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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 borsholder 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 men 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.
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