then would have been asking for trouble. There weren’t many people about, there was no way to approach him without being noticed; all we could do was wait for a convenient moment.
“Are you sure he’s drunk two jugs of wine?” I hissed, keeping my eyes on the stranger.
“Why?” Bass hissed back.
“He’s walking very steadily. Not at all like a drunk.”
“There are different kinds of drunks,” Bass disagreed. “You could never tell if my old dad was drunk or not, until he picked up a log and started chasing after my mother.”
Meanwhile the man was wandering through the winding streets of the Suburbs without any obvious goal, like a hare circling through the forest to confuse his tracks. We kept our distance and tried not to let him see us until he reached the Market Square. There were plenty of people there, and it was quite easy for us to move up close behind him.
I gave Bass a quick nod, and he darted off to one side.
I tried to breathe through my nose, match the rhythm of the man’s steps, and stop trembling with nerves. My fingers were chilly and not as nimble as usual. I would never have taken the risk if the man hadn’t had three gold pieces in his pocket.
Someone pushed me in the back and for a second I found myself almost pressed up against the man, so I accepted this gift from the gods and lowered my hand into his pocket. I felt the purse immediately, and grabbed it, preparing to scram, but just at that moment the stranger grabbed hold of my hand. “Got you, you little thief!” he hissed.
I gave a shrill squeal and tried to break free, but the man was a lot stronger than me, and my hand didn’t even shift in the grasp of his bearlike paw. The thought flashed through my mind that I was in for really big trouble now.
Bass came dashing up out of nowhere and gave the big lunk a smart kick on the leg. He howled and let go of me.
“Let’s get out of here!” Bass shouted, and legged it.
Without bothering to think, I followed him, clutching the purse. I could hear the furious guy dashing after us.
“Thieves!” he yelled. “Stop those thieves!”
We wormed our way through the crowd and dashed out of Market Square onto a narrow little street. But that damn lunk was right there behind us all the way.
It was hard to run, the fur coat kept getting tangled round my legs, and the tramping feet of our pursuer kept getting closer and closer. Bass was showing me a clean pair of heels and the distance between us was gradually increasing. I groaned in disappointment: I would have to abandon the fur coat that I had acquired with such a great effort. I stuck the purse in my teeth and started unfastening the buttons as I ran along. The warm coat slipped off my shoulders and fell into the snow. Immediately it was much easier to run—I strode out and caught up with Bass.
“Into the alley,” I shouted to him, and turned sharply to the right.
Bass followed me, and our pursuer, who was just about to grab me by the collar, went flying on past. Now we had at least a chance to disappear in the labyrinth of the Suburbs’ winding side streets.
“Oh, he’ll wring our necks!” Bass panted with an effort.
I didn’t answer and just speeded up even more, hoping very much that my friend’s prediction would not come true. We turned another corner, hearing the man threaten to pull our arms off. I was almost exhausted, but the cursed stranger didn’t seem to know what it meant to get tired.
Suddenly a pair of hands appeared out of some hidey-hole, grabbed Bass and me by the scruff of our necks, and dragged us into a dark, narrow space. Bass yelled out in fright and started flailing at the air with his hands, and I followed my friend’s example, trying to break free and give whoever had grabbed us a kick.
“Better shut up, if you want to live!” someone whispered. “Keep quiet!”
There was something about his voice that made us fall silent immediately.
Our pursuer went hurtling past, stamping his feet and setting the alley ringing with choice obscenities.
The man who had saved us still didn’t release his grip, he was listening to the silence, and I tried to take advantage of the moment to put the purse with the gold pieces away in my pocket.
“No need to bother,” said the stranger. “I don’t steal from pickpockets.”
“I’m not a pickpocket!” I protested, my teeth chattering from the cold. I was feeling the loss of the fur coat.
“Not a pickpocket? Then who are you?” asked the man who had rescued us.
“I’m a genuine thief!”
“A thie-ef! Well, well. I swear by Sagot that you might just become a good thief, with my help. Or you might not, kid. Let me have a look at what I’ve caught today.”
The man opened his hands, walked out into the light, and inspected Bass and me closely.
“Well then, who are you?” the stranger asked.
“I’m Bass the Snoop,” Bass said with a sniff.
“I’m Harold the Flea,” I answered, studying our unlikely rescuer.
“Well now,” the man said with a smile. “And I’m For. Sticky Hands For.”
* * * “Harold, do you know this goon?” Hallas asked, rousing me from my reminiscences.
“Yes, he’s an old … friend of mine,” I muttered.
“Very old,” Bass said with a smile. “Glad to see you alive and well, Harold!”
“Likewise,” I said in a none-too-friendly voice.
“How’s For?” Bass asked, apparently not noticing my cool tone.
“Alive, by Sagot’s will.”
“Is he still instructing the young?” Bass asked with a smile.
“No, he’s a priest now. Sagot’s Defender of the Hands.”
Bass whistled.
“Listen, Harold,” said the gnome, whose patience had run out. “Maybe you and your friend could talk some other time? Thank you very much for the help, kind sir, but we have to be going.”
“Deler,” I said to the dwarf. “Give him his money back.”
Amazingly enough, the dwarf delved into his purse and handed Bass three silver pieces.
“Hey!” Bass cried indignantly. “I don’t want your coins. I was just helping a friend!”
“Everyone can always find a use for coins,” I said. “Keep well. Ah yes, if you’re interested, Markun is no longer in this world.”
“And is that all?” he said, spreading his arms wide in protest. “Aren’t you even going to talk to me? Are you just going to walk away when we haven’t seen each other for more than ten years?”
“No time, my friend,” I said curtly.
“How can I find you, Harold?” Bass shouted after me.
“I don’t think we’ll meet again,” I said, looking round at him. “I’m only passing through. I’ll be leaving the city soon.”
And so saying, I turned away and hurried after Hallas. Kli-Kli couldn’t resist asking: “Was that a friend of yours?”
“Yes … That is, no … maybe.”
“Brrrrr,” said the jester, shaking his head. “Is that yes or no? Make up your mind.”
“Leave him alone, Kli-Kli,” Eel advised the goblin.
“What have I done?” Kli-Kli asked with a shrug. “I only asked. Listen, Harold, are you so elegantly polite and considerate with everyone, or just the chosen few? I’m just asking to bear it in mind for the future, so I won’t be too surprised when you tell me to get lost in such frank and charming manner when we meet.”
