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MONEY'S WORTH by Bradley H. Sinor
Bradley H. Sinor has seen many of his short stories published in the last few years in numerous anthologies, such as Knight Fantastic, Dracula in London, Bubbas of The Apocalypse, Merlin, Men Writing SF As Women, Haunted Holidays, On Crusade: More Tales of The Knights Templar, International House of Bubbas, Gateways, and All Hell Breaking Loose. Three collections of his short fiction are available: Dark and Stormy Nights, In The Shadows, and Playing With Secrets (which also features two stories by his wife, Susan Sinor). His nonfiction appeared in a variety of magazines. His latest essays can be found in Stepping Through The Stargate and The Cherryh Odessey. His Web site is located at www.zettesworld.com/Sinor/index.htm.
I HAD MY hand on the dagger before I was fully awake. Sleeping with a knife under your pillow isn’t the most comfortable thing to do, though you can get used to it. I’d rather be uncomfortable than wake to a sword at my throat.
When I had leased the villa last month, the caretaker had apologized profusely about the number of things that needed fixing; after all, the place had been empty for nearly two years.
One of the problems he had mentioned was the hinges on the master bedroom door; they squeaked and needed replacing. He had sworn by any number of local gods that he would have it fixed quickly.
It hadn’t been. Right then, I didn’t have a problem with those squeaky hinges. They had been enough to awaken me.
There were two intruders, small hunkered forms clinging far too closely together as they came across the floor. When they sprang, I threw my blanket over them as I rolled over the other side of the bed.
“So what enemies have tried to ambush me?” I demanded, my voice as melodramatic as possible, since I already knew the identities of these intruders. I threw the blanket aside and fought hard to suppress a grin at the scene in front of me, a jumble of legs, arms, and tangled hair, mixed in with gasps and giggling. “Is it some demon or perhaps an advance scout for the Kelmigie Horde? Whatever foul creature it is I will crush it under my heel and serve the remnants to the dogs!”
“No!” The bundle of arms and legs separated into two forms and scrambled madly toward the far side of the bed.
Kellian was eight; his sister Jayce was two years younger, but nearly as tall. Their red hair came from my side of the family. Their chaotic nature was a legacy from both their father and myself.
“It’s us, Mother,” Kellian yelled.
“Really it is,” his sister added.
“I don’t know! Those could be very good disguises. You could be dwarfs from the deep mines. I’d best beat you severely, just in case.”
Jayce turned to her brother. “I told you this was a bad idea, that Mommy would be mad and punish us.”
I wasn’t mad; I was actually quite pleased with the two of them. They had been at each other’s throats for the last several days, over some incident that they had both forgotten by now. That they had made peace and decided to attack me was a good sign.
“Mother, we were just playing! We thought it would be fun to play Kyber assassins!” Kellian proclaimed.
Kyber assassins? It didn’t surprise me the least bit.
There were half a hundred tall tales about the Guild, told by children and adults to frighten each other, most all of them far, far from the truth.
Nothing in my possession had the Guild name on it; only a seal, hidden away in a compartment in one of my trunks even bore the emblem.
“All right! I believe you aren’t dwarves wearing a disguise spell to make me think you are my children. I will let you off, this time, young Kybers.” I picked up a piece of fruit from the table next to my bed, and broke it into several smaller sections. “But only if you help me eat this. Do you agree to my terms?”
“Yes!”
Six weeks ago I had a
I had chosen Yallon’s Bay because it was several days’ travel from the capital, far enough away for some privacy but close enough not to be completely out of touch.
Of course, this was not the first time I had come to Yallon’s Bay; that had been a decade and a half before with my beloved Micah.
Here, he was remembered as one of the five thousand men lost in the Battle of Summer Falls. I had no intention of disillusioning anyone about that tale; besides, who would want to know that he had died in an attempt to assassinate General Zyon, one of our officers who had defected to the other side. I preferred to let our “friends” think of Micah as a dead war hero and myself as a rich, respectable widow.
The down side of Yallon’s Bay was a number of social obligations that I would cheerfully have ignored; however, attending them was part of my public persona.
“Lady Danya, it is most gratifying to see you again,” Lord Junius had said as I arrived at his home for what had been billed as a small gathering. Conservatively, I estimated that, excluding servants, there were well over fifty other guests: human, dwarves, and elves, along with a smattering of other races.
“Danya, are you all right?”
I turned to look at Cyma Tamu, her thin face furrowed as if she was uncertain of what she wanted to hear me answer. She was an inquisitive sort, but Cyma did have the good sense to know there were some questions that were best left unasked.
I realized that I had been staring out at the bay, studying the ships. There were three new ones that had arrived on the morning tide. They were small, compared to the large merchant ships more common near the capital. But Yallon’s Bay was off the major trade routes and too shallow to take the really large vessels.
“Oh, it’s nothing, Cyma,” I said. “It was just seeing the bay right now, something about the way the light is falling on it reminded me of the first time that Micah and I came here.”
I let a long sigh write a look of nostalgia on my face. Let Cyma take whatever interpretations of it that came to her mind; she was very good at that. Truth be told, Micah and I had first come here seeking a hideout. A mission for the Guild had gone wrong, and we needed to be someplace where no one knew us.
That had been a good time. For a moment I let myself miss Micah more than I had in a long time.
“Now, Danya, you must accept the fact that Micah is gone. Remember always, he died a hero of the Empire; that is something that you and the children can be proud of. While I didn’t know him, I have the feeling that he wouldn’t want you to lose yourself mourning for him forever. You are still young and very beautiful.”
I smiled. “Beautiful, hardly; but thank you, Cyma.”
“You are definitely beautiful, don’t deny it,” she laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, someone can’t take his eyes off you.”
“Indeed?” I asked, searching my memory for any recent arrivals that I was not aware of.
“Oh, yes.” Cyma gestured toward a tall man, dressed in silken finery, at the far end of the room. Even at this distance I could see the marks of elven blood in him-silver-streaked hair, long fingers, and a narrow face.
“Interesting” I said.
“He’s been asking about you,” Cyma said, a slight purr in her words.
“Does he not have the courage to come and face me himself?”
“Who knows what will happen. This gathering has at least several more hours of life in it. Then there is the rest of the night.” The suggestive purr was back in Cyma’s voice.