“How did you know what I’d want?” Pantros asked.
“We only serve one thing,” the man said. “That’ll be six tramps.”
“Tramp?” Pantros asked.
“Not from around here?” The barkeep asked, more commenting than seeking an answer. “Ignean from the accent, I’d guess. You’re not a sailor, though, no rope calluses and not enough sun in your skin. Tramps are the local bronze coin, but let’s not worry about that right now.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve got a wager for you,” the man said. “If I can guess what you do for a living, you give me two silver coins; if I can’t, you drink for free.”
“I don’t think you’ve got a chance in this one,” Pantros said. “I’ll take the wager.” He set two silver coins on the counter.
“Give me a minute,” the barkeep said. He walked out from behind the bar and studied Pantros from his hair to the soles of his shoes. “Well, that was too easy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this is where I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“Pardon me?” Pantros said.
“You are Pantros?” The barkeep said.
Sure he’d see a familiar face; Pantros looked around the taproom again. None of the faces seemed familiar. None of them were even looking at him as if they were in on the gag. “How would you know that?”
The man nodded and smiled. “First, your clothing is silk. Now, I know that silk is much cheaper in Ignea, being a middle port in the oceanic trade, but even so, most sailors would choose something more rugged that they wouldn’t mind soiling in their work. Merchants and Innkeepers tend to dress not too far above their clientele. These folks would own silk but rarely wear it other than small social functions and you’re here alone, in public. Your shirt is also just slightly worn, showing that you wear it often. It’s also dark in color and tight fitting. It’s actually tailored just for you.”
Pantros didn’t even tell his sister that he had his clothing custom made and the barkeep not only could discern that but Pantros was sure the man was about to tell him why.
“Tight fitting clothes don’t get caught on things like splinters, loose nails or guards’ hands,” The barkeep continued. “Dark means you’re harder to see. Most men in silks wear layers and if they do wear a dark color it is only under a brighter color. Men with wealth want it to be noticed, but you, like most of my customers, do not want to be noticed.”
Again, looking over the taproom, Pantros noticed that every other customer wore dark, tight clothing except for a woman sitting by herself, drinking a glass of wine and wearing a bright green cloak with the hood pulled forward just enough to hide her face above her lips.
“I’m in a thieves’ den?” Pantros asked.
“I figured you came here on purpose,” The man said. “My name is Able. I am the Guildmaster for the Guild.”
“The Thieves’ Guild?” Pantros asked.
“In Fork, we just call it the Guild. We are so much more than a gang of thieves. We never gave it a more specific name.” Able shrugged. “We never had to. It’s just the Guild. I am also Mayor of the city, though I delegate most of that work to a bunch of bureaucrats in the city offices by the palace. Don’t think of the Guild as a group of thieves, think of it as the city’s governing force, with an odd way of enforcing tax collection.”
“And because I’m competition I have to leave this taproom?” Pantros asked. He could understand some distrust, but surely they’d understand there was nothing for him to steal in such a place.
“Because you’re potential competition, you have to leave the city,” Able said. “We have very strict rules, and since we run the town, those rules are like laws, and there is no place for you here.”
“I couldn’t join your Guild?” Pantros asked.
“You’d have to pass a test, and if your reputation is remotely accurate, any test I could give you that would provide any challenge would be like stealing the ruby from the king’s crown.” Able took the two silver and slid them back to Pantros. “You’re too talented for our very strict rules. You’d never be able to pad your pockets like you could in other cities by those rules. You don’t want to be here.”
“It’s not that you don’t want me around personally, but if anything gets stolen outside of your rules, you want one less suspect?” Pantros guessed. He couldn’t imagine why else someone so polite would be inhospitable.
“That and if I let you in the guild, your god-like reputation would undermine my authority,” Able said. “You can stay for a couple days, but don’t take up residence here, please.”
“I have one question before I go,” Pantros said. “The woman in the green cloak, where did she get wine when all you serve is the one kind of beer?”
“She’s exactly the person you don’t want to be curious about,” Able said. “Let’s just say she holds enough sway in this town that I keep a case of a particular vintage on hand just for her and that she drinks for free. She usually drinks alone and when she does drink with someone else, it bodes ill for someone. If you’ve not heard of the Green Death, you have now.”
Pantros recalled a story somewhere in Sheillene’s repertoire about a killer-for-hire who wore a green velvet cloak. The story ended badly for several of its characters. He decided it would be a good time to leave The Three Diamonds. “I’ll see myself out then.” He didn’t feel he’d been threatened, but being in the presence of such a legendary monster and having antagonized the Guild just by his existence, his plan was to leave town as soon as possible.
Approaching the Rampant Gelding, he was reminded why he’d left. The music was hypnotizing and Pantros didn’t like the time he’d lost his awareness to Sheillene’s music. The music was fine, just not something he was in the mood for. He only had a limited time in Fork, so he decided he’d learn as much about it as he could.
Three hours of walking along thoroughfares and peering into the taproom of one tavern after another led Pantros to the part of the city he was most curious about: The Pit. Though it was long after sunset, the sounds of haggling filled the dense air. His senses had cleared and he wouldn’t be making the mistake again of missing details like he had at the Three Diamonds.
Around The Pit, he noticed dozens of children selling ribbons like the one David had given him. He also noticed that the rare person who walked past a ribbon seller without a ribbon on their purse, would, within a few paces, have a small hand dart in and out of their purse.
The rumors that anything and everything was for sale in the pit appeared to be true. He’d passed by people selling everything from dried meat to a small caged dragon. The dragon’s price was dozens of times the price Pantros had paid for his stewardship.
When he passed by the display case of a jeweler, what he saw brought him to a stop. Inside the case was a pair of royal crowns with a sign saying, “Jeweler to the Kings.” A woman behind the case was sketching on a small easel.
“Are these the current king and queen’s crowns?” Pantros asked.
“They’re the mock-ups I made before the final version. The gold is just plated and the gems are glass in case you’re thinking they’re worth what they appear to be worth. Not worth stealing at all.” The woman said.
“Does everyone know how to spot a thief in this town?” Pantros asked.
“The Guild trains the merchants,” The woman said. “We’re offered a nice reward to turn in non-guild thieves.”
“You can tell I’m not Guild?” he asked.
“Only because you asked a question every Guild thief wouldn’t need to ask,” the woman said.
“I’m not here to steal anything,” Pantros said. “I’m actually thinking of buying something.” He hadn’t been thinking it long. But a plan was formulating in his head and, though he considered it a bad idea, decided to see how far he could take it before it presented any actual risk. “Would you be able to cut another piece of glass like the one on top of the King’s crown you have here?”
The woman nodded. “It would take me a few hours.”
“So if you sold me the one that’s there, you’d be able to replace it without too much effort?” Pantros asked.
“Probably, but don’t think that doesn’t mean it will be cheap,” The woman said. “I’ve been trained by both
