got some unauthorised bandits operating in the mountains near Cardos, Ehlana,’ Platime rumbled. The gross, black-bearded man sat with his feet upon the table. There was a wine flagon and goblet at his elbow. His doublet was wrinkled and food-spotted, and his shaggy hair hung down over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. Platime was constitutionally incapable of using formal titles, but the queen chose to overlook that.
‘Unauthorised?’ Kalten sounded amused.
‘You know what I mean,’ Platime growled. ‘They don’t have permission from the thieves’ council to operate in that region, and they’re breaking all the rules. I’m not positive, but I think they’re some of the former henchmen of the Primate of Cimmura. You blundered there, Ehlana. You should have waited until you had them in custody before you declared them outlaws.’
‘Oh well,’ she shrugged. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ Ehlana’s relationship with Platime was peculiar. She realised that he was unable to mouth the polite formulas of the nobility, and so she accepted a bluntness from him that would have offended her had it come from anyone else. For all his faults, Platime was turning into a gifted, almost brilliant counsellor, and Ehlana valued his advice greatly. ‘I’m not surprised to find out that Annias’ old cronies have turned to highway robbery in their hour of need. They were all bandits to begin with anyway. There have always been outlaws in those mountains, though, so I doubt that another band will make all that much difference.’
‘Ehlana,’ he sighed, ‘you’re the same as my very own baby sister, but sometimes you’re terribly ignorant. An authorised bandit knows the rules. He knows which travellers can be robbed or killed and which ones have to be left alone. Nobody gets too excited if some overstuffed merchant gets his throat cut and his purse lifted, but if a government official or a high-ranking nobleman turns up dead in those mountains, the authorities have to take steps to at least make it appear that they’re doing their jobs. That sort of official attention is very bad for business. Perfectly innocent criminals get rounded up and hanged. Highway robbery’s not an occupation for amateurs. And there’s another problem as well. These bandits are telling all the local peasantry that they’re not really robbers, but patriots rebelling against a cruel tyrant – that’s you, little sister. There’s always enough discontent among the peasants to make some of them sympathetic toward that sort of thing. You aristocrats haven’t any business getting involved in crime. You always try to mix politics in with it.’
‘But my dear Platime,’ she said winsomely, ‘I thought you knew. Politics is a crime.’
The fat man roared with laughter. ‘I love this girl,’ he told the others. ‘Don’t worry too much about it, Ehlana. I’ll try to get some men inside their band, and when Stragen gets back, we’ll put our heads together and work out some way to put those people out of business.’
‘I knew I could count on you,’ she said. She rose to her feet. ‘If that’s all we have, gentlemen, I have an appointment with my dressmaker.’ She looked around. ‘Coming, Sparhawk?’
‘In a moment,’ he replied. ‘I want to have a word with Platime.’
She nodded and moved toward the door.
‘What’s on your mind, Sparhawk?’ Platime asked.
‘I saw Naween last night when I rode into town. She’s working the streets.’
‘Naween? That’s ridiculous! Half the time she even forgets to take the money.’
‘That’s what I told her. She and Shanda had a falling-out, and she was standing on a street corner near the east gate. I sent her to an inn to get her out of the weather. Can we make some kind of arrangement for her?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Platime promised.
Ehlana had not yet left the room, and Sparhawk sometimes forgot how sharp her ears were. ‘Who’s this Naween?’ she asked from the doorway with a slight edge to her voice.
‘She’s a whore,’ Platime shrugged, ‘a special friend of Sparhawk’s.’
‘Platime!’ Sparhawk gasped.
‘Isn’t she?’
‘Well, I suppose so, but when you say it that way –’ Sparhawk groped for the right words.
‘Oh. I didn’t mean it that way, Ehlana. So far as I know, your husband’s completely faithful to you. Naween’s a whore. That’s her occupation, but it doesn’t have anything to do with her friendship – not that she didn’t make Sparhawk some offers – but she makes those offers to everybody. She’s a very generous girl.’
‘Please, Platime,’ Sparhawk groaned, ‘don’t be on my side any more.’
‘Naween’s a good girl,’ Platime continued to explain to Ehlana. ‘She works hard, she takes good care of her customers and she pays her taxes.’
‘Taxes?’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘Are you telling me that my government encourages that sort of thing? Legitimises it by taxing it?’
‘Have you been living on the moon, Ehlana? Of course she pays taxes. We all do. Lenda sees to that. Naween helped Sparhawk once while you were sick. He was looking for that Krager fellow, and she helped him. Like I said, she offered him other services as well, but he turned her down – politely. She’s always been a bit disappointed in him about that.’
‘You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said ominously.
‘As your Majesty wishes,’ he sighed as she swept coolly from the room.
‘She doesn’t know very much about the real world, does she, Sparhawk?’
‘It’s her sheltered upbringing.’
‘I thought you were the one who brought her up.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then you’ve only got yourself to blame. I’ll have Naween stop by and explain it all to her.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
Talen came in from Demos the next day, and he rode into the courtyard with Sir Berit. Sparhawk and Khalad met them at the stable door. The prince consort was making some effort to be inconspicuous until such time as the queen’s curiosity about Naween diminished. Talen’s nose was red, and his eyes looked puffy. ‘I thought you were going to stay at the farm until you got over that cold,’ Sparhawk said to him.
‘I couldn’t stand all that mothering,’ Talen said, slipping down from his saddle. ‘One mother is bad enough, but my brothers and I have two now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look another bowl of chicken soup in the face again. Hello, Khalad.’
‘Talen,’ Sparhawk’s burly young squire grunted. He looked critically at his half-brother. ‘Your eyes look terrible.’
‘You ought to see them from in here.’ Talen was about fifteen now, and he was going through one of those ‘stages’. Sparhawk was fairly certain that the young thief had grown three inches in the past month and a half. A goodly amount of forearm and wrist stuck out of the sleeves of his doublet. ‘Do you think the cooks might have something to eat?’ the boy asked. As a result of his rapid growth, Talen ate
