Prissith Nerro hissed with pleasure. "What more?"
"By now, the cloak bearer knows of the arcane and his representative, Barrab," the sub-captain continued. "Our asset is certain the creature will attempt to contact Barrab, and hence the arcane." It hesitated-questioning the captain was a risky business at the best of times, but it had to know. "Do we proceed as you outlined, Prissith Nerro Master?"
The captain spat with harsh neogi laughter. "Yes, brood-brother," it said. "We will let my plan progress a little further before we intervene."
*****
Barrab was a large man, almost as tall and broad as Aelfred Silverhorn, and weighing about as much. While the big warrior was all muscle and bone, without an ounce of fat on his frame, however, Barrab was softly rounded everywhere. His black, rather stringy hair was shoulder-length, framing a round, pale face. His thick lips were always curved in a beatific smile. At first, Teldin had thought the expression made the man look like some kind of giant cherub, then he'd noticed that the smile didn't quite reach the man's small eyes, which were cold and hard. Teldin judged that he was in his early forties, though he had to admit to himself that there was at least a five-year margin of error in that estimate. Barrab sat back in his leather-backed chair and watched Teldin and Aelfred coolly as they stood before the table he was using as a desk.
There had been no problem in finding the Edgewood: it was well-known throughout Rauthaven as the best restaurant, wine room, and inn in the city. The Edgewood was located in what was known as the 'High Quarter'-the district just a little downhill from Duke Admantor's castle-and its architecture and decor immediately identified it as a haven for the upper class. Its entry off Widdershins Street and its halls were spotless, all floors covered by carpets of the finest workmanship, and the rooms-if Barrab's was any indication-as sumptuous as a king's palace.
They'd had no difficulty in getting in to see Barrab. Presumably, as the arcane's representative, he had to be available at all times to any business opportunity. All they'd had to do was ask the functionary in the Edgewood's lobby, and they'd been given directions to Barrab's room.
When they'd reached the door, Teldin had suggested that Aelfred and Julia, who was the second "bodyguard," wait outside, but the first mate had squelched that idea in short order. "Forget it," he'd told Teldin bluntly. "First, there's no telling if there's somebody who wants to put a knife into the back of 'Aldyn Brewer,' for whatever reason. Second, this is a business delegation. What kind of respect are you going to get if you don't have your 'personal assistant' with you, eh?"
Teldin had to admit that it was reassuring to accept the big warrior's arguments. Even though Aelfred was in "civvies," a green jerkin with a garish red sash at his waist, he still carried his short sword with him, and Teldin didn't doubt that he had a couple of throwing daggers concealed on his person. He and Aelfred had entered Barrab's "office," the first mate following his "employer" a respectful step to the left and behind. Julia had stayed in the hallway, exchanging steely glares with the dagger-armed bravo who stood sentry outside Barrab's room.
Barrab sat while they stood. He looked them up and down leisurely, the cherubic smile never faltering. He reached out and, with a delicacy that belied the size of his fingers, picked up a swollen green seed from a glass bowl on the table before him and popped it into his mouth. He sucked contemplatively while he continued his scrutiny. Finally he spoke. "You have business with me, yes?" Teldin was surprised by the man's voice. It was quiet, gentle-weak, Teldin thought, but that was probably a facade the representative used in business situations. The hard eyes were anything but weak.
Teldin had worked out his approach with Aelfred on the way over. Now he was glad of the preparation. He kept his voice steady, almost disinterested. "Not with you," he told the factor, "with your employer."
Barrab raised an eyebrow so thin that it seemed to have been plucked. "Indeed?" The word spoke amusement and a little disdain.
"Indeed," Teldin replied flatly. "I understand that you are T'k'Pek's representative in Rauthaven. Sometimes it's… polite… to follow conventional channels."
"Oh?" Barrab seemed a little surprised at this. "And you have access to unconventional channels?"
"If need be, but it would be inconvenient to be forced to use them."
Barrab's gaze grew even harder, if that were possible. "Indeed," he repeated coldly. "And just what is your business with T'k'Pek?"
Teldin had a quick answer for that one. "That is between your master and myself." He injected a hint of contempt into his voice.
The representative picked up on it, as Teldin had known he would. "I am empowered to review all business concerning T'k-concerning my master, and determine whether it's worth his time and attention."
"For rudimentary, day-to-day business, I would agree that you are ideally suited to review it for your master," Teldin shot back. "The business I have with T'k'Pek is not of that ilk. It can only be discussed between your master and myself." He was silent for a moment. Enough darts, he thought. Time for the carrot…. "It seems to me," he said, his tone more reasonable, "that, to be trusted, a representative must have the wisdom to recognize when unusual circumstances arrive, and the authority to pass them directly to his superior. Isn't that so?"
Barrab sat back, still smiling his beatific smile, and spread his soft hand. "I'm afraid you credit me with more authority than I actually have," he said, feigned sadness in his voice. "My instructions are strict on this." Casually he took another seed and put it into his mouth.
"That's your final word?"
"I'm afraid so, but if you'll tell me what your business is, I assure you…" He trailed off expectantly.
Time for the stick, Teldin thought. He shook his head in irritation. "Unfortunate," he mused. He started to turn away. "T'k'Pek has never been the type to take it kindly when an officious underling delays important information."
There was a sharp crack as Barrab's jaws crushed the seed in his mouth. With an effort that was apparent to Teldin, he kept his voice steady. "You know T'k'Pek?"
Teldin simply smiled. "I suppose I must pursue those unconventional channels," he said quietly, almost to himself. "That will take time." He turned for the door. "Aelfred," he snapped. Playing the role of the loyal henchman to the hilt, Aelfred turned on his heel and hurried to join his "master." Teldin grasped the doorknob, twisted it… then turned back to Barrab, a rather uncomfortable-looking Barrab, he judged. "I'll be aboard my vessel, the hammership Probe, if you wish to speak to me."
With that he left. Aelfred shut the door on Barrab's response. In the hallway, Julia fell into step with the others, both officers flanking Teldin. None turned back. ;
They kept their silence until they were well away from the Edgewood, then Aelfred roared the laughter he'd been biting back and pounded Teldin on the shoulder. "Smoothly done!" He guffawed. "Julia, you should have seen it. Remind me never to face this one across a hand of cards. He bluffs better than I do."
"Will it work?" Teldin wondered. "I'd say the odds are good," Aelfred judged. "I read that Barrab as a minor underling with delusions of grandeur. If I'm right, he'll be scrabbling to cover his assets. Now it's just a matter of waiting."
Teldin nodded. "I can't wait too long."
*****
Aelfred accompanied Teldin and Julia halfway back to the harbor, then left to go about his own business. "I've got to talk to someone about repairing the ship," he explained. The female officer seemed lost in her own thoughts, and she and Teldin finished the walk in silence.
As they reached the harbor, the small tender was just coming alongside the dock, packed with familiar faces. There was "Bale Estriss" and two officers from the Probe. Vallus Leaf-bower was accompanied by Horvath and Miggins. Teldin was most pleased to see Rianna smiling up at him from the vessel.
The tender's passengers disembarked. The ship's officers strode away immediately, with the avowed intention of arranging for the Probe's repair and resupply, then finding a taver
n. Estriss wandered off to pursue his investigations, and Vallus Leafbower faded into the night without mentioning where he was going-"Probably going to see his mistress," Rianna speculated under her breath.
Miggins and Horvath headed off in search of a ship's chandlery to find the materials they needed for their proposed modification of the hammership's sea sail. Julia climbed into the tender.
That left Rianna and Teldin alone on the dock. "Did your business go well?" she asked.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he replied. He glanced at the sun, which was hardly a finger-span above the horizon. "Coming into town for evenfeast?"
She shrugged. "What are your plans? "she asked. "Are you set on going back to the ship?"
He grinned at her. "Unless you've got a better idea."
"Maybe I do." She turned to Julia. "You head on back," she suggested. "I'll keep an eye on Aldyn."
Julia scowled at Rianna, an expression for which her face seemed little suited. She gave no answer, just told the ferryman, "The Probe!'
Rianna watched with raised eyebrow as the tender pulled away from the dock. "Friendly sort," she remarked. "So, any preferences as to what you want to do?"
Teldin shrugged. "You know this city, I don't," he pointed out. He smiled. "I do remember an offer to show me around."
"Evening isn't the best time for sightseeing," she said with a grin, "but let's see what we can see."
They started up the hill into the city proper. As they walked, it seemed natural to Teldin to slip his arm around Rianna's waist, his hand resting on her right hip. Without saying a word, she rested her right hand on top of his. Their fingers intertwined, and he pulled her closer.
The street Rianna had selected was wide and well paved. Most of the two-story buildings that flanked it seemed to be shops of some variety, closed for the day. In the deepening evening, the ground floors were dark, but lights showed in many of the upstairs windows-presumably these were the shop-keepers' homes. The couple saw no carriages on the street, and the few pedestrians seemed to be sailors.
"This is called the Processional," Rianna told him. "If you follow it all the way, it'll take you to Duke Admantor's castle. Last time I was here, some visiting dignitary's ship was in the harbor and this road was decked out in flags and banners, flowers and torches, like you wouldn't believe. I wish you'd seen it."
The road began to climb a little more steeply. Teldin felt under-used muscles complain in his calves. He tried to match Rianna's easy, swinging stride. Even though she was a little shorter than he, her legs-and hence her strides-were almost the same length as his. As they walked, Rianna was looking around as if searching for familiar landmarks. " Where are we headed?" he asked.
"There's a tavern around here, I think," she answered. "If I can just remember the side street, and if it hasn't closed since I was last here."
"We passed some inns back down by the water," Teldin pointed out.
Rianna shook her head. "Harborside taverns," she said dismissively, "catering to sailors, broken-down whores, and uptown failures. They're great if you're looking for a nice, diverting brawl, but I'm not in the mood. What I'm looking for-there it is," she interrupted herself. She put her arm around Teldin's waist and led him to the right down a narrow crossroad.
There were fewer lighted windows here, but fifty feet away Teldin saw ruddy firelight washing out into the street from an open doorway. A wooden sign hung above the door, but he couldn't make it out.
" 'The Pig and Whistle,' " Rianna announced, leading him toward the door. She gave his waist a squeeze, "Buy a girl a drink, sailor?"
Teldin stopped in his tracks. He hadn't even thought of it before. "I don't have any money," he admitted. That wasn't quite true; he did have some coins, but they were steel Krynn currency. Odds were that it wouldn't be accepted here, and- worse-someone might recognize its origin.
She fixed him with an amused glance. "Don't they use money on Waypoint?" she asked ingenuously, then chuckled at his uncomfortable reaction. "Don't you worry, I've money enough. This time the girl can buy the sailor a drink." She led him through the open doorway.
Teldin had visited inns in a few of the larger towns he'd visited and thought he knew what a "big city" tavern would look like. The Pig and Whistle came as a complete surprise. It was a small room with pillars and crossbeams of dark wood supporting the low ceiling. The whitewashed walls were decorated with horse-brasses, bridles, and other pieces of tack. The floor was wooden planking dusted with a thin layer of sawdust to soak up spilled drinks. A fire burned in the small hearth opposite the bar itself. Teldin sniffed the air; he would have sworn it was a peat fire. By the bar was a narrow staircase that presumably led upstairs to the tavern's one or two guest rooms.
This was his first trip to Rauthaven, but Teldin knew this little pub. It was virtually identical to any number of village taverns around the Kalaman region where he'd grown up. Everything-the smoke-discolored ceiling, the feel of sawdust underfoot, the smell of peat smoke mixed with ale-was exactly as it should be. An overwhelming sense of homesickness, of loss, washed over him.
Rianna smiled broadly. "Well?" she asked. "What do you think?" When Teldin hesitated, her face fell. "I'm sorry," she said, "I thought you'd like it. I thought it'd remind you of home."
"It does," he explained.
"But too much." She squeezed his waist again. "I understand. Come on, we'll go somewhere else."
She tried to turn back to the door, but Teldin stopped her. "Oh, no," he said, "I do like this place. Anyway, you promised me a drink, and you're not getting out of it that easily."
Her smile returned. "And I thought I was off the hook," she said jokingly. "All right. Why don't you find a seat while I get the drinks?" With a final squeeze, she headed for the bar.
Teldin looked around the room. Most of the tables were occupied, but there was one-in the back corner-that was empty. Carefully he threaded his way over to it.
The table had no chairs around it-presumably they'd been "requisitioned" by the occupants of other tables-but there was a wooden bench with cloth-covered seat bolted to the wall. It's small, but there's just enough room for two, he thought as he sat down, as long as we don't mind sitting close, Teldin thought he could handle that.
Rianna was at the bar, watching the publican draw two pints of ale. As he waited, Teldin let his gaze drift idly around the tavern. There was a difference between the Pig and Whistle and the pubs of Kalaman, Teldin realized, but the difference wasn't in the institution itself. It was the people who were different. In a village pub at home, there was no way he could have made his way from the door to a back table without someone offering him a friendly greeting, trying to strike up a conversation, or challenging him to a friendly game of knucklebone. A village pub was more like a social center than a drinking establishment, particularly for the more aged.
The Pig and Whistle's patrons were city folk, however, and city folk always kept to themselves-or so Teldin had decided long ago. They'd never offer a greeting, for fear that it would be taken as an invitation to exploit the speaker somehow, or as a challenge. They'd respond to a greeting with either grave surprise-and often a close scrutiny, on the assumption that the speaker was either someone they should know or mentally deranged-or with surliness. As city people held their tongues, so did they control their glances. In Kalaman, a newcomer to a bar would immediately be inspected from crown to toe by the regulars, but there would be no hostility or challenge in the curious stares. In cities or large towns, Teldin had seen, people kept their eyes down and only shot someone a furtive glance if they didn't think they'd be caught at it. So things were in the Pig and Whistle.
There was movement in the doorway. He saw the flash of a profile, then the figure withdrew into the night. Why did that profile look so familiar? He racked his brain for a moment, then the answer came to him. It was Iregimesticus, one of the crewmen that the Probe had acquired from the neogi vessel. What was he doing here? Tregimesticus was one of those who'
d adapted least well to freedom. Teldin couldn't imagine the ex-slave showing the initiative to ask for passage to shore, and then to track down a tavern for a drink. He could be wrong, of course… but then why did the man look around the place and leave?
Rianna's return disrupted his train of thought. She sat beside him, pressing the warmth of her hip against his. He immediately discarded thoughts of Tregimesticus for much more interesting considerations.
"Cozy," Rianna remarked. She set two tankards of ale on the table. "Barleycorn's Best Bitter," she announced, "The Resort's finest ale, in my opinion, and that's saying a lot."
He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "We'll see about that." He lifted the heavy pewter tankard and took a pull. Served at room temperature, the thick ale had a rich, nutty taste, with an underpinning of smoky sharpness. He let it linger on his tongue, giving the flavor time to develop, then he swallowed. He breathed out through his nose, enjoying the lush aroma. It was similar to the Krynnish ales he was familiar with, but just different enough to make it seem somehow exotic. And, he had to admit, it was excellent. Easily on a par with, if not marginally better than, the local bitters of Kalaman. "Not bad," he said noncommittally, trying to suppress a smile.
Dissembling didn't work with Rianna, though. A warm smile spread across her face. "Admit it," she said, digging him playfully in the ribs with an elbow. "It's excellent. Better than the best on Waypoint, isn't it?"
He looked away from her uncomfortably. I'm lying to her. he told himself. She's befriended me-maybe more-and I'm lying to her. He felt miserable.
She seemed to sense his discomfort and smoothly changed the topic. "I asked the bartender if he knew of any arcane in town," she told him. "You said you needed to meet one. For that kind of information, barkeepers are about the best sources around."
"And?"
She shrugged. "He said he didn't know but promised he'd ask around. We can check back here tomorrow and see if any-thing's come up."
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