Gheevy hovered near the wine racks, his back to the trader. “That’s peculiar. I can’t honestly recall anything of that nature.”
“Oh, you must!” Fullmer cried expansively, rising from the barrel and stretching out his arms. ‘Try to remember. The other night. Early evening. I was talking to a tall, thin, cadaverous-looking chap. You were behind the bar with Azzoparde. There was someone else between us… who was that again? You recall, don’t you?”
“Someone… between?… No… Let’s see. I’m thinking… ”
“But certainly you must remember! About six feet tall, slim, pleasant-looking, wearing a very handsome cloak. Very handsome cloak…” “Cloak?” Gheevy choked.
“Now, what did you say to him again?” Fullmer mused mockingly. ‘Two words… two names?… Starts with You’… ends with”
“All right, Teddington,” said Pryce, emerging from behind the cask into the dim light. “That’s enough.”
“Why, look who’s here!” the portly trader said with mock enthusiasm. “As I ferment and age, it’s… it’s…” He snapped his fingers several times. “Gheevy, who did you say this was again?” He looked directly at Pryce. “Or should I ask, who did you say this wasn’t?”
“I said that’s enough,” Pryce repeated before turning to his contrite halfling colleague. “Gheevy, would you mind leaving me and my… ‘friend’… alone for a time?”
“Blade… I’m so sorry.”
“No, Gheevy, you did the best you could. Never apologize for that. We were just up against the kind of man”he said the rest of the sentence with dripping disdain”who would call me ‘pleasant-looking.’”
The halfling’s gaze went from one man to the other; then he started to back away to the ladder that led up to the trapdoor. “I’llI’ll be upstairs,” he said hurriedly before practically running up the rungs. Even so, he lowered the trapdoor very cautiously, making nary a sound.
Fullmer watched him go, smirking, and then turned to Pryce with a superior gaze. “Well, he’s no Gamor Turkal, but”
“Ha, ha,” Covington said without humor. He sat on a small barrel opposite the trader. “So what brings you to Lallor, Teddington? You didn’t come here to critique my performance.”
“Perhaps not,” the little man replied quickly, taking his seat again, “but while I’m here, I simply can’t resist. Darlington Blade! Really, Pryce, don’t you think that this is a bit beyond the extent of even your many talents?” “I didn’t do this on purpose.”
“Didn’t you? You forget, Covington, I know you. I’ve worked with you. And even if I hadn’t, I still would have known your heart’s desire. Everyone from Mount Alue to Achelar knew it. We called it the Pryce Poem. ‘He doesn’t want your friendship, he doesn’t want a wife… all the man of service wants is a cushy job for life.’”
The trader laughed while Covington’s eyebrows rose. “You had a poem about it?” Pryce asked.
“Children played skipping games to it. I’d tell you the other stanzas, but they get a bit insulting… even risque.”
But Covington wasn’t offended. “A poem, eh?” he echoed with a bit of pride.
“You know, Pryce,” Fullmer continued, leaning forward, “I’ll tell you the truth. When I heard the name and then saw it was you, there was a moment when I thought it might be true. That you really were the great Darlington Blade.”
“Come on, Teddington. ”
“No, truly! Remembering all your skillsfrom the frivolous to the abstruseI thought it just might be the case. Remember, you were a wizards’ messenger. It wasn’t too long a leap to think you might also be learning something from them.”
‘Teddington, if you truly knew me at all, you’d know I don’t like magic. Gamor certainly knew.”
“But don’t you see, Pryce? That fits, too. You protested too mucha perfect cover.”
Covington shook his head in amazement. ‘Teddington, if you worked half as hard as a liquids trader as you do inventing intrigue, you wouldn’t have to be in constant search of a big deal.”
“Hmph,” Fullmer said, blowing air into his goatee. “And you should have stayed in Merrickarta, selling what was left of your eroding wit, instead of having the unmitigated gall to impersonate the most famous adventurer in the Shining South.”
“You know, Teddington,” Pryce sighed, “I think you’re right.”
“Still,” the trader said casually, leaning back and looking at his manicured fingernails, “your pathetic little performance could have its purpose… ”
Pryce looked up at him like an animal that just realized it had stepped into a trap. The two men sat in that split second between the time the spring was sprung and the iron jaws snapped shut.
“Oh?”
“Well, you know and I know… and that halfling fellow seems to know… that you’re not who you say you are… ”
“Who everyone else says I am,” Pryce corrected.
Fullmer waved away the niggling point aside. “But that selfsame ‘everyone else’ doesn’t know. They think you are Darlington Blade.”
“So?”
“So let’s take advantage of that, Pryce. I know what you want, and you know what I want, so let’s collaborate to achieve our dreams together.”
“How?” Pryce wondered truthfully.
Fullmer put his elbows on his knees and spoke with intensity. “I’ve been waiting all my life for an opportunity like this. A primary mage’s workshop, ripe for the taking? He’s missing; you’re his student. It’s rightfully yours!”
“But as Zalathorm is my witness, Teddington, I really don’t know where it is.”
“I know that, Covington! If you did, you wouldn’t be waiting around for the inquisitrixes to disintegrate you.”
“So what do I do?” Pryce exclaimed helplessly. “Go to the next council meeting and say, ‘Hey, it’s my workshop, so if anyone will simply tell me where it is, I’ll wrap it up and be on my way’?”
The trader just smiled. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
‘Yes?” Pryce echoed incredulously.
“Yes. I know, and you probably know, that a variety of people are scrambling to be in line for the primary mage’s post if Geerling Ambersong doesn’t return by the Fall Festival. He had already announced his retirement in any case. Now, everyone knows Darlington Blade is his student, so all you have to do is declare a right of possession.”
“A right of possession!” Pryce exclaimed. “Oh, is that all?”
Fullmer reacted as if all he were asking Pryce to do was tell him the time of day. “Certainly. You loved your master, but you cannot, in good conscience, take his place. You are not worthy. So you beneficently leave the post open for the many other fine candidates. All you ask is that the council declare you the rightful owner of his workshop. And in the process of doing that, the location cannot help but be revealed.”
Pryce looked at his former employer as if he had painted his face green. “What if they do a little scanning of me, in addition to the workshop’s inventory?” He had already faced that particular problem once, and he didn’t know if the Ambersong clasp would be strong enough to withstand a council member’s magic.
“On Darlington Blade?” Fullmer reminded him. “They wouldn’t dare!”
Pryce scoffed but let it go for the moment. “All right, then, what if Geerling Ambersong comes back? What if I’m in the middle of this declaration, and he appears in the crowd and does a Gheevy Wotfirrnamely, proclaiming to anyone within earshot that I am not Darlington Blade? What then?”
Teddington Fullmer simply leaned back. His smile widened and his eyes narrowed until they were both thin slits. “Now, don’t you worry about that, my friend. I have it on very good authority that it is extremely unlikely that Geerling Ambersong will ever come back.”
The words hung in the grotto like Gamor Turkal at the Mark of the Question.
Covington considered several different ways to react. His first inclination was to ask for clarification. Phrases like “I beg your pardon” and “Would you mind elaborating on that theme?” came to mind. But he felt certain that they would only cause Fullmer to get coy. He was already cunning. Cunning and coy would be too much for Pryce to bear.