“You should be careful too, Weasel,” Vosh said. “These are not just any hill-men. They were wearing purple plaid.”
“Am I missing something here?” said Rik.
“Blue plaid means they are of the Agante Clan,” said Weasel. “Same as our boy here.”
“So what?”
“So I am guessing that somebody knows who sold out our friends back in the mountains and has come looking to claim the blood debt. Am I right, Vosh?”
“That’s what I think.”
“So why should we be careful?”
“You don’t get it, do you, you half-breed bastard? Don’t think your kinfolk can save you.”
Rik was surprised by his own actions. He very casually pinned Vosh against the wall and began to slap him just hard enough to be insulting, not hard enough to do any real damage. “I’d be careful with my mouth if I were you, just like Weasel says.”
Weasel’s fingers bit into Rik’s shoulder as he pulled him away. For such a skinny man, he was surprisingly strong. Either that or Rik was drunker than he thought.
“I think what’s he’s trying to tell us, in his own charmless way, is that we are all marked by the blood debt.”
“You got it,” said Vosh. “Me because they think I sold them out for Exalted gold, you because you pulled the triggers on men who could not defend themselves.”
“Yes,” said Weasel. “That was wicked of us. No hill-man would ever do a thing like that.”
“Not the way you did. It’s one thing ambushing a man. It’s another killing men after setting demons on them.”
“We did something to offend your highly developed sense of honour then, did we?”
“Make jokes about it all you like, Weasel, but those men’s kin will follow you to the grave for vengeance.”
Weasel was looking thoughtful which worried Rik because it meant he was taking all this seriously. “Where did you see these men?”
“Here in the Pit today. I was just out for a breather when…”
“Did they see you?”
“No. I don’t think so. I ducked back in here, took a private room with one of the girls and left word I was not to be disturbed till evening.”
“Suddenly come into some cash have you?” Rik could guess where that came from. Doubtless the Exalted paid him a special bounty for leading them to the bandits.
“How do you know it was you they were looking for?”
“What else could it be?”
“Could just be your guilty conscience talking.”
“Could be, but I am taking no chances, and neither should you.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Weasel. “Now, we’d better go. I’d invite you along but it’s a private party.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t need the company. Oh and Weasel, we have something we need to talk about?”
“I can’t imagine what that is.”
“Books.” Rik felt as if he had just been struck by lightning. His hand went automatically towards his knife. Weasel stood absolutely still. Rik could see death in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Weasel asked, leaning closer until his face was almost pressed against Vosh’s.
“I was there when you two and your big friend found the books,” said Vosh. He was sweating but there was a drunken confidence in his voice.
“What books would those be?” asked Weasel. His tone was absolutely level.
“The wizard’s books. In the mine. I was there, after the fight. You didn’t see me, but I saw you. I heard you too.” Rik remembered that he thought he had heard something back then. It seemed he had.
“I sincerely hope you have not been shooting your mouth off about this,” said Weasel. “That really could be bad for your health.”
“All I want is a share of whatever you get. I am not greedy.”
Weasel gave him a cold smile. Suddenly he looked very frightening. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”
Rik did not trust this little hill-man as far as he could throw him. He wondered if they could just push him outside now and stick a knife in him. A quick glance around convinced him there were way too many witnesses for that.
“Keep your mouth shut about those books until you hear from us,” said Rik. “If the Inquisition get us, we’ll make sure you burn too.”
Vosh paled. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Don’t worry about me, half-blood bastard. See you keep your own lips sealed.”
Rik fought down the urge to punch him. He wished he had not had so much to drink. He could feel events starting to spin completely out of control. Weasel pointed two fingers at Vosh’s forehead and made the gesture of a man firing a pistol.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he said. “Until then see that you keep your mouth shut or the Inquisition will be the least of your worries.”
Rik looked around nervously. He was glad the hubbub of the tavern drowned out their voices. It would not do to have anyone hear them discussing the Inquisition.
Weasel began shouldering his way through the crowd back to their table.
“What did you make of that?” Rik asked.
“He’s full of shit and drunker than a barrelful of monkeys. Next thing he’ll be screaming about pink wyrms coming through the walls. One way or another we’ll need to keep his mouth shut.”
Weasel was silent for a long time when they got back to the table, and his silence made Rik uneasy. Rik glanced back over his shoulder. Vosh showed no sign of moving. Instead he was ordering another beer. He looked too scared to go out into the dark and Rik did not blame him. If he left the Axe now, he would have three Foragers on his trail and his life would not be worth a coin-shaver’s farthing.
The local apprentice lads glared at the Foragers. There was no love lost between them and the soldiers but things didn’t really start to go wrong until the other bluecoats took a hand. The trouble started innocently enough when Leon made another pledge to the Seventh, the best damn regiment in the Queen’s Service, and one of the newly arrived cavalrymen strode across to take exception to this. The Barbarian’s contribution to the debate was a swift punch to the rider’s face. The combat became close and general. The Foragers, the other soldiers and the local apprentice lads all getting involved in melee while the landlord and his seven stout sons started to heave the brawlers up the stairs and into the streets.
Somehow, not quite sure how he had got there, Rik found himself in the muddy roadway, shouting; “Keep your bloody ale. I never wanted it anyway.”
Moments later he discovered that Leon and Weasel were there with him. The Barbarian came crashing out a few heartbeats after that with two of the landlord’s sons, each muscled like a blacksmith holding his arms, Shugh’s massive arm locked round his throat, and a couple of the barmaids clawing at him for good measure. A swift shove saw him sprawling in the mud at Rik’s feet. He could hear titters of laughter from around the courtyard.
“Had enough, eh?” the Barbarian shouted. “I’ll take any ten of you soft southerners.” Rik began helping him up.
“That’s an excellent bruise you have there,” the Barbarian said.
“Almost as good as your black eye.”
“I say we take our custom elsewhere,” said Weasel. “They obviously don’t appreciate gentlemen of our refinement in the Axe these days.”
“What about Toadface and Handsome Jan,” said Leon.
“I saw them disappear upstairs with the two tarts when the fighting started.”
“Where’s Hopper?”
“He’s hopped it! What do you expect,” said Weasel.
“Bloody typical,” said the Barbarian. “They were exactly the same back in the mine. Serve them right that they won’t get a share of the treasure.”
Rik dug his elbow in the Barbarian’s ribs. Fortunately Leon had not noticed. He was too busy vomiting in the open sewer that ran down the middle of the narrow archway. Weasel leaned forward and whispered something urgently in the Barbarian’s ear. The big man nodded sheepishly and began to dust off his uniform. All he succeeded in doing was transferring the mud from his clothing to his hands.