a dagger throw before he ever got outside.
'Not my family,' the man begged, turning back and walking toward Entreri, his hands out wide, palms open. 'And not here.'
'You know why I have come?' the assassin asked.
The woman began to cry, muttering for mercy, but her husband grabbed her gently but firmly and pulled her back, angling her for the children's room, then pushing her along.
'It was not my fault,' the man said quietly when she was gone. 'I begged Kadran Gordeon. I told him that I would somehow find the money.'
The old Artemis Entreri would not have been intrigued at that point. The old Artemis Entreri would never even have
listened to the words. The old Artemis Entreri would have just finished the task and walked out. But now he found that he was interested, mildly, and, as he had no other pressing business, he was in no hurry to finish.
'I will cause no trouble for you if you promise that you will not hurt my family,' the man said.
'You believe that you could me cause trouble?' Entreri asked.
The helpless, pitiful man shook his head. 'Please,' he begged. 'I only wished to show them a better life. I agreed to, even welcomed, the job of moving money from Docker's Street to the drop only because in those easy tasks I earned more than a month of labor can bring me in honest work.'
Entreri had heard it all before, of course. So many times, fools-camels, they were called-joined into a guild, performing delivery tasks for what seemed to the simple peasants huge amounts of money. The guilds only hired the camels so that rival guilds would not know who was transporting the money. Eventually, though, the other guilds would figure out the routes and the camels, and would steal the shipment. Then the poor camels, if they survived the ambush, would be quickly eliminated by the guild that had hired them.
'You understood the danger of the company you kept,' Entreri remarked.
The man nodded. 'Only a few deliveries,' he replied. 'Only a few, and then I would quit.'
Entreri laughed and shook his head, considering the fool's absurd plan. One could not «quit» as a camel. Anyone accepting the position would immediately learn too much to ever be allowed out of the guild. There were only two possibilities: first, that the camel would perform well enough and be lucky enough to earn a higher, more permanent position within the guild structure, and second, that the man or woman (for women were often used) would be slain in a raid or subsequently killed by the hiring guild.
'I beg of you, do not do it here,' the man said at length. 'Not where my wife will hear my last cries, not where my sons will find me dead.'
Bitter bile found its way into the back of Entreri's throat. Never had he been so disgusted, never had he seen a more pitiful human being. He looked around again at the hovel, the rags posing as doors, as walls. There was a single plate, probably used for eating by the entire family, sitting on the single old bench in the room.
'How much do you owe?' he asked, and though he could hardly believe the words as he spoke them, he knew that he would not be able to bring himself to kill this wretch.
The man looked at him curiously. 'A king's treasure,' he said. 'Near to thirty gold pieces.'
Entreri nodded, then pulled a pouch from his belt, this one hidden around the back under his dark cloak. He felt the weight as he pulled it free and knew that it held at least fifty gold pieces, but he tossed it to the man anyway.
The stunned man caught it and stared at it so intently that Entreri feared his eyeballs would simply fall out of their sockets. Then he looked back to the assassin, his
emotions too twisted and turned about for him to have any revealing expression at all on his face.
'On your word that you will not deal with any guilds again once your debt is paid,' Entreri said. Tour wife and children deserve better.'
The man started to reply, then fell to his knees and started to bow before his savior. Entreri turned about and swept angrily from the hovel, out into the dirty street.
He heard the man's calls following him, cries of thanks and mercy. In truth, and Entreri knew it, there had been no mercy in his actions. He cared nothing for the man or his ugly wife and undoubtedly ugly children. But still he could not kill this pitiful wretch, though he figured he would probably be doing the man a great service if he did put him out of his obvious misery. No, Entreri would not give Kadran Gordeon the satisfaction of putting him through such a dishonorable murder. A camel like this should be work for first year guild members, twelve-year- olds, perhaps, and for Kadran to give such an assignment to one of Entreri's reputation was surely a tremendous insult.
He would not play along.
He stormed down the street to his room at the inn where he collected all his things and set out at once, finally coming to the door of the Copper Ante. He had thought to merely press in, for no better reason than to show Dwahvel how ridiculous her threat to shut him out had been. But then he reconsidered and turned away, in no mood for any dealings with Dwahvel, in no mood for any dealings with anybody.
He found a small, nondescript tavern across town and took a room. Likely he was on the grounds of another guild, and if they found out who he was and who he was affiliated with there might be trouble.
He didn't care.
A day slipped by unremarkably, but that did little to put Entreri at ease. Much was happening, he knew, and all of it in quiet shadows. He had the wherewithal and understanding of those shadows to go out and discern much, but he hadn't the ambition to do so. He was in a mood to simply let things fall as they might.
He went down to the common room of the little inn that second night, taking his meal to an empty corner, eating alone and hearing nothing of the several conversations going on about the place. He did note the entrance of one character, though, a halfling, and the little folk were not common in this region of the city. Soon enough the halfling found him, taking a seat on the long bench opposite the table from the assassin.
'Good evening to you, fine sir,' the little one said. 'And how do you find your meal?'
Entreri studied the halfling, understanding that this one held no interest at all in his food. He looked for a weapon on the halfling, though he doubted that Dwahvel would ever be so bold as to move against him.
'Might I taste it?' the halfling said rather loudly, coming forward over the table.
Entreri, picking up the cues, held a spoon of the gruel up but did not extend his arm, allowing the halfling to
inconspicuously move even closer.
'I've come from Dwahvel,' the little one said as he moved in. 'The Basadoni Guild seeks you, and they are in a foul mood. They know where you are and have received permission from the Rakers to come and collect you. Expect them this very night.' The halfling took the bite as he finished, then moved back across the table, rubbing his belly.
'Tell Dwahvel that now I am in her debt,' Entreri remarked. The little one, with a slight nod, moved back across the room and ordered a bowl of gruel. He took up a conversation with the innkeeper while he was waiting for it and ate it right at the bar, leaving Entreri to his thoughts.
He could flee, the assassin realized, but his heart was not in such a course. No, he decided, let them come and let this be done. He didn't think they meant to kill him in any case. He finished his meal and went back to his room to consider his options. First, he pulled a board from the inner wall, and in the cubby space between that and the outer wall, reaching down to a beam well below the floor in his room, he placed his fabulous jeweled dagger and many of his coins. Then he carefully replaced the board and replaced the dagger on his belt with another from his pack, one that somewhat resembled his signature dagger but without the powerful enchantment. Then, more for appearances than as any deterrent, he wired a basic dart trap about his door and moved across the room, settling into the one chair in the place. He took out some dice and began throwing them on the small night table beside the chair, making up games and passing the hours.
It was late indeed when he heard the first footsteps coming up the stairs-a man obviously trying to be stealthy but making more noise than the skilled Entreri would make even if he were walking normally. Entreri listened more carefully as the walking ceased, and he caught the scrape of a thin slice of metal moving about the crack between the door and the jamb. A fairly skilled thief could get through his impromptu trap in a matter of a couple of minutes, he knew, so he put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall.
All the noise stopped, a long and uncomfortable silence.
Entreri sniffed the air; something was burning. For a moment, he thought they might be razing the building
