Changes

fakes were worth twice that. But then again, these were stolen. While it was not likely that the Constables would be searching very hard for the thief who had taken something so small in value, there was still a risk for Nikolas in taking them. Eventually the man, worn down to nothing by Nikolas’ sharp tongue and threats to expose him to the Constables as a thief after all, settled for five silver and twenty coppers for a pile of small gemstones worth, in Mags’ estimation, about twenty silver.

Mags wondered what he was going to do with them.

Nikolas counted out the money reluctantly and shoved it under the bars. The man trudged away.

Nikolas pointed to a stool in one corner and handed Mags some horsehair, then made some meaningless signs. ::You have to look busy,:: he Mindspoke. ::Reading would be out of character, so I supposed you could braid some trinkets to sell here in the shop.::

Mags nodded, scuttled over to the stool, and began to make a pretty, round braid for a bracelet. People came and went, some legitimate, some not. Mags soon learned that Nikolas was a moneylender as well, taking peoples’ possessions as surety against a loan. Those who came in and repaid their loans a bit at a time got their property back. Those who defaulted lost it, and presumably Nikolas sold their goods. One fellow came in and joyfully redeemed his carpentry tools. Nikolas grumbled the entire time he was handing them over.

::This fellow’s a good, honest man,:: Nikolas was saying in Mindspeech as he berated the carpenter. ::He just fell on hard times. I found someone who could take him on so he could get his tools back. He’ll be fine now.::

::Reckon ye didn’ overcharge ’im, neither,:: Mags replied, keeping his face still.

::Well, it would have been out of character for me to be easy on him. Weasel is known as a sharp man, but fair, when it comes to a plain loan.::

But as the night wore on, people came in who were not honest. There was no reason why a fellow with dirt caked black under his fingernails and who clearly had not washed himself nor changed his clothing in a year would own six silver spoons, nor why a woman with paint caked on her face so thick it was cracking and a threadbare velvet gown so low-cut Mags was afraid her breasts were going to pop out of it should have a double handful of silk handkerchiefs, both plain and embroidered. Nikolas bargained with both of them as sharply as he had the gem thief, and with as little evidence that he cared where the loot had come from or how the possessor had acquired it.

Finally, as the trickle of customers slowed and dried up and Mags judged it was getting near dawn, the first man came in again.

“Here!” he said, thrusting something under the bars. “Now thet’ll be worth somethin’!”

Nikolas gestured to Mags, who left off his braiding and joined the Herald at the counter. On the worn wood between them was a brooch set with carnelians and silkstone cabochons. Not worth much in and of themselves, but the workmanship of the brooch itself was incredible, made all of twisted wires of a metal that was so red it looked a little like copper—but which proved on application of the touchstone to be gold. And not plated, either.

Who would mount common stones in a setting of gold wires?

“Huh,” Nikolas said, and stroked his chin. “Huh. I don’t rightly know how t’value that. ’Tis gold. Carnelian and silkstone ain’t worth a lot. But setting—’tis gold. I could gi’ ye th’ gold-weight value... I don’ s’pose this’s somethin’ nobody’d miss.” The last was said with so much sarcasm the words practically sank beneath the weight.

“H’actually, they won’t,” the man said smugly. “I got yon off a corpus. ’E won’t be lookin’ for it, and I misdoubt there’s any sad relations about to shout thief.”

“Grave robbin’, now, are ye?” Nikolas cackled. “But if yon relations should come ’cross it in me shop—”

“They won’t. Or if they do, they won’t say nothin’.” The man grinned smugly. “Furriners what weren’t s’possed t’be here. Fool got hisself kilt by dray wagon this mornin’, an’ his friends lit out babblin’ in some furrin tongue. I might’ve been follerin’ ’em, seein’ as furriners don’t know city an’ might need a guide.”

“Big of ye,” Nikolas said with a snort. “Right, then. I can gi’ ye a bit now an’ a bit more once I make sure this ain’t gonna bring no trouble to m’shop. Here’s gold-weight value—” He shoved a few silver pennies under the bars. “Come back termorrow an’ ye’ll mebbe get that agin.” The man reached for the money, but Nikolas seized his wrist. “Not so fast. I gi’ ye twice as much, if’n ye kin find out where these furriners be bidin’.”

The man stilled. “Who wants t’know?”

Nikolas laughed. “Ye think I’m so daft as t’tell ye, so’s ye kin run to ’em an’ collect my fee?” He let go of the man’s wrist.

::He really does look like a weasel,:: Dallen marveled, watching through Mags’ eyes. Mags kept his shoulders hunched over and his head down. He was actually beginning to enjoy this.

Now, he himself wasn’t at all sure that the brooch was from their murderous “guests.” It wasn’t of a style like anything he had ever seen before, but as he had come to know, there was a great deal of Valdemar out there, and beyond the borders of Valdemar, there were a lot of strange places and people.

Still, if the Weasel was known for taking in things like this, some other trinket might lead them to their targets.

::Is there any way you could tell for certain where this is from?:: Nikolas asked, as the thief rubbed his wrist.

::Not really. Not like stones got liddle maps on ’em sayin’ where they come from. Might could be a Gift thet could tell ye where it’s been, but I ain’t got it. Mebbe I could look at them books the buggers left behind an’ see if’n the designs look alike, but—:: He wanted to shrug, but didn’t. No giving the game away by something out of character. ::I’d’a thunk an art-feller would be more like t’tell ye yea or nay on thet score.::

“I take all the risk, an’ you get all the profit!” the thief whined. “Now I ask you, is that fair?”

Nikolas laughed nastily. “Oh, aye, a lot of risk ye took, takin’ it off a dead man! Afraid he’s gonna haunt ye?”

The thief looked around uneasily. Nikolas laughed again. “Ye got to do next thing t’nothing to get twice what ye got fer this trinket. Keep it in mind.” He shoved the money all the way to the other side of the bars. “I buy lotsa stuff that ain’t trinkets. People pay me t’find out things. I pay people t’find ’em out for me. Understand?”