same without spells.'
The priestess pointedly looked at the sky, unwilling to admit the soundness of his argument. Pinch sipped his tea and gave her time, but never changed his gaze of expectant answer. He had her on the hook and was not about to let her wriggle away.
'There is virtue even in the cloud that hides the sun,' she finally murmured. It was a quote from something, probably some scripture of her church. It was her admission to accept his point, her faith overruling her good instincts.
Priests always made the best prey, Pinch thought to himself. Others were unpredictable, but priests had their codes, for good or ill, giving a sharper lever to tip them one way or the other.
'What will you do with the amulet?' he asked, abruptly changing the conversation. 'It's not safe either with you or your temple.'
'I can find some place to hide it.'
Pinch shook his head in disagreement, as if he were considering the point to himself and she were not across the small table from him.
'What?'
'What was taken can be found. It's a saying among their kind.'
'You have a better plan?' she challenged as Pinch hoped she would.
'Yes, but there's no purpose in naming it.' Like the hunter in the blind, he was baiting the trap to lure the prey near.
'What do you mean?'
'There is a way you could keep it safe, but you'll not do it, so I won't say it.'
'You are so certain!' she fumed. 'How can you be so sure about me?'
'Then you will give me the amulet?'
'What?'
'See! 'Tis as I said. There's no point in pursuing it.'
'What do you mean, give you the amulet?'
'Nothing. It was a foolish idea. Hide your treasure and let it go.'
'Tell me.'
'It's pointless. It requires trust.'
'How does your having the amulet protect it?'
'First, because they'll assume you have it, not I. We've met; what other point was there but to return your treasure? Therefore, they'll look to you as the person who must be robbed.
'Second, they know my sting and fear it. Why do you think they gave it back in the first place? For five thousand gold nobles? Hardly. This treasure's worth far more, if they could sell it to some rival priest or wizard.' Pinch paused and took a sip of tea. 'They're afraid of my connections and my position. As the late king's royal ward, I could have anyone arrested and executed on my word alone. They will not cross me like they would you.'
Lissa studied her hands. 'I don't-'
'As I said-trust,' Pinch countered with disappointment. 'You injure me, which is why I would not bring this up. First, you think me a thief and wound me for it. Second, you suspect me as a liar. Another wound. Third, you think that I would refuse to give it back. Any more of these cuts and I'll take a worse beating from you than those scoundrels did to me.'
Lissa tried to sip her tea, but its bitterness felt like her soul and brought no comfort. 'Perhaps… I have been uncharitable in my judgments. I… believe you are right. Take the amulet and guard it for me.'
'No.' Now was time to set the hook.
'You won't?'
'I won't do it just to make you feel better.'
'Then do so because you're right,' she urged, pressing the amulet into his hand. 'Hold it for me until I return to Elturel in a fortnight's passing-because I will trust you.'
Pinch contemplated the amulet, feigning some doubt about the matter, before quickly slipping it away. 'For a fortnight, then.' He raised his mug as a bond of their word and smiled his first genuine smile since their meeting. A fortnight it would be, barely enough time to find a buyer and arrange for the artifact to disappear conveniently one more time. It was almost a shame to swindle one so pretty and trusting.
She matched his toast, blind to the intent of his good cheer. Hardly had the mugs clinked but Pinch was on his feet and ready to go. 'You must give me leave, Priestess Lissa, but this robe suits me poorly. I must find a tailor with a quick hand. I have no desire to return to the palace dressed as I am.' It was best to be gone quickly before she had the chance to reconsider her choice, and certainly his clothes offered the best excuse.
Their parting done, Pinch hurried down the street, into the city, and far away from the palace gates. There was still one more appointment to keep before he could begin the work Cleedis had commissioned of him.
Pinch found his company several hours later, after he'd got himself new dress. No locks were broken or heads cracked, but the Red Priests would be hard pressed to explain why one of their order was seen fleeing a laundry with a gentleman's wash.
The three had settled into the ordinary where Pinch had sent them. On the outside, it was a squalid place, just up the alley from the fishmongers' gathering place. To the south were the rat-infested docks, while the blocks just up the hill were notorious stews where man, woman, or thing could find most tawdry pleasures they sought. Here, in the gloomy zone between the two, the air reeked of seawater, fish guts, and cheap scented oils. The packed clay of the alley was slimy with fish cleaner's leavings and made musical by the chittering of rats and the belches of the resident drunks. In a way, Pinch had chosen the place for its ambiance; given the air and the locale, no honest man was likely to intrude on them.
Inside, the shop was little better. A smoky fire, sputtered by grease dripping from a questionable carcass that turned on the spit, overheated the cramped main room. This was little more than a trio of tables, scored and stained by knife fights and ale, and some rickety benches pressed up against the wall. The patrons, dock rats too hard up to visit even the meanest festhalls farther up and drunken sailors stopping in for one last toast on their way down from those same halls, eyed Pinch hungrily as he came through the canvas door. The rogue passed through their company without a word and made for the rooms upstairs.
Therin, Sprite, and Maeve were huddled at the lone table in the room Pinch had let. The rogue was pleased to see they'd exercised discipline and waited for his arrival instead of setting out on an ill-advised drinking spree. Of course, the jugs on the table showed they hadn't spent their entire time in sober contemplation.
'Run out of lamp oil while you were dressing, did you, Pinch?' smirked Therin when the master rogue found his friends. The regulator said not a word, but pulled up a chair and set himself at their table, back to a corner as was his custom. He was dressed ill matched and ill fitting, in tattered hose and a doublet that hung loose on his chest and short on the sleeves. About the only thing right about it were the somber dark colors, well suited to Pinch's needs for the night.
'Maybe he got caught catting and grabbed her husband's clothes instead of his own,' Sprite snickered.
'Pinch, you wouldn't!' Maeve added in mock horror.
'Have your wit all well and good, but have you done as you were commanded?' Pinch glowered as he tried to pour the last slops out of the jug they'd already drained.
'Aye, three for all of us.' Therin looked to the other two and they nodded agreement.
'I've found us an artificer who's gambled too poorly to meet his notes. He'll work quick with no questions for the right fee. I even filched us his fee.' Sprite plopped a bag of coins on the table.
'Keep your profit,' Pinch granted with uncharacteristic generosity, knowing full well the halfling had probably nipped twice what he was showing. 'The copies?'
'Two sets of each,' Sprite answered with a mischievous twinkle. 'Thought maybe we could take the second set and sell it to some coney once the word gets 'round.'
'How good's his work?'
'Faith, Pinch, he claims he's the best, but I ain't seen this blackjack and skene to compare.'
Pinch accepted that. It was a pointless question anyway, since there was no more time.
'The layout? I've seen the inside. What more can you give me?'
Therin reached into his heavy buff coat and produced a greasy sheet of parchment that he carefully unfolded and spread over the table, avoiding the pools of drink.
