He felt drained. "It's impossible."
"It happened, Pinch. We all saw it."
"It can't. It only works on those with royal blood."
"What about your father?" Maeve questioned.
"He was a no-account knight who died in battle. Not him."
"Your mother?"
"A lady-in-waiting to the queen, I'm told."
"Are you sure?" Sprite asked.
"I don't remember my parents. All I know is what people told me about them."
"Maybe they lied to you," Therin suggested.
"Lied? Why?"
Therin looked thoughtful for a moment, fingering the Cup. "You say this thing works only for royal blood. So who's got that in Ankhapur? The princes and Manferic-anybody else? Dukes, earls, counts, brothers of the king, people like that?"
Pinch shook his head. "Manferic did in his brothers-and his uncles and sisters, the whole lot. Purged his family tree. He was determined that no one would challenge him."
Sprite goggled. "He murdered them all?"
"He was king-he had absolute power. If he wanted you dead, you were dead. The beauty of it was he didn't even have to do it himself. That's what lackeys like Cleedis were for."
"If they're all dead," Therin continued, "and, like you say, that thing works only on royal blood-then Pinch, there's only one place it could've come from."
The regulator swallowed a great gulp of wine. He needed it. "You're saying-"
"Maybe that knight's not your papa."
The four all stared at each other, nobody wanting to agree but unable to deny the conclusion.
"Crap." Pinch broke the silence. "Crap! Damn Manferic's cursed soul!" Years of pent-up fury surged out of him. He hurled his mug across the room, flung aside the table, and kicked away the chairs. Sprite went scrambling for the treasures as they skittered across the floor, while the landlord hurried in from the back room, brandishing his mace. He was confronted by a raging madman, swearing and cursing at demons he couldn't see. The sight of Pinch in this state was more than enough to keep the landlord at bay. Seeing as he had their belongings upstairs for security, the landlord wisely scuttled well out of the way.
The three let Pinch rage, not that they had any power to stop him. He fumed about the room, sullenly kicking at chairs and cursing Manferic with every oath he knew. When he'd run out of damnations and tortures to inflict on the lich and his kind, Pinch stopped and turned to the trio who waited at the table.
"That bastard robbed me of my birthright," the master said as his shoulders quivered with exhaustion and rage. "He let his precious sons drive me out fifteen years ago and didn't raise a hand to aid me. I was supposed to have been a prince, not some back-alley bravo."
He righted a chair and slid it over to join the others. Enthroned on it, he lapsed into a dark silence. The others held their tongues. Their master was in one of his scheming moods, not to be disturbed until he returned to the surface with some plot in his grasp, like the diver who swims through the blind murk in search of the pearl.
Pinch pondered for a long time. There were so many questions and so many pieces: Manferic, Cleedis, Iron-Biter, and-most of all-the woman in the tunnels. Was she his mother? A nursemaid? A madwoman? Or something yet he could not fathom? There were too many questions.
"Therin, Maeve, Sprite-gather in," he said when he at last raised his head and noticed them. With his arms beckoning he drew them close. "How would you like to be rich-and respectable?" he asked with a conspiratorial whisper.
"Us, Pinch?" Sprite snickered. "There ain't nothing respectable about us."
" 'Struth for you, you little weasel, but I've a mind to be a lady someday," Maeve sniffed. "I could stand for being respectable."
"Respectable's not worth a whit without money. How rich?"
"A treasury at your command, Therin. Is that loot enough for you?"
"Aye. If you've got a plan, I'll go along with being rich." Therin still looked dubious. "Does your plan intend taking on this lich?"
Pinch looked very solemn until the worst fears of the others confirmed themselves in their looks. Only then did he break into a grin. "That would be a fool's task- so we'll let fools do that for us."
"So what's our plan?" Sprite asked, signaling his support of the enterprise. The halfling never could resist an adventure, no matter how rash.
Pinch studied the others to make sure they were all in before he went on. Their eyes told it clear: a bright hunger for adventure, revenge on all who'd looked down on them, but, most of all, money.
"The best of all plans-quick wit and light step. I'm going to shake the family tree and we'll see what falls."
"It's a thin plan for hanging our lives on, Pinch." Therin sounded less than confident.
"It was as much of a plan as I had for getting you off the gallows in Elturel-and that worked, didn't it, or you wouldn't be here complaining, you over-learned ogre," Pinch countered.
The big Gur rubbed at the rope-scar under his scarf with self-conscious discomfort. To say he'd been rescued from the gallows wasn't quite honest, though he had to allow that Pinch had rescued him. It was that business of being hanged and then saved that left Therin with nightmares. "It's just I don't relish dying again, Pinch."
"Then be smart and you won't." There was little sympathy in Pinch's words, and seeing that the younger man remained sullen, the regulator poured drinks around. "Here's what-we'll not take this alone. I've got a mind we should have some allies, though they won't be knowing it. Maeve, I want to you visit the priestess Lissa. Inform her I've tracked down her thief and that she should stand ready to come at my word if she wants to catch him."
"Me, Pinch? I'm not particular cunning with words."
"Don't worry, the lass is gullible. You'll make a touching plea, I'm sure.
"Therin, I've got a job with profit for you. Mind, it's going to take a light touch. Go to Iron-Biter-"
"Who?"
"That ox-head of a dwarf who spins in Vargo's orbit. Here's the charm: Tell him he's been tricked, that the real regalia ain't in the tower, but you can lead him to it. Of course, you'll want money."
"Of course, but where am I supposed to lead this prize ass?"
"You'll have to wait for Sprite to show you."
"Me?"
"Aye, you." The regulator stopped to wrap a bit of cloth around his still-bleeding thumb. "It's upon you to give the signal. Now, get away with your business you two." With a sharp nod he urged Maeve and Therin toward the door.
Just as he was leaving, Therin turned back for one last question. "What if we don't show?"
"Then sure as there's gods in the heavens, there'll be not a whit of loot for any of us, the master rogue promised. "Don't fail if you want your cut."
Therin grunted in sour understanding and was on his way.
"What about me, Pinch?" Sprite asked after he was sure the door to the street was closed.
"Two jobs for you, old friend." The words were soft, as if invisible ears might try to overhear. "First, you must follow Cleedis when he takes me to my rendezvous. Learn the way so you can guide the others to me."
"What's the other?"
Pinch tapped his brow. "Keep a weather eye on our fine Gur. I don't trust him. He's like to sell us all-me in particular-if Iron-Biter makes the right price."
"So why in the hells did you send him to Iron-Biter?"
"Fishing takes the right bait and the right hook. I'm the bait. Therin's the hook. Iron-Biter's a fool, but he's not gullible. Who's going to convince him-Maeve, playing a part, or Therin, who just might get it into his head to sell us cheap?"