Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08 by A Tapestry of Lions (v1.0) Page A

to put an end to the intolerable
situation. Plainly he declared, "I am the Prince of Homana."
                He expected apologies, respect, and
got neither.
                The two men exchanged amused
glances. The gap-toothed Homanan nodded. "As good a liar as a thief, isn't
he? Only that's not so good, is it, since you're here?"
                Courage wavered; Kellin shored it up
with a desperate condescension. "I am here with my tutor and four
guardsman, four of the Mufharan Guard." He hoped it would make a suitable
impression, invoking his grandfather's personal company. "Go and ask them;
they will tell you."
                "Wild goose chase," said
the redhead. "Waste of time."
                Desperation nearly engulfed injured
pride. "Go and ask," Kellin directed. "Go to Homana-Mujhar. My
grandsire will tell you the truth."
                "Your grandsire. The
Mujhar?" Gap-tooth laughed, slanting a bright glance at the giant.
                Kellin bared his teeth, desiring
very badly to prove the truth of his claims. But his leathers were smeared with
filth, his bottom lip swollen, and his face, no doubt, as dirty. "My
boots," he said sharply, sticking out one foot. "Would a thief have
boots like these?"
                The redhead grinned. "If he
stole them."
                "But they fit. Stolen boots
would not fit."
                Gap-tooth sighed. "Enough of
your jabber, brat.
                You'll not be harmed, just kept
until someone comes to fetch you."
                "But no one knows where I am!
How can they come?"
                "If you're the Prince of
Homana, they'll know."
                The giant's eyes were bright.
"D'ye think I'm a fool? You've my eyes, boy, plain Homanan green, not the
yellow of a Cheysuli. Next time you want to claim yourself royalty, you'd best
think better of it."
                Kellin gaped. "My granddame is
Ermnish, with hair red as yours—redder! I have her eyes—"
                "Your granddame—and your mother
to boot—was likely a street whore, brat ... no more chatter from you. Into the
room. We're not here to harm you,'just keep you." The red-haired giant
pushed Kellin through another door as Gap-tooth unlocked it. He was dumped
unceremoniously onto a thin pallet in a small, stuffy room, then the door was
locked.
                For a moment Kellin lay sprawled in
shock, speechless in disbelief. Then he realized they'd stripped the rope from
his wrists. He scrambled up and hammered at the door.
                "They won't open it. They
won't."
                Kellin jerked around, seeing the boy
in the corner for the first time. The light was poor, admitted only through a
few holes high up in the walls. The boy slumped against the wall with the
insouciance of a longtime scofflaw. His face was thin, grimy, and bruised. Lank
blond hair hung into his eyes, but his grin was undiminished by Kellin's
blatant surprise.
                "Urchin," the boy said
cheerfully, answering the unasked question.
                Kellin was distracted by newborn
pain in his cut hand, which now lacked Rogan's bandage. He frowned to see the
slices were packed with dirt and other filth; wiping it against his jerkin
merely caused the slices to sting worse. Scowling, he asked, "What kind of
a name is that?"
                "Isn't a name. Haven't got one-
That's what they call me, when they call me." The boy shoved a wrist
through his hair. His eyes were assessive far beyond his years, "Good
leathers, beneath the dirt .. . good boots, too- No thief, are ye?"
                Kellin spat on the cuts and wiped
them again against his jerkin. "Tell them that."
                Urchin grinned. "Won't listen-
All they want is the copper."
                "Copper?"
                "Copper a