whom.”
Fullmer reacted as if Covington had asked him to pull down his pants and dance a jig. “But I can’t do that!”
“Which means you’re lying, and you’re just trying to convince me.
“No, it’s true. I’m not lying.” The wine merchant was suddenly desperate. “Please, Pryce, be reasonable. You have to understand that I’ve been finessing this operation for months. Ever since I heard the rumor that the workshop might be up for grabs, I’ve been following leads, creating a network of informants, investigating every dead end-“
“It seems, however, that now you’ve found a right-of-way. Come on, Teddington, give. I need to know as much as you do more! that Blade’s rite will not be wronged.”
Fullmer was dead white and sweating profusely in the gloom of the grotto. “Pryce, if you only knew, you wouldn’t ask such a thing!”
Covington was tempted to leap upon the man and use his stomach as a springboard until he talked. He resisted and just kept to the course. But the closer he thought he was getting, the more the chase seemed like trying to grab a pollandry seed out of midair. It just kept shooting out of his closing fingers. “But I don’t know, Teddington, and I need to know if I’m going to be convincing.”
The trader was shaken, but he nodded with agitation, his chin and lip hair bobbing. “All right. You’re right, of course. If we are to share in the wealth, then we must share in the danger as well.”
At the time, Pryce thought Fullmer was saying that he would share Pryce’s danger. Only later did Covington realize that the trader was actually revealing that he was willing to let Pryce share Teddington’s jeopardy.
“I need to take care of some things,” Fullmer said, distracted. “Meet me this evening behind the restaurant, in the little clearing among the rocks where the deliveries take place. I’ll have all the information you need then.”
‘Tell me now,” Pryce insisted.
“I can’t!”
‘You don’t think I know what will happen tonight?” Covington exploded. “Either you won’t show, or you will… with some very big friends!”
“Pryce, upon my honor”
“For what that’s worth!”
To Pryce’s surprise, the trader swelled up to his fullest height and widest width. “You tell me honestly, Pryce, in all our dealings, and in all the dealings you ever heard I was involved in, has my promise ever been anything but reliable? You think carefully and answer me, Covington. Have I ever cheated on a bet or broken a promise?”
Pryce did think, then felt slightly ashamed. “You make precious few promises, Teddington, but the ones you do make are not broken,” he conceded grudgingly. “I’m sorry I besmirched your reputation.”
The trader stood and carefully brushed off his clothing. “With all the other stains upon my character,” he said with remarkable candor, “your smudge is hardly noticeable.” He nodded. “Tonight then.” He named a specific time. “I promise, tonight you will know all that I know.”
Then, as elegantly as he could, Fullmer made his way up the ladder and disappeared through the trapdoor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next few hours were the longest of Pryce Covington’s life. He was tempted to use the time exploring the grotto or returning to the Ambersong residence for a nap, but he knew he would have a very hard time exploring or sleeping with the weight of this investigation on his head.
So, instead, he waited a few minutes after Fullmer’s departure, then slowly climbed the ladder out of the grotto. He tried to analyze any new information as he went, but the many “whys” he asked himself were answered only by “huh?” or “what do you mean?” or “I’m not sure I follow that.”
When Pryce emerged from the trapdoor into the eating and drinking establishment, he found himself beside a thick leg attached to the rest of Azzoparde Schreders’s burly body. The proprietor smiled down at him and offered a hand. “Get what you want, Master Blade? Eh, eh?” the friendly barkeep boomed as he lifted Pryce easily from the opening.
“Not yet,” Pryce said, dusting himself off, “but I’m working on it”
It was late afternoon, and the crowd was sparse. Pryce looked over the bar to see Berridge Lymwich sitting at a distant table near the door, staring at him from over a glass. But instead of giving him a suspicious look, she had formed her thin lips into a knowing smile. Silently she raised her glass to him.
With one hand, Pryce reached down, took an empty tankard from a holder under the bar, and raised it sardonically to Lymwich in return. As he put it back, he used his other arm to nudge Azzo. The proprietor turned his solid bulk toward Covington with a low, rumbling “Hmmm?”
“Isn’t Inquisitrix Lymwich on duty?” he inquired lightly, nodding toward her. Schreders looked over at the thin woman, who was no longer looking in their direction. Instead, she was looking out the front windows at the splendid Lallor afternoon.
Azzo shrugged. “She often comes in after the lunch rush.” He smiled at Pryce. “Even inquisitrixes have to eat sometime. Eh, eh?”
Covington was distracted by the passing of Sheyrhen Karkober. He watched her saunter across the floor, then turn to wink at him. Then she placed a bill of fare on a table where the gaunt figure of Asche Hartov sat.
Well, well, well, Pryce thought. All the suspects in easy proximity, perhaps to overhear what Fullmer and I had to say to each other. The shapely serving wench and the lean mine owner spoke to each other for a few moments, then the beautiful blonde waitress walked back to the bar.
Pryce thought she was going to give Azzo the visiting miner’s payment, but instead she leaned both elbows on the bar, bent forward to expose a generous portion of cleavage and said, “Mr. Hartov wanted me to say hello to you, Darling.”
Pryce cocked his head to one side and was about to inquire whether the “Darling” came from Asche or her, but the waitress had already gone about her business. Meanwhile, however, Covington noticed that Azzo had raised his head and was giving his serving wench a strange look… an expression Pryce felt himself mirroring when he saw Dearlyn Ambersong come through the front door, carrying a large book from Geerling’s library.
Pryce realized it was later than he thought. They had arranged to meet even before Wotfirr had shown up at the Ambersong residence earlier in the day. Covington quickly and expertly vaulted over the bar, swinging his legs to the side like a gymnast, and landed on the floor just as Dearlyn reached him. She was obviously more impressed with this than she had been by his cartwheels to escape her magically powered bed.
“Did you find out anything?” she asked quietly, her beautiful eyes darting from side to side. He placed a hand on her arm and moved her casually toward a table near the opposite wall.
“Not yet,” he replied tightly, annoyed that he couldn’t tell her everything without revealing his true identity. “Fullmer and I have a rendezvous later tonight, when I hope to learn something.” He pulled out a chair for her, then quickly sat opposite. “Have you seen Gheevy?”
“Yes,” she replied. “He came directly from here to our residence, and he was terribly upset. He thought he had failed you.”
Pryce quickly shook his head, deciding to concentrate on the problem at hand. “He did his best, poor fellow,” Covington quickly assured her, then let the rest of his instructions come out in a hushed rush as he leaned toward her. “Go back and keep him company. I can’t risk trying to follow Fullmer, and I think I should remain in a public place until our meeting.”
She placed her hands on his. He stared at them, then looked up at her. Her gaze was earnest. “You’re the only connection I have to my father now,” she said. “Please be careful.”
This was too much. Emotions of paternal tenderness rushed up in Pryce’s brain, but in order to stay in control, he fought them back. His feelings for her were countered by the knowledge of what he had already done
