Babeltausque whispered, “I’m starting to scare myself.” Wolf laughed but only from nerves.
Babeltausque said, “Let’s go find our operative.” Five minutes later he, Wolf, and a half-dozen Itaskian soldiers arrived outside a butcher shop. Babeltausque said, “There’s no one in there now but this is where the tracer ended up.”
“Should we go in?” the Itaskian noncom asked.
“Sure. Front and back, with someone watching the windows. Be careful. Something clever may be going on.” The sorcerer was confident that he would not find anything useful. The butcher himself would, surely, be clueless. Stil , the effort had to be made. There was no excuse for not seeing if the vil ains had not left some trivial clue that might lead to their downfal .
Babeltausque asked Wolf, “What do you know about the night the treasury monies vanished?”
“Nothing new. The movements of the principals are common knowledge, subject to hearsay distortion.” Babeltausque grumbled, “Common knowledge. They were supposed to hide the treasure in a preplanned place but didn’t because events got in the way. Then they died in the riots.”
“Al apparently true. Prataxis and Mundwil er showed up for their own funerals.”
“Nathan. A joke. How unlike you. Tel me, do you have any sense that we’re being watched?”
“Somebody must be keeping track. I would be.”
“So would I.” Babeltausque wished he owned the skil s needed to fix the vil ains.
The senior noncom cal ed, “We’re in, sirs. The place is empty except for one unhappy pig.”
Babeltausque muttered, “We’re al comics tonight.” He went to meet the pig. “Stinks in here.”
Wolf said, “Rotten meat and blood. Even the cleanest butcher shop smel s. And this one isn’t the cleanest. Hel o, pig. Wasn’t your lucky day, was it?”
The noncom cal ed, “Somebody was here in back not so long ago.”
Babeltausque joined him. “Everyone freeze. I may be able to… Wel !” His ugly face split in a huge grin. The noncom was pointing. “I should be able to guess the movements of anyone who was here during the last two hours.” He shut his eyes and tried to slip into the state that would let him read the memories of the air. He could not push past the excitement caused by the presence of that partial pail of beer.
He hoped to see that girl again. She was a tad ripe, but beggars can’t be… He had not indulged in a long time.
Oh, the potential he had seen in those big, beautiful eyes!
Oh, the wonder—after she gave up the vil ains for whom she had bought the beer!
Sigh. “Mr. Wolf, we need to leave this place. We’l touch it no more than we have already. We’l go back and concentrate on the missing treasury.” Babeltausque winked when only Wolf could see.
Nathan Wolf showed him a raised eyebrow but said nothing.
The sorcerer got heads together with the noncom managing the soldiers. He wished he could throw an arm across the man’s shoulders in comradely fashion. He did not, not because the man would be repel ed but because he was too tal . Babeltausque murmured instructions behind his hand so a clever spy could not read his lips.
The noncom nodded, indicated two men, took off.
Wolf asked, “What was that?”
“Royal charity.” He scanned the surrounding night but could not find the watcher.
...
Chames Marks eased back from the dormer vent in the attic over the apothecary shop. That man knew he was being watched. Best not tempt fate. He had shown unexpected abilities already, as a thinker and a magic user.
The sorcerer had not been distracted by the return of Colonel Gales and he had left the butcher shop looking like he had gotten a concrete lead.
Marks could not imagine what had gone wrong. He had done this his whole adult life. He did not make mistakes.
That was why he was stil alive. Minter had brought the tracker spel but he had been ready for that.
Black should be squarely in the center of the frame.
Marks took a careful look.
The party was breaking up down there.
He could hear some of their talk. They were not going to go after the butcher.
Damn! The man deserved the intimate attention of the Queen’s interrogators.
Chames backed up again. “I suppose that’s true justice. I shouldn’t be so petty.”
Forward again, to get the best last look he could. In a similar situation he might hide a man or two to see what happened after it looked like the nosies had cleared away.
No one had stayed behind.
He went downstairs. Haida was in the back room, looking shaken. She husked, “That man was looking for me, wasn’t he?”
“No. He had no reason to connect you…” His eyes widened. “What happened to the beer? What did we do with that?”
“I don’t know. I gave it to you.” Then, “It’s probably stil over in the cutting room.”
“And the sorcerer saw you buy it.” Chames sighed. “He wasn’t after you before but he wil be now. We need to get you on the road west.”
“But…”
“You knew what he was thinking when he looked at you?”
“Yes. Uncle Paget used to get that look when…”
“This one might be worse than any of your uncles. Which means you need to be somewhere that he isn’t.”
“Yes, sir.” Wearily. Resigned. “I’l get my stuff. Who should I be?”
“Bertram Blodgett. He’s your best character. Go to Errol enThal in Sedlmayr. While you turn into Bert I’l write letters of introduction in case you can’t get to Errol or someone else you know.”
Carrying a smal pack, looking like just another vagabond, the newly minted Bert slipped out the back of the apothecary shop half an hour later.
Chames Marks sat alone, contemplating a candle nearing the end of its life. Everyone else was covered. Now to cover himself.
He had tempted fate by tugging the royal beard. The stunt had snapped back in a big way.
...
Babeltausque chatted with the injured publican while tired old Dr. Wachtel tried to repair the man’s face. The sorcerer convinced the bartender, Rhys Benedit, that the explosion had not been meant to happen inside the Wrench. Those men should have taken the medal ion to their boss.
“Doctor Wachtel is the best doc in Kavelin. He’l make you right. There’l be an annuity, too, while Inger is Queen.
Mr. Wolf has already told the troops that the Wrench is the official watering hole of the garrison again.” Babeltausque inscribed strings of characters and symbols in precise cal igraphy on strips of the same heavy paper he had used to carry his tracer spel . He used five pens and five inks, sometimes including several colors in a single glyph. In addition to black he employed an intense scarlet, a dark green, a fierce yel ow, and an ink that could not be seen at al , thus leaving spaces that looked like blanks.
Dr. Wachtel said, “I’ve done everything I can for Master Benedit. From now on he’l have to depend on luck and clean healing. He’l probably lose sight in his right eye.
Unless you can do something.”
“Other than reducing the risk of infection al I can contribute is moral support. My healing skil s are limited.
Although I do have the ability to find the best medical man available.”
Wachtel gave him a brief, inscrutable look, as though unsure he had just heard that.
Babeltausque said, “Mr. Wolf, I have something for you.” He folded a paper strip. “I’m creating protective spel s to surround my space here. I expect to hear from Kristen’s gang before long. I want to be protected but I don’t want to have to drop everything whenever somebody trustworthy needs to get in. That script wil get you through the barrier spel s. Come. I need to prick your thumb and draw a drop of blood. Once that’s in the paper it won’t do
