Thieves' Gambit
Chapter 27
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XXVII.


     
     His eyes were hollow, and incredibly ancient.  The gaunt-
looking half-elf sat unseeing in the tavern, a small glass of
irryban in his hand.  The Guildmaster slid into the booth beside
Kelain, shaking his head in mingled pity and disgust.  He caught
the eye of one of the tavern slaves.  "Server!  Bring a bowl of
stew and an ale over here."  
     Alun had never stopped trying to reach Kelain since the raid,
but he had enjoyed precious little success.  "Damn it, man, you've
eaten next to nothing for the past week.  What is that you're
drinking?  Irryban dreamdraught?"  
     The Guildmaster felt an internal disquiet.  Irryban was hardly
an illegal or even very potent drug, but he never thought that he
would live to see the day that the stiff-necked half-elf would take
refuge in such a thing.  He added in a softer voice, "Does it help
you forget?"
     Kelain never looked at him, preferring to gaze at the cold
stone wall.  "No, Alun.  It helps me remember."
The Guildmaster shuddered, imagining Kelain's continual torment
enhanced by the drug.  "Why drink it, then?"  Alun wanted to dash
the glass from his hand and shatter it on the floor.
     Kelain turned dead eyes on him.  "I prefer to remember.  And
to be left alone, Guildmaster."  There was absolutely no expression
in his voice, and it made Alun wince.  
     Their stew arrived. "I'll leave when you eat this, and no
sooner."  Alun shoved the steaming bowl in front of Kelain and
folded his arms across his chest.  Reluctantly, not looking at the
food, Kelain began to spoon it in.  The Guildmaster watched until
he was satisfied, then rose to go.  "And drink ale, damn you.  Not
that irryban gheb'sh."  He wasn't even sure that Kelain heard his
parting shot, though it was more than likely that everyone else in
the tavern had.  Sighing, he left the room.
     The Healer's Hall was bright and well-lit, but the
Guildmaster's gloom seemed to darken the spacious chamber.  Alun
nodded briskly to the man who was steadily crushing dried herbs to
a powder with a stone pestle.  "I need your help."  He didn't
elaborate further, knowing that Kraegh would easily read the
thoughts that were uppermost in his mind.  
     The empath sighed.  "There is little I can do for him, Alun. 
He will allow nothing to ease his pain, not even in his dreams.  I
have tried, and his answer is to drink irryban."  Kraegh's face
drew itself into a grimace of disgust.  The mild stimulant,
chemically related to the more potent dreamdust, had the opposite
effect on the imbiber.  Instead of clouding memories and emotions,
it tended to make them even more sharp and clear.  "He feels that
he deserves no less for what he has done."
     "What does he think he did?"  All of Alun's pent-up fury
suddenly exploded, and he was nearly shouting.  "Does that self-
centered bastard think that he is the cause of everything that
happens in the universe?"
     "He believes he is to blame for the deaths of Alea and Orin." 
Kraegh stated simply.  "If Alea had not loved him, and if Kelain
had not agreed that Orin had a right to go on the raid, neither of
them would be dead.  That is his reasoning."  The healer made a wry
face.  "I got that much before he found me walking through his
dreams and tossed me out.  His mind is strong.  If he or his friend
Raak ever decided to learn another trade, we could easily have two
more full mages in the Guild."
     "That's ridiculous.  About it being his fault, I mean."  He
amended his statement hastily, having no desire to contradict the
powerful Talent in his own specialty.  "Alea chose to help him of
her own free will, and I suspect that Orin would have done what he
did in any case."  Alun looked questioningly at the healer.
     "You're right.  The boy was determined to go."  He was
nodding.
     Alun felt a sudden twinge of guilt.  "Perhaps I should have
watched the cub more carefully - "
     The healer cut him off.  "No.  Believe me, there was nothing
you could have done.  You ordered him to stay with us, but he
disobeyed you.  He never reached our group, and we had no time to
look for him."
     "As you say."  The pragmatic Guildmaster dismissed the matter
from his mind.  "There is nothing you can do for Kelain?" 
     "Not until he consents, and that he will not do until he gives
up his guilt."  Kraegh shook his head sadly.  "Which he is not
likely to do soon.  To lose a love before it can be or a student
before he can learn are terribly hard things.  Kelain has lost both
at once.  Time will be his best healer."
     The Guildmaster nodded and left the Hall.  It was time to
catch up on some of the long-neglected paperwork that he had been
ignoring in favor of trying to help his friend.  It was time to get
back to work.  
     He descended the deep staircase with an attitude of
resignation.  He was not looking forward to dealing with the stacks
that had built up since the raid.  He seated himself at his desk
and began to peruse the thin sheets of beaten and pressed wood pulp
with more than a little distaste.  The usual apprenticeship
records, merchant accounts, spies' reports of intrigue and tithe
scrolls stared dismally up at him as he began to shuffle through
the stacks.  Until he found a piece of paper that made him sit bolt
upright and open his eyes in stunned surprise.
     Alun had always been a man of action, and he saw no reason to
change that now.  He jumped out of his chair and summoned one of
his pages.  He sent the boy off on the errand with the promised
bonus of a silver piece if he ran his fastest, and headed
downstairs with no little satisfaction.
     Kelain was gone when he arrived in the large, smoky tavern. 
He made a few judicious inquiries, and learned that the morose
half-elf had last been seen heading in the direction of the Pits,
Reshor's famed gladiatorial arena.  Alun wondered what in the world
Kelain would be doing there.  Then he was afraid he knew.
     He ran for the Healer's Hall, yelling.  Kraegh met him halfway
across the yard.  "I heard you, Guildmaster."  Alun knew that the
healer wasn't speaking literally; chances were that he had picked
up the Guildmaster's cry telepathically.  "You think that Kelain's
gone for the arena?"
     Alun nodded grimly.  "Looks like it."  He wouldn't normally be
worried, since he knew that Kelain's fighting prowess equalled or
exceeded that of almost any professional fighter in the city, but
he suspected that Kelain might be deliberately fighting to lose. 
     Kraegh closed his eyes and concentrated for a long moment. 
"No.  He's in the audience, not the arena.  He's watching from the
benches, but his mind is closed to me.  I can't get through to him
without hurting him."  He looked sad, and suddenly years older. 
"He doesn't deserve any more pain."
     Alun had to agree with him.  "I'll have to send a runner,
then.  I need him in my office right away." 
     "What's up, Guildmaster?"  Kraegh looked at him curiously.  
Alun grinned and opened his mind.  "That's what's up.  Feel
better?"
     His reply was a beautiful chorus of sound and color in his
mind as the powerful empath smiled broadly.  Much better, Alun. 
"I'll tap one of my apprentices to get him.  At least one of the
small nuisances must be in the area."  The warmth of his tone
belied his disparaging words.  Kraegh was well known for his
kindness to younglings, especially his own students.
     "Thanks, Kraegh.  I'll be waiting in my office."  
     The healer closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. 
Apprentice, report!  Kraegh grinned at the bewilderment in his
student's mind.   The boy was new to his training, and it was
obvious that he still wasn't entirely used to hearing voices in his
mind.  I can see that you're at the gambling booth near the arena. 
No, I'm not mad at you.  At least, I won't be if you can run a
short errand for the Guildmaster.  Go and find the one who looks
like this -  He projected a clear picture of the brooding half-elf
to his apprentice.  Tell him that the Guildmaster wants him in his
office, immediately.  And tell him it's good news.   He deftly
withdrew himself from the boy's mind and sat back in his chair,
pleased with himself.   
     Tarvi Aldana scurried as fast as his small feet could take
him, away from the brightly painted canvas tents of the gamesters. 
He vowed silently to himself to never, never do anything that the
master might disapprove of.  Having an teacher who could read your
mind no matter where you were had its disadvantages, even if he was
apprenticed to the best Healer in the most powerful Guild of
Reshor.
     Tarvi entered the arena with little difficulty, reaching out
to blank the money-taker's mind as he passed by without paying.  No
sense in spending good copper when I don't have to, he thought
cheerily.   Then, belatedly: I hope Kraegh doesn't mind.  That
spoiled his enjoyment of the deed somewhat.
     The sun beat mercilessly down on the unshaded benches of the
stadium and the baked sands of the arena.   Sellers of paper shade-
canopies and brightly colored silken parasols could be seen doing
a brisk business in the aisles, and many of the wealthier among the
crowd were indulging in their wares.  The odors of sticky pastries,
strips of roasted meat, salted leng-nuts and other savory treats
being sold by the arena vendors competed for prominence in the air. 
 
     Tarvi took a long and hungry sniff at the deliciously mingled
odors, but he knew that his stomach's satisfaction would have to
wait until he had run the requested errand.  Afterward, there would
be time enough to beg a bite from a soft-hearted cook, or perhaps
to try to glamour someone into taking a rock instead of a copper
piece.  He wasn't sure he could manage that trick yet, but he
thought he might try it.  After he had asked permission of his
master, he amended mentally.
     He surveyed the crowd dubiously.  It would be the work of
several hours to search each row of patrons, but with a little help
from his Talent, he might yet manage to accomplish his goal and
return to the Guild in time for lunch.  Tarvi carefully recalled
the mental image that Kraegh had given him, and concentrated.  
     What he was attempting would have been far easier if he had
ever met the person in question.  It was difficult to get enough of
a person's mental "feel" from a simple mind-image to single him out
of a crowd.  Still, Kraegh projected some pretty good pictures, not
like the ones he used to have to pick out of his packmates' minds. 
Tarvi closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could to tune into
this nameless person's aura.
     He slammed up against something hard, and he nearly choked. 
This one had to be the strongest mind in the crowd, and it was 
projecting something fierce.  A barrier of raw pain and mental
anguish was blocking his attempts to reach out to it, and he was
surprised that the owner of that agony wasn't screaming loud enough
for him to hear across the arena.   He retreated hastily from the
mental contact, but not before he had determined that this was the
person he had been sent for.
     Tarvi took off at a fast run towards the mind that he had
sensed, broadcasting loudly to his master at the same time.  I
found him, but I think he's hurt or in trouble.  Send help!
     The answer came back almost before he had time to send it. 
Don't panic.  Stay in contact.  Kraegh was afraid that Alun's worst
fears had been confirmed, and he focused his awareness grimly
through the boy's mind.  He reached out to do a tentative Scrying
on the half-elf, carefully keeping his sensings strictly on the
physical plane so as not to trigger Kelain's barriers.  
     The Healer and his student came to the same conclusion at
about the same time, just as Tarvi completed his breathless run. 
He's not hurt.  At least, not physically.  Both of them breathed a
single sigh of relief.
     The slender half-elf was gazing moodily at the spectacle of
the pit fights, a tall glass of dark liquid in his hand.  The look
in his eyes was disquieting as he watched the combatants slash and
hack at one another with their blunted metal swords.  "Sir, the
Guildmaster wants to see you in his office right away.  Master
Kraegh told me to say that it's good news."  Tarvi gasped the
message out.
     Kelain barely looked at him.  He drained the glass.  "Tell him
I'll be there."  
     Kraegh mentally prompted his student.  "Uh, my teacher wants
to know what you were doing here," Tarvi asked hesitantly.
     Kelain turned and regarded the youth.  Tarvi wished he hadn't. 
"They wouldn't serve me any more irryban at the tavern, so I took
my business elsewhere.  You can tell Kraegh that for me."
     "You weren't registering to fight?"  Tarvi spoke the words
that Kraegh put into his mind reluctantly.  He didn't feel right,
somehow, questioning this somber man.
     A sour look appeared on Kelain's face.  "Is that your
business?"
     "It's your Guildmaster's business."  Kraegh prompted him to
speak sternly, and he did his best.
     Kelain sighed resignedly.  "It isn't that easy to get into the
lists, you know."
     "So you're not fighting today."  Tarvi spoke quickly, as soon
as the words formed in his mind.  He could feel Kraegh's mental
chuckle.  He'll fall neatly for this one.
     "No, I'm fighting -"  He stopped and shook his head,
acknowledging defeat.  "Tomorrow.  You bastard.  Is that Kraegh
talking through you?"
     Tarvi nodded.  "He wants you to go back to the Guildhouse in
a hurry.  He says there's something there that you should
definitely see.  He feels happy about it."
     Kelain shrugged with cold indifference and started walking
towards the nearest exit.  "Well enough.  Though if he thinks he
can keep me from the arena tomorrow, he's sadly mistaken."
     Is that what we're going to do?  Tarvi queried.  Stop him from
fighting? 
     No.  The Healer replied flatly.  And if you're hungry, you
just head on home.  There's enough prejudice against our kind
without you adding to it by putting rocks in someone's money pouch. 
If you steal, do it wisely and in a way that won't cause trouble
for those with the Talent.   Do you understand?
     His answer was subdued.  Yes, Teacher.  I understand.  But can
I -  He swiftly outlined an alternative plan.
     All right.  But be careful, and don't get caught if you steal. 
If you do get caught, don't use your Gift.  Remember, the Guild
will take care of you.
     Tarvi nodded and cut off the communication.  Before he made
his way back to the Guildhouse, he found a vendor selling
delicious-looking cakes and pies from a small cart.  Those pastries
smelled awfully good, and though he was fed heartily enough at the
Guildhall, he rarely saw such treats at the apprentice's mess.  
     He rubbed his eyes with his grubby fingers to make them start
to tear, and he put on his most pitiful expression.  "Merchant-
Lady, I'm hungry and I haven't any money.  Some bigger boys beat me
and took everything I had, and I haven't eaten all day."  He
sniffled a little, and reached out to her mind.  He discovered
almost instantly from her surface thoughts that she had a son about
his age, and set about intensifying her emotional identification of
him with her son.  If your son was hungry and got beat up, you'd
want someone to give him a hand.  Wouldn't you?
     His ploy worked beautifully.  "Of course, child."  She took
several slightly broken pastries from the lower shelf of the cart
and made a blessing sign at him.  "You can have all of these, since
they've been out all day and I can't sell them tomorrow."  She
looked thoughtful as she handed the lot to him.  "Merciful 'Shara,
you remind me of my son for some reason.  I hope you get home all
right."
     He brightened up suspiciously quickly when she gave him the
pastries, sticky with honey and boiled nut paste.  "Thanks,
Merchant-Lady.  I'll be all right.  Bye."  He ducked his head to
take a swift bite of the one in his hand, supporting the rest of
them in the crook of his elbow.  Balancing them all the way home
would be an awful chore, so he decided to eat as many of them as he
could along the way.  He nibbled briskly on the crisp cakes as he
sauntered towards the arena doors.
     He hadn't quite made it there when a shape interposed itself
in front of him.  "Heyla, cubling.  Those pastries look good.  Why
don't you give them to me?"  A tough, whipcord-thin youth was
standing there and smiling nastily, his hand halfway inside his 
tunic.  It was obvious that a sharpened blade waited there for him
if he gave any argument.
     Tarvi thought fast.  He grinned back at him, trying not to
show his fear.  "Because if I say the word, my dad will kick your
balls so hard you'll be wearing them for a necklace."  He jerked a
thumb at one of the burly, leather-clad arena fighters.  The
warriors were deep in a conversation about weapons and tactics, and
they ignored the two boys behind them.
     The youth looked at him in disbelief, and Tarvi reached out
for the fighter's mind just as he turned to offer him a pastry. 
"Here, want a piece of cake?"  You're really hungry.  Say, `thanks,
son'.
     The man took it with obvious gratitude.  "Thanks, son.  I sure
was hungry."  
     Tarvi gave the youth a meaningful look, and he vanished
rapidly into the crowd.  "You're welcome.  I hope you enjoy the
cake."  He walked off, whistling.
     That was well done, Tarvi.   His teacher's voice sounded
unexpectedly in his mind.  You got your pastries by encouraging a
woman's good conscience, and you took no more than she could 
afford.  And you defended them without using your Talent openly. 
I would say that you have well earned your treats. 
     Tarvi basked in the warmth of his master's approval.  Thank
you, Teacher.
     Just one thing.  Kraegh sounded suddenly disturbed, and Tarvi
quailed.
     Yes, Teacher?
     You do not intend to eat all of these cakes at once?  You will
surely be very sick if you do.
     Tarvi laughed aloud in relief.  I'll save one for you, Master. 
Don't worry.   He could hear Kraegh chuckling in his mind all the
way home.