striking the gawkers while they still got their purses full.'
'We should be leaving town, that's what we should be doing, not sitting 'ere boozing,' Corrick growled. 'Therin's still got time to turn on us all.'
Pinch raised a sharp eyebrow at that. Therm had been his choice as lieutenant. With a snake's speed, the master thief shot out a hand, seized Corrick by a ragged collar, and jerked the old man closer, till their faces were practically cheek to cheek. 'Tell me, Gran',' he hissed, 'who's the upright man here, you or me?' Even as Pinch asked, one hand slipped to the dagger in his boot.
Ancient Corrick wormed in the grasp, his eyes flickering in panic as he saw the black-haired rogue's hand move south. 'You be, Pinch. No one else,' he gasped in breathless sincerity.
'That be so?' Pinch mocked as he let Corrick's dirty shirt slip from his fingers. The ancient slid his chair away from the master thief's side of the table. His own hand started to drift toward the sheath knife at his side.
'Here now-Pinch, Corrick-your cups are empty,' Sprite-Heels offered eagerly. He hopped up on his chair, dragged their tankards to the center of the table, and sloshed the last ale from the serving skin until both cups were filled to the brim. 'To Therin's memory,' he toasted, his own mug held aloft. Neither Pinch nor Corrick moved, eyes locked on each other.
'To poor, dear Therin,' Brown Maeve nervously added, clinking her mug to Sprite's.
The master thief's expression shifted into a thin smile as he lifted the mug set out for him. He held the cup there till Corrick followed suit. Still their eyes watched each other, ignoring the other two at the table. 'To Therin- would all my children be so true,' the master rogue offered. He tapped his mug to Sprite's and Maeve's.
'To Therin-may 'is tongue stay still.' With that toast Corrick broke away from his leader's gaze. The mugs clinked once more, and Sprite muttered a benedictus for them all under his breath.
Pinch leaned back and unkinked his stiff leg, the reward of a bad tumble while on a roof-breaking job. 'Therin's kept his peace till now. He'll keep his trap shut till the end,' was the master thief's confident prediction.
Composure already regained, Corrick shook his bony head, once again sputtering off the golden foam of drink. 'Knowing the 'igh lord's permanently canceled yer debts got a way of changing a man,' he counterpredicted.
'I trust Therin,' Pinch replied breezily, as if his previous displeasure were all forgotten.
'I still wish the Hellriders hadn't taken him,' Maeve pined. 'He was a good man to me. We was fixing to do up the town that night. Why, I barely shimmied down the back when they broke in the door.'
'You should get yourself a crib on the first floor,' Sprite jibed as he clambered back into his seat. 'Still it was damned quick, the way they found him right after the Firdul job.'
'Aye, it was,' Pinch agreed. 'If they hadn't caught him with the garbage, I could've gotten someone to swear in court that Therin had been out boozing with them when old Firdul was robbed.' His words dropped to a weary mutter. 'It was too quick, though. Damned queer.'
The rasp of the tavern door opening interrupted the master thief's ruminations. From the front of the taproom there was a hubbub of voices raised in alarmed surprise.
'Hellriders!'
Pinch, who always sat with his back to the corner, was the first to see the soldiers come through the door, and he quickly gave a nod of caution to the others.
There were six of them, dressed in the unmistakable leather armor of the lord's men. The metal studs that pierced the red leather glittered with brilliant polish. Their scimitars clinked against the steel points as the troop swaggered in. They went from table to booth, brusquely grabbing each customer for a hard scrutiny. Pinch recognized in their midst the stocky build of Troop Commander Wilmarq, an arrogant bastard of an officer. Wilmarq made a business of extorting money from fellows like Pinch, only to arrest them whenever there was a chance for a promotion. His only grace was his greed. Pinch barely held back his wince, knowing the bor-sholder was probably looking for them.
'Stow all your bilge and drink sad. We're mourning Therin, clear?' Pinch hissed to the others as he snatched up his mug and put it to his lips.
'Here's to poor Therin,' Sprite, always quick to follow his master's lead, said loudly.
'May he have a clean drop,' Pinch added, seconding another round of toasts. He purposely turned away from the approaching guardsmen.
Before the toast could be downed, a gloved hand clapped hard on the lead rogue's shoulder. 'Master Pinch,' sliced the nasal voice of Wilmarq. 'Not at the hanging? I was certain you'd be there.' The officer casually took the wineskin from the table. 'You're dry,' he said sadly, shaking the empty sack. 'More drink, innkeep, and mugs for my men. I'm sure our friend can pay.'
As Gurin hurried over, Pinch shrugged the hand off his shoulder and turned his chair to face Wilmarq. 'It's a sad day for some of us, Hellrider.' His words were a monotone.
'Losing one of your gang is always a cause for sorrow, eh?' Wilmarq sneered as he held his tankard out for the hostler to fill. 'Seems like a good day to me.'
'Do you have business with us?' Pinch demanded. 'If not, you're making the place smell like an unclean stable.'
Wilmarq reddened and his nasal voice reached a higher whine. 'I could arrest you for that lifting job on Crossmarket Lane last night! Some pretty parcels went missing.'
'And I'd stand before the court with a score of witnesses swearing I was here last night, boozed in my sorrow,' Pinch countered. 'Go ahead, make yourself the fool, Wilmarq. Maybe they snipped your wits, too, when they made you a horse-loving eunuch.'
'Horse-loving eu — ? Damn you, you poxy bastard!' the Hellrider blustered. The officer's body trembled so violently that the metal studs of his armor clattered out his rage. Behind him, his men grinned at their commander's humiliation. 'I got your Therin, and I'll get the lot of you yet!' Wilmarq finally snarled.
With a polished boot, he kicked the leg of Pinch's chair, snapping the flimsy wood. The thief sprang from his seat just before it clattered to the floor. He landed in a half-crouch, fingers trembling eagerly to hold a blade. At another time Pinch would have gutted the Hellrider without a thought. With the officer backed by his men, now was not that time. The drunken crowd was suddenly alive as bleary eyes watched the confrontation. Hands reached for heavy mugs, blades scraped softly from scabbards, and Gurin suddenly became interested in putting away his battered plate. The troopers backing Wilmarq stiffened.
Pinch calmly straightened as the situation's tenor became clear to all but Wilmarq. 'Some counsel, Commander,' the thief finally offered. 'Never hit a man in his own house.' Only then did the Hellrider see what his men had noted — little Sprite-Heels fondling his dagger as he crouched beneath the table, Maeve idly tracing out a mystic rune on the damp wood, even Corrick warming a dirk in the candle-flame.
Wilmarq sneered, wheeled about, and pushed through his as they backed their way toward the door. ' 'Lo, they bravely rode into battle,'' caterwauled a lusty voice in the crowd, singing the opening verse of a popular song. The shoddy tavern shuddered with the howl of laughter that rose from the crowd, a humor that only the Hellriders did not share. Within moments a hodge-podge chorus played the bard to serenade the fleeing patrol.
'Thank your gods for making Wilmarq an ass,' Pinch chortled as he pulled up another chair.
Corrick looked up from wiping the soot off his blade and fixed a glaring eye on his boss. 'Maybe, but 'e caught Therin on the double-quick.'
'And word is Wilmarq'll get promoted for it,' Sprite added as he scrambled out from under table. 'Maybe Therin was good for something, after all.'
'It ain't right,' Maeve moaned as she plopped drunkenly into her chair. She made a clumsy kick at Sprite. 'He gets a promotion and Therin hangs. It ain't right!'
'Not right indeed — tracking him down to your own house, Maeve,' Pinch mused as he leaned back in the chair. His fingers flexed just under his chin. Sprite, Corrick, and Maeve waited and watched, knowing their leader's scheming moods.
Suddenly Pinch's thoughtful visage brightened. 'Two with one stone. That's it! Two with one stone.' He sat forward and pulled the others in close. 'We're going to humiliate Wilmarq by springing Therin from the very branches of the triple tree.'
'Off the gallows?' gulped Sprite, sputtering his ale.
'Yer mad!' Corrick bellowed.
Only Maeve kept silent, fuzzily pondering the possibilities.
