done.'
'What?' she cried.
'Now, don't glare like that. We signed on to get your mysterious saddlebag to Oeble, and we did. We fulfilled the letter of the contract.'
She laughed and replied, 'Do you honestly expect me to see it that way, and meekly hand over the rest of your coin? I couldn't even if I were willing. I was supposed to pay you out of what our contact here was going to give me.'
The beefy warrior frowned.
'Ouch,' he said. 'That's bad news.'
'So I take it we're still in this together?'
Hostegym sat pondering for a heartbeat or two, then finally shook his head and answered, 'No, I don't think so. You know what the boys and I are good at. That's why you hired us. We understand fighting on horseback, watching for bandits and trolls in open country. We're not thief takers, and I don't think we'd fare well playing at it in a place as tricky as Oeble. Fortunately, caravans leave from here all the time, and I reckon the smart way for us to make more coin is to take another job as guards. Come with us if you like. We'd be glad to have you.'
She glared at him and said, 'You miserable, treacherous coward…'
'Call me all the names you like. It won't change anything. The fact is, the 'item' is lost because you made a mistake. When the thieves were on the steps, you could have shot the fellow with the saddlebag first, before your bowstring broke.'
He was right, of course. It had been the only sensible thing to do. Yet she hadn't, and didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was because she'd recognized that, a minute or two earlier, the bogus beggar could easily have killed her, yet had contented himself with knocking her down and kicking her. Thus, she'd felt obliged to give him one last chance to surrender.
Seeing she had no answer, Hostegym heaved himself to his feet, wincing as his bad leg took his weight.
'I guess we'll stay here at the inn until we land another job,' he said. 'If you see reason, come find us.'
He nodded to the plump man, then limped out the door.
'Does this change your mind?' the functionary asked.
'No,' Miri said. 'In my guildhouse, they teach us to honor our commitments. I'll recover the item by myself.'
'Do you have any idea how?'
'Well, at least I got a look at the thief.' The wretch had been lean and fit, with green eyes and keen, intelligent features. Given his agility, she assumed the sores on his legs were fake. Perhaps his goatee was, also. 'But beyond that…'
She shrugged.
'Well, I know my master will want me to give you all the help I can,' the functionary said. 'Unfortunately, we don't have many contacts among the gangs and other outlaws. No matter what outsiders may believe, Oeble does have some citizens who don't work hand-in-glove with the robbers and smugglers. But at the very least, I can provide some general information.'
Miri nodded and said, 'Tell me.'
CHAPTER 2
Aeron skulked up the twisting stairs with the saddlebag tucked under one arm, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be lurking there. The risers, a number of which were soft with dry rot or broken outright, would have creaked and groaned beneath most people's feet, but were silent under his. He knew where and how to step.
As usual, he reached his own door without incident. Considering that his father was a cripple, some might think it ridiculous that after all those years they still lived on the uppermost floor of a dilapidated tower. But it was marginally safer. The average housebreaker wouldn't climb so high just to break into such humble lodgings. And in any case, Nicos sar Randal refused to move. He liked the view.
In fact, once Aeron stepped inside the small, sparsely furnished room, locking and barring the door behind himself with reflexive caution, he saw that his father was enjoying the vista even then. The older man sprawled in a chair on the sagging balcony with its broken railing, looking out over the River Scelptar. The sunset stained the water red and burnished the three bridges arching over the flow. The floods carried the spans away every spring, and Oeble rebuilt them every summer. At the moment, they were likely the only spanking new structures in all the ancient city.
Nicos was gaunt, and no longer young, but younger than his frailty made him appear. His scars, the creases on his face and skinny limbs and the noose-mark around his neck, looked as purple as plums in the failing light
'Come watch the sun go down,' he rasped.
Once upon a time, he'd possessed a voice as rich as a bard's, but the rope had taken it.
'In a minute,' Aeron replied.
Glum as he felt, he would have preferred solitude, but didn't have the heart to say so. He peeled off his beggar's rags, tossed them on the floor, poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the cracked bowl, and scrubbed the bogus sores off his legs and the brown dye from his coppery hair, eyebrows, and beard. That accomplished, he pulled on one of the slate-gray borato shirts he favored, found a bottle of white wine in the little wrought iron rack, and carried it and the saddlebag out onto the balcony.
He opened the sour vintage with a corkscrew, and he and his father passed the green glass container back and forth until the scarlet rim of the sun cut the hills to the west.
Nicos said, 'What's wrong?'
'What makes you think anything's wrong?'
'I know you, don't I? I can read it in your face and the way you carry yourself.'
Aeron sighed. He sometimes tried to avoid telling his father about his various jobs, because it made him fret. But somehow he generally wound up confiding in him anyway.
'I stole something this afternoon.'
'I assumed you didn't buy the pouch,' Nicos replied, 'or what's inside it.'
'No. It was a complicated kind of job. I needed help, and things went awry.'
Nicos nodded somberly. Probably he was remembering times when his own thefts didn't go as planned.
'I take it one of your helpers came to grief.'
'Not one. All three. Kerridi, Gavath, and Dal.'
'Damn. I'm sorry.' Nicos took a slug of wine, then passed the bottle and asked, 'Are they dead, or did the Gray Blades take them alive?'
'I think they're all three dead.'
'Well, that's sad, but likely best for you and them both.'
'I know. It's just… I had to dry Dal out to make him fit to work. I had to buy him new powders, trinkets, and whatnot to cast his spells. I felt smug-proud of myself for being a true friend and helping him out that way. Now it turns out what I was really doing was digging his grave.'
'You can't blame yourself. He knew the risks. They all did.'
'I suppose.'
Nicos hesitated, then said, 'You needn't feel guilty, but you can learn from what happened. Rethink the path you've-'
'Please,' Aeron snapped, 'let's not argue about that all over again. I relish stealing as much as you did in your day, I'm just as good at it, and I can't think of any honest work I could do that would bring in enough to pay for all your poultices and medicines.'
Nicos spat, 'Don't put it on me. I never asked you to risk your neck just to ease my aches and pains.'
'You didn't have to.'
'Anyway, if you're such a clever thief, why did your plan turn to dung?'
'Because I dared to steal something inside the walls of the Paeraddyn, I suppose.'
Nicos blinked and said, 'You're joking.'
