give you a silver coin for it.”
    “Why would they do that? It’s just paper.”
    “It has the seal of the Senate on it. That makes it as good as real silver. Haven’t you ever seen paper money before?”
    A sense of total defeat came crashing down on Althalus as he went to the stable to pick up his horse. His luck had abandoned him. This had been the worst summer in his entire life. Evidently, his luck didn’t want him down here. There was wealth beyond counting in these cities of the plain, but no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t managed to get his hands on any of it. As he mounted his horse, he amended that thought. Last night in Druigor’s countinghouse, he’d had his hands on more money than he’d likely ever see in the rest of his entire life, but he’d just walked away from it, because he hadn’t realized that it
was
money.
    He ruefully conceded that he had no business being in the city. He belonged back on the frontier. Things were just too complicated down here.
    He mournfully rode his horse to the central marketplace of Maghu to trade his civilized clothes for apparel more suitable to the frontier where he belonged.
    The clothier swindled him, but he’d more or less expected that. Nothing down here was ever going to go well for him.
    He wasn’t even particularly surprised to discover when he came out of the clothier’s shop that someone had stolen his horse.

    C H A P T E R     T W O
    H is sense of defeat made Althalus a little abrupt with the first man who passed his place of concealment late the next night. He stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the unwary fellow by the back of his tunic, and slammed him against a stone wall just as hard as he could. The man sagged limply in his hands, and that irritated Althalus all the more. For some reason he’d been hoping for a bit more in the way of a struggle. He let the unconscious man collapse into the gutter and quickly stole his purse. Then, for no reason he could really justify, he dragged the inert body back into the shadows and stole all the man’s clothes.
    He realized as he walked down the dark street that what he’d just done was silly, but in some obscure way it seemed appropriate, since it almost perfectly expressed his opinion of civilization. For some reason the absurdity made him feel better.
    After he’d gone some distance, however, the bundle of clothes under his arm became a nuisance, so he shrugged and threw it away without even bothering to find out if any of the garments fit him.
    As luck had it, the city gates were open, and Althalus left Maghu without even bothering to say good-bye. The moon was almost full, so there was light enough to see by, and he struck out to the north, feeling better with every step. By dawn he was several miles from Maghu, and up ahead he could see the snow-capped peaks of Arum blushing in the pink light of the sunrise.
    It was a long walk from Maghu to the foothills of Arum, but Althalus moved right along. The sooner he left civilization behind, the better. The whole idea of going into the low country had been a mistake of the worst kind. Not so much because he hadn’t profited: Althalus usually squandered every penny he got his hands on. What concerned him about the whole business was the apparent alienation between him and his luck. Luck was everything; money meant nothing.
    He was well up into the foothills by late summer. On a golden afternoon he stopped in a shabby wayside tavern, not because of some vast thirst, but rather out of the need for some conversation with people he could understand.
    “You would not
believe
how fat he is,” a half-drunk fellow was saying to the tavern keeper. “I’d guess he can afford to eat well; he’s got about half the wealth of Arum locked away in his strong room by now.”
    That got our thief’s immediate attention, and he sat down near the tipsy fellow, hoping to hear more.
    The