The Redemption of Althalus. David Eddings

cup, bowed floridly to the other men in the tavern, and gaily set off to see the wonders of civilization for himself.

PART ONE

       The House at the End of the World

CHAPTER ONE

      Althalus the thief spent ten days on the road down out of the mountains of Kagwher to reach the imperial city of Deika. As he was coming out of the foothills, he passed a limestone quarry where miserable slaves spent their lives under the whip laboriously sawing building blocks out of the limestone with heavy bronze saws. Althalus had heard about slavery, of course, but this was the first time he’d ever actually seen slaves. As he strode on toward the plains of Equero, he had a little chat with his good luck about the subject, strongly suggesting to her that if she really loved him, she’d do everything she possibly could to keep him from ever becoming a slave.

      The city of Deika lay at the southern end of a large lake in northern Equero, and it was even more splendid than the stories had said it was. It was surrounded by a high stone wall made of squared-off limestone blocks, and all the buildings inside the walls were also made of stone.

      The broad streets of Deika were paved with flagstones, and the public buildings soared to the sky. Everyone in town who thought he was important wore a splendid linen mantle, and every private house was identified by a statue of its owner – usually so idealized that any actual resemblance to the man so identified was purely coincidental.

      Althalus was garbed in clothes suitable for the frontier, and he received many disparaging glances from passers-by as he viewed the splendors of the imperial city. After a while, he grew tired of that and sought out a quarter of town where the men in the streets wore more commonplace garments and less superior expressions.

      Finally he located a fishermen’s tavern near the lakefront, and he stopped there to sit and to listen, since fishermen the world over love to talk. He sat unobtrusively nursing a cup of sour wine while the tar-smeared men around him talked shop.

      ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before,’ one of the men said to Althalus.

      ‘I’m from out of town,’ Althalus replied.

      ‘Oh? Where from?’

      ‘Up in the mountains. I came down to look at civilization.’

      ‘Well, what do you think of our city?’

      ‘Very impressive. I was almost as impressed with your city as some of the town’s rich men seemed to be with themselves.’

      One of the fishermen laughed cynically. ‘You passed near the forum, I take it.’

      ‘If that’s the place where all the fancy buildings are, yes I did. And if you want it, you can take as much of my share of it as you want.’

      ‘You didn’t care for our rich men?’

      ‘Apparently not as much as they did, that’s for certain. People like us should avoid the rich if we possibly can. Sooner or later, we’ll probably be bad for their eyes.’

      ‘How’s that?’ another fisherman asked.

      ‘Well, all those fellows in the forum – the ones who wear fancy nightgowns in the street – kept looking down their noses at me. If a man spends all his time doing that, sooner or later it’s going to make him cross-eyed.’

      The fishermen all laughed, and the atmosphere in the tavern became relaxed and friendly. Althalus had skillfully introduced the topic dearest to his heart, and they all spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the rich men of Deika. By evening, Althalus had committed several names to memory. He spent another few days narrowing down his list, and he ultimately settled on a very wealthy salt merchant named Kweso. Then he went to the central market-place, visited the marble-lined public baths, and then dipped into his purse to buy some clothing that more closely fit into the current fashion of Deika. The key word for a thief who’s selecting a costume for business purposes is ‘nondescript’, for fairly obvious reasons. Then Althalus went to the rich men’s part of town and spent several more days – and nights – watching merchant Kweso’s walled-in house. Kweso himself was a plump, rosy-cheeked bald man who had a sort of friendly smile. On a number of occasions Althalus even managed to get close enough to him to be able to hear him talking. He actually grew to be rather fond of the chubby little fellow, but that’s not unusual, really. When you get right down to it, a wolf is probably quite fond of deer.

      Althalus managed to pick up the name of one of Kweso’s neighbors, and, with a suitably business-like manner, he went in through the salt merchant’s gate one morning, walked up to his door and knocked. After a moment or two, a servant opened the door. ‘Yes?’ the servant asked.

      ‘I’d like to speak with Gentleman Melgor,’ Althalus said politely. ‘It’s on business.’

      ‘I’m afraid you have the wrong house, sir,’ the servant said. ‘Gentleman Melgor’s house is the one two doors down.’

      Althalus smacked his forehead with his open hand. ‘How stupid of me,’ he apologized. ‘I’m very sorry to have disturbed you.’ His eyes, however, were very busy. Kweso’s door latch wasn’t very complicated, and his entryway had several doors leading off it. He lowered his voice. ‘I hope my pounding didn’t wake your master,’ he said.

      The servant smiled briefly. ‘I rather doubt it,’ he said. ‘The master’s bedroom is upstairs at the back of the house. He usually gets out of bed about this time in the morning anyway, so he’s probably already awake.’

      ‘That’s a blessing,’ Althalus said, his eyes still busy. ‘You said that Melgor’s house is two doors down?’

      ‘Yes.’ The servant leaned out through the doorway and pointed. ‘It’s that way – the house with the blue door. You can’t miss it.’

      ‘My thanks, friend, and I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’ Then Althalus turned and went back out to the street. He was grinning broadly. His luck was still holding him cuddled to her breast. The ‘wrong house’ ploy had given him even more information than he’d expected. His luck had encouraged that servant to tell him all sorts of things. It was still quite early in the morning, and if this was Kweso’s normal time to rise, that was a fair indication that he went to bed early as well. He’d be sound asleep by midnight. The garden around his house was mature, with large trees and broad flowering bushes that would provide cover. Getting inside the house would be no problem, and now Althalus knew where Kweso’s bedroom was. All that was left to do was to slip into the house in the middle of the night, go directly to Kweso’s bedroom, wake him, and lay a bronze knife against his throat to persuade him to cooperate. The whole affair could be settled in short order.

      Unfortunately, however, it didn’t turn out that way at all. The salt merchant’s chubby, good-natured face obviously concealed a much sharper mind than Althalus expected. Not long after midnight, the clever thief scaled the merchant’s outer wall, crept through the garden, and quietly entered the house. He stopped in the entryway to listen. Except for a few snores coming from the servants’ quarters, the house was silent. As quietly as a shadow, Althalus went to the foot of the stairs and started up.

      It was at that point that Kweso’s house became very noisy. The three dogs were almost as large as ponies, and their deep-throated barking seemed almost to shake the walls.

      Althalus immediately changed his plans. The open air of the night-time streets suddenly seemed enormously attractive.

      The