The Redemption of Althalus. David Eddings

I need to ask you.’

      ‘The best escape route to take after you’ve robbed me?’

      Althalus laughed. ‘No, my Lord. If I really were that other Althalus, I’d have planned my escape before I even came down here. As you’ve probably noticed from my clothes, I’m not an Arum.’

      ‘That had sort of crossed my mind, Master Althalus.’

      ‘Actually I come from over to the east in Ansu, and I’ve been trying to track something down for several years now.’

      ‘Something valuable?’

      ‘Well, not to anybody else, probably, but it’s something I need to have to lay claim to an inheritance. My father’s older brother is the Arkhein of our region.’

      ‘Arkhein?’

      ‘It’s a title of nobility, my Lord – sort of an equivalent to your own title. Anyway, my uncle’s only son – my cousin – had an argument with a bear a few years back, and not many men win those kinds of arguments, since the bears of Ansu are very big and very bad tempered. Anyway, my cousin lost the argument, and since his father, my uncle, only had the one son, his title’s going to be vacant after he dies.’

      ‘And you’ll succeed him? Congratulations, Master Althalus,’ Albron said.

      ‘It’s not quite that cut and dried, my Lord,’ Althalus said, making a sour face. ‘I’ve got another cousin, the son of my father’s younger brother, and he and I were both bom in the same summer. We Ansus don’t have a very precise calendar, so nobody can really be sure which one of us is the eldest.’

      ‘Wars tend to break out over things like that.’

      ‘My uncle, the Arkhein, realized that too, my Lord. That’s when he called my cousin and me to his castle and told us very firmly to stop recruiting armies and forming alliances. Then he told us a story. It seems that many years ago one of our ancestors had owned a very pretty dagger. There’d been one of those little wars that break out in Ansu from time to time, and our ancestor had gotten himself killed. Then, after the sun had gone down, the scoundrels who lurk like vultures around the edges of every battlefield came out to rob the dead.’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Albron said, nodding grimly.

      ‘You’ve seen the same sort of thing yourself, I gather. Anyway, one of those scoundrels picked up our ancestor’s dagger. It didn’t have any jewels in the hilt or anything, but it was ornamental enough that the rascal thought he could probably sell it for enough to make it worth his while. Our uncle told my cousin and me that he was proposing a sort of contest. Whichever one of us could track down that dagger and bring it back to him would be the one who’d get his title.’ Althalus sighed dramatically. ‘I’ve been running hard ever since that day. You would not believe how interesting life can be when you’re looking for an antique with one eye and watching for assassins with the other.’

      ‘Assassins?’

      ‘My other cousin’s a bit lazy, my Lord, so the idea of wandering around the world looking for an ancient knife doesn’t light any warm fires in his heart. He seems to feel that it’d be much easier to have me murdered than it’d be to try to win a race with me. Anyway, to get to the point here, I happened across a fellow who told me that he’d been in your arms-room once, and he said that he was almost certain that he’d seen a knife there that fit the description of the one I’d just told him about’ Althalus cast a covert look at Chief Albron. The story he’d just conjured up out of whole cloth seemed to have fired the Clan-Chief’s imagination. Althalus was quite pleased to discover that he hadn’t lost his touch.

      Chief Albron rose to his feet. ‘Why don’t we go have a look, Arkhein Althalus,’ he suggested.

      ‘I’m not the Arkhein yet, my Lord,’ Althalus amended.

      ‘You will be if that dagger’s in my armory. You’re a well-spoken man with a civilized sense of humor, Althalus. Those are noble qualities, and your cousin’s an absolute knave. I’ll do everything in my power to see to it that you inherit your uncle’s title.’

      Althalus bowed. ‘You honor me, my Lord,’ he said.

      ‘Wasn’t that all just a little thick?’ Emmy’s voice suggested.

      ‘I know these Arums, Em, so I know exactly what kind of story to tell them. Actually, that was a very good one. It had a threat of civil war, a hero, a villain, and a quest fraught with danger. What more does a good story need?’

      ‘A little bit of truth might have added something.’

      ‘I don’t like to contaminate a good story with truth, Em. That’d be a violation of my artistic integrity, wouldn’t it?’

      ‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed.

      ‘Trust me, little kitten. That knife’s as good as in my hands already, and I won’t even have to buy it. Albron’s going to give it to me outright, along with his blessing.’

      Albron’s armory was a stone-walled chamber at the back of his castle, and it was littered with all kinds of swords, axes, pikes, helmets, daggers, and shirts made of chain.

      ‘This is my armorer, Rheud.’ Albron introduced Althalus to a blocky, kilted fellow with a bristling red beard. ‘Describe this dagger you’re looking for to him.’

      ‘It’s about a foot and a half long, master armorer,’ Althalus told the red-bearded man, ‘and it’s got an odd-shaped blade – sort of like a laurel-leaf. There’s a design etched into the blade. From what I understand, the design’s actually writing in some ancient language that nobody understands any more.’

      Rheud scratched his head. ‘Oh,’ he said then, ‘it’s that one. It’s very pretty, but it’s a little ornate for my taste. I prefer more business-like weapons.’

      ‘It’s here, then?’

      ‘Well, it was. Young Eliar came here to arm himself before he went off to that war down in Treborea. He took a fancy to that knife, so I let him take it.’

      Althalus gave chief Albron a puzzled look. ‘Have you got a quarrel of some kind with somebody in Treborea, my Lord?’

      ‘No, it’s a business arrangement. In the old days the lowlanders were always trying to persuade the Clan-Chiefs of Arum to agree to alliances with them – alliances where we’d do the bleeding and they’d get the profit. There was a conclave of all the Clan-Chiefs of Arum about fifty years ago, and the chiefs all agreed that there weren’t going to be any more of those alliances with the lowlanders. The way things are now, if the lowlanders need soldiers, they have to rent them.’

      ‘Rent?’

      ‘It works out very well for us, Master Althalus. We don’t ally ourselves with anybody during those wars, so we don’t get swindled out of our share when the war’s over. It’s all strictly business now. If they want soldiers, they pay for them – in advance – and we won’t accept promissory notes or paper money. They pay in gold, and they pay before any of our men start marching.’

      ‘How did the lowlanders take that?’

      ‘From what I’ve heard, their screams of outrage were echoing off the moon. The Clan-Chiefs of Arum have held firm, though, so now the lowlanders either pay, or they fight their own wars.’ Albron scratched his chin reflectively. ‘We’re a war-like people here in Arum, and there was a time when almost anything could set off a clan war. It’s not that way here any more. There hasn’t been a clan war in Arum for forty years.’

      Althalus grinned at him. ‘Why burn down your neighbors for fun when you can set fire to Perquaine and Treborea for profit?’ he said. ‘Which Treborean city bought the services of this young Eliar?’

      ‘Kanthon, wasn’t it, Rheud?’ Albron asked. ‘Sometimes I lose track. I’ve got men involved in a half-dozen little wars down there right now.’