Four and Twenty Blackbirds

wary here in Kingsford a great deal sooner than I would have thought. None of them are going out at night at all, and a great many of the lone women of the Free Bards have left the city altogether.'

Rand frowned, and Orm noticed that he was no longer as handsome as he had been. His features had coarsened, his forehead seemed lower, and his resemblance to the Black Bird was more pronounced. 'One would think that they had gotten word from some of the other places we've been,' he said, his tone accusing.

Interesting. Does he think I warned them? If that is the case, he may be losing intelligence along with his looks each time he transforms. Orm held back a smirk. 'Well, I did point out to you that the Duke has an interest in these Free Bards. Evidently, he's given orders that his constables are to warn street-musicians here. They might not have believed the constables at first, but they certainly do after your rather spectacular killing on the riverfront.'

Rand didn't snarl, but Orm got the impression that he would have liked to. He glowered instead, and it was clear that he would really have preferred to find someone to punish for these checks to his plan. 'Damn the Duke! Can't the Bardic Guild hold him in check?'

'Not after the Great Fire they can't,' Orm replied, feeling rather smug. 'Their credit is not very high with anyone in Kingsford, not when there are still persistent rumors that they had a part in trying to kill Duke Arden and in starting the Fire. Hadn't you noticed that you never see a Guild Bard on the street? When they have to travel, they do so in closed carriages, and not for warmth or ostentation. If they show their faces insome parts of the city, they're likely to get pelted with refuse.' He warmed to his subject, since it was so obviously annoying Rand. 'And meanwhile, since the Free Bards were the ones who actually foiled the plot, their credit is at an all-time high. Now if it was Guild Bards you wanted to murder, I'd have no shortage of them for you, and very few would mourn their passing.'

Perversely, Orm found that he enjoyed annoying Rand. Perhaps it was the man's superior manner; perhaps it was just that he tried so hard to establish control over everything he came into contact with. Orm had never cared for being 'under control,' and any attempt to put him there only ended in resentment. So often in 'conferences' like this one, the more annoyed Rand became, the more Orm's own humor improved.

Right now Rand was frowning so fiercely that his eyebrows formed a solid bar across his forehead. He looked curiously primitive, as if he might slam a club or gnawed thigh-bone down on the table at any moment.

'There are no women in the Guild,' Rand replied sullenly, stating the obvious. 'If you haven't got any Free Bards, whatdo you have for me?'

'Oh, the usual,' Orm told him. That made Rand look blacker than before, if possible, for 'the usual' was a mix of whores and street-entertainers, and such victims rarely yielded the amount of energy that kept Rand in his proper form for as long as he wished.

Then again, nothing ever kept Rand in his proper form for as long as he wished, so what was the difference?

Instead of answering that frown, Orm ignored it, bending over the map. 'There's a good little prospect who lives here,' he said, indicating a building with the feather-end of his quill-pen. 'She's the closest thing to a musician that we're likely to get for now. Makes her living as half of a pickpocket team; she chants bawdy ballads to collect a crowd while he picks the pockets, he juggles objects thrown to him by the crowd while she picks pockets. It wouldn't be at all difficult to get your knife into his hands, and it could be a fairly plain one. He's often tossed knives to juggle, and if no one claimed this one at the end of his turn, he wouldn't go looking for the owner.'

Rand nodded, still frowning, but listening now. 'What else?' he asked.

'Unlicensed whore living here—' He touched another spot. 'Calls herself a courtesan on the strength of reading poetry to her clients, and the fact that she doesn't charge a set fee. Of course, if you don't pay her what she thinks she's worth, you'll find your pockets lighter after you're home again. She's trained her brat to lift purses while the client's busy. We've done her type before.' He tapped another spot on the map. 'Now, if you don't mind going for a target who works under a roof, you might want this one. Girl here who thinks she's a musician; ran away from home on the strength of it. Can't make a copper on the street, so she's a tavern-wench until somebody notices what a genius she is.' Orm chuckled heartlessly, for the girl was unattractive, sullen, and rebellious, and was probably going to get herself fired before too long. 'She'd be all right if she just played other people's songs. But she's a genius, so she's got to do her own. Problem is, she's got two tunes, no voice, and a knack for lyrics that insult her audience. She's as easy as the pickpocket.'

Now Rand's face cleared a little. 'We'll look at her and the pickpocket, and I suspect we'll take both of them. Probably the pickpocket first, unless you find an opportunity to get the tavern-wench. I don't like working under a roof, but—'

Orm shrugged. 'Suit yourself; unless the constables get her, the pickpocket is always there for the taking. I'll see if the other girl has a boyfriend or something; if she does, then we have a solid prospect for your knife- holder.'

Orm watched Rand's brows furrow as he thought the situation over. 'Does the girl lodge in the tavern?' he asked.

Orm shook his head. 'I don't think so; the other girls have said something about her being 'too good' to sleep on the floor with them when the tavern closes. And once in a while she'll try a street-corner. For that matter, maybe there's a way to lure her somewhere of your choosing by making her think someone's taken an interest in her as a singer.'

And those should be obvious solutions,Orm thought with disgust.He ought to be able to reason that out for himself. Orm had his own reasons for steering the selection