the streets were likely to be crowded. That could cause a panic among beasts, livestock and humans, and one did have a responsibility about such things, after all.
It was only after a few moments that he realised a pair of humans were staring at him, most uncouthly. He did not like being the object of their idle curiosity. These men looked particularly unsavoury, wearing the garb of one of the barbarian hill-tribes.
“Be off with you,” he shouted, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword for emphasis. They glared at him almost defiantly for a moment before scooting into the mouth of an alley. It was funny but he could have sworn there was something like hatred in their eyes. There was something about the pattern of the plaid cloaks and headscarves they wore that nagged at him. It took only a few moments for him to realise what it was. They were of the same colour and design as those worn by many of the hill-men he had fought against so recently.
What were they doing here in town now, he wondered?
Chapter Twenty-One
Rik walked back into the brothel. Weasel and the Barbarian were still there, feet on the table, wine bottles in front of them. The Barbarian had a plump wench on his knee and was whispering something in her ear. Weasel played patience with a pack of cards. His knife lay unsheathed on the table in front of him, stuck in a massive wedge of cheese.
“Glad you made it back, Halfbreed” he said. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Anything come up?” Rik asked.
“One or two things. We need to have a little chat. Girl, go get us all something to drink, would you?” He tossed Rena another coin. Rik half expected her to protest, but it was obvious she was used to this behaviour and probably a lot worse from the men who frequented the house. As she departed, Weasel took Rik aside, ignoring Leon’s sharp look.
“I have a meeting with Bertragh set up for this evening,” he said. “He wants to see the books.”
“They are back at the camp.”
“We can use a sample.” Weasel considered for a moment. “I want you there. You know about these things. You can tell how serious he is and what he’s likely to pay.”
“I don’t like it. What if this factor just decides to take the book? He’ll have muscle close by. They always do.”
“There’s three of us, and one of them is him,” said Weasel, pointing to the Barbarian. “We’re none of us soft touches.”
“We might still be outnumbered.”
“Then we’ll fight or we’ll give it to him, and you’ll pay him a little visit later. Depends on the numbers.”
“I am touched by your confidence but we don’t know anything about this fellow. Factor’s mansions are like fortresses. Take my word for it. They live in them. They use them as warehouses. The place would not be any less secure if one of the First lived there.”
“Maybe you should scout it out then. It’s down by the river in the warehouse district. Sign of the moon and lion. And anyway we will still have the rest of the books.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I am starting to think you don’t want to go ahead with this, Rik.”
“I want us to get our money and not our throats cut.”
“You’ll get no disagreements from me.”
“Where is the meeting?”
“Supposed to be at the mansion.”
“Change it.”
“Already tried that. The guy wants it at his house. Doesn’t want to bring money, where he doesn’t know it will be protected. Can’t say as I blame him?”
Rik tried to look at the thing from all angles. A thought struck him.
“Doesn’t matter then. Might be best to get a look inside anyway. Just in case.”
“I like that. You really think the books could be worth much?”
“They might be. All right! Tell him we’ll be there.” Rik looked at the wine bottle. Maybe it was clouding Weasel’s thinking. “Though we might well end up dead.”
“Makes life interesting,” Weasel said eventually.
“We’ve already maybe got the hill-men after us. Life is interesting enough.”
Weasel grinned. “Thing’s done. It’s too late to worry about it now.”
“It’s never too late to worry.”
“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it,” said Weasel.
“We’ve got some time to kill then.”
“That we do. Got any plans?”
“I’ll take a walk down by the river,” Rik said. “Won’t do any harm to scope things out.”
That evening, as they approached Bertragh’s mansion, Rik stopped short and began to draw his pistol.
“What is it?” Weasel asked, a knife appearing as if by magic in his hands. The Barbarian had his sword out in one swift flickering motion. They glared around them like wary wolves. The linkboy, palpably nervous, appeared to be deciding whether to make a run for it. Rik restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Thought I heard something,” Rik said. If there had been somebody there, he was gone now. Rik wished that Leon was there to watch their back-trail but this was not something he could be let in on.
They waited but nothing happened. Rik looked at the others. They seemed a little spooked. He gazed up at the mansion. It was still the same combination of warehouse, palace and fortress he had inspected earlier in the day. The factor and his people lived at the front. The warehouse opened out on the river and a side street where goods were loaded. The walls were thick and the roofline was encrusted with gargoyles. A lot of money had been spent on this old place. The sign of the Moon and Lion was illuminated by a lantern above it.
“I say we go in,” said Barbarian. “I am not scared of some wizened old merchant.”
“It’s his bodyguards I am worried about,” said Rik. “And any Terrarchs he may report us to.”
“Are you in or out, Rik? I am going in.” Weasel sounded determined.
It was obvious that whatever he said, Weasel and the Barbarian would go ahead. That being the case, he had best join them. There was no telling what nonsense the pair might get up to otherwise.
“In.”
“Good.” Weasel strode forward and banged on the side door, the trade entrance to the warehouse area, not the living quarters. It was not long before they heard footsteps approaching. A viewing slot slid aside, and eyes peered out at them.
“Who’s there?” asked a voice. It did not sound like one that belonged to a querulous old merchant.
“We’ve something for Bertragh. A book he’s interested in.”
There was a sound of locks being undone and bolts being slipped aside. A lantern showed from within. A large burly man held it. He looked and sounded local, not like a hill-man, Rik was pleased to note. Behind him were half a dozen other bruisers. A couple of them held loaded pistols. It was obvious that trust was in short supply around here, and no one was taking any chances.
“You can put the guns away, boys,” said Weasel. “We don’t want any trouble.” Suiting action to words, Weasel returned his knife to its wrist sheathe. The Barbarian and Rik only started putting back their weapons once the bodyguards did the same with theirs.
The door closed. Bolts and locks clinked into place. Trepidation surged through Rik. Even the whole company of Foragers would not be able to get through that. Not without a keg of gunpowder or a battering ram. It was too late now to do anything about it, he told himself. They were committed. The leader of the bodyguards gestured towards a distant light.
“The boss is in the counting house.” He led the way and assumed they would follow. A couple of the bodyguards fell in behind them. The others remained by the door. The warehouse area was huge, with a high
