pick-pockets disposed of to fences. There was one minor problem, at least as Orm foresaw. Because they were the expensive toys of the very rich, they should be relatively rare, but Orm's information led him to believe that there were more of them here in Kingsford than in many cities Orm had been in. This might have been because a good many of them were gifts from Duke Arden to people he particularly wanted to reward, and Arden had strong Deliambren alliances. This was especially evidenced in the presence of the crimson-winged map-maker, who was, word had it in some circles, helping Arden and Kingsford as a token of Deliambren concern. Pens, however, were more tangible, and likely cheaper than even a day's work from the Haspur.
The fence that Orm was sent to had three of the things, all three of them identical to Rufen's. The case was of black enameled metal, with a close-fitting cap and a lever on the side that somehow enabled the contrivance to drink up the ink it was dipped into. The fence demonstrated one of the devices for Orm with considerable casualness that suggested he must have had these three for some time.
'How much?' Orm asked.
The fence laughed. 'What would you say to fifteen silver for the lot?'
Orm was extremely surprised at the low price for a Deliambren rarity, and allowed his surprise to show. 'I would tell you I would buy the lot,' he said, certain that the fence could not be serious. 'And you, of course, would laugh at me and tell me that of course, you meant to say gold and not silver.'
The fence acknowledged his surprise, and grimaced.
'I haven't had anyone that wanted one of these for a year. I would gladly sell you all three for fifteen silver, and think myself pleased with the bargain.'
Fifteen silver! Orm thought. Why, that's a fraction of their real value—
'Now, don't think to go making a profit,' the fence admonished, 'Don't think to take 'em out on the street and peddle 'em. Fact is, a constable that notices you've got one of 'em had better know you're a High Muckety Muck yourself, or you'll get clapped in gaol faster'n you can think. That's the trouble; they're easy t'lift but hard t'get rid of. Lots 'o people look at 'em and want 'em bad, but what's the point if you're gonna get arrested if you show one?'
'Then why did you take them if you know you can't be rid of them?' Orm asked.
'I got them in a lot of other stuff,' the fence told him. 'If I'd known they were in there, I might not have bought it. Maybe you could take 'em out of the city and sell 'em, but not here—and you'd have to get a good piece away just to be safe.'
'The things just are not like jewelry, are they?' Orm observed, and the fence nodded his round head vigorously.
'Pree-cisely!' His head bobbed like a child's toy as he waxed enthusiastic. 'You get a bit'o jewelry that's hard to dispose of, you can break it down—not these! You even try to open one to see how it's put together, you got a big mess and a lot'o little useless bits.'
He speaks as if he had experience with that situation, Orm thought with amusement. I wonder if he meant to try and have the things duplicated? He could make a lively business of them if he could—but I suppose he didn't know that the Deliambrens have a habit of making sure no one can actually take any of their devices apart for precisely that reason.
'And if I don't show them in public?' he asked.
Again, the fence shook his head. 'If you figger on keeping these in the house, like, you'll be all right. But don't forget and carry one out with you. I won't be responsible if you do.'
Orm chuckled, and promised he'd be careful, then bought all three pens for half the price he thought he'd have to pay for one.
He tucked them into a hidden pocket inside his coat, making sure they were secure from pickpockets. It would be supremely ironic to have bought them from a fence only to have a pickpocket steal them back.
He decided to keep one for himself, and give the other two to Rand; he rather liked the look of the things himself, and was already thinking of ways to disguise his so that he could use it in public. He always had enjoyed a challenge, and this was one worth pursuing as an exercise for his cleverness.
Rand was so pleased that Orm had gotten, not just one, but two pens, and quickly, that he actually produced a monetary bonus for his employee. The bonus was a sizable one, large enough that Orm was taken aback by it. Rand hadn't given him a bonus since the earliest days of their association, and never one this big.
Rand also gave him the evening off—officially—and leave to go spend it however he cared to. 'Go on,' the Bird croaked. 'Enjoy yourself however best pleases you. Do not return until dawn, if that is your wish.'
'Thank you,' he said flatly. Such 'permission' was as galling as the bonus was pleasurable, although Rand probably was not aware that it was.
