Instead, Covington decided to play along. He put both hands on his knees and widened his stance. He raised his head and looked Teddington directly in the eye. “And,” Covington said, “I suppose you expect me to believe that.”
‘What? Why, yes, of course!”
“You wouldn’t just be saying that so I’ll risk my neckno, my entire skeletal structure! to secure a mage’s workshop without a single iota of risk for you.”
“Come, come, my boy…”
“No, you come, come, my man,” Pryce chided. “Where’s my part of the deal?”
“Half the riches from the sale of a primary mage’s workshop!”
“And one hundred percent of the risk!”
Fullmer’s expression seemed to say he agreed, but then the trader leaned back and folded his arms. “Now, now,” he said evenly. “It’s not as if you have any say in the matter.”
Pryce didn’t let that obvious statement faze him. Instead, he smiled. “I just wanted to see how long I could hold off that particular observation.”
“You are a clever boy,” Fullmer acknowledged, “but allow me to finish my thought so we are both completely clear on the subject.” He leaned forward again, this time pointing directly between Pryce’s eyes. “If you do not help me find, and secure, Geerling Ambersong’s workshop, I will tell the inquisitrixes, the city guards, the military, and the Council of Elders that you, my friend, are no Darlington Blade.”
Pryce pretended to be completely unaffected by the threat. He pointed his own forefinger back at the trader. “And then I will tell the selfsame authorities that you are a blackmailing traitor who tried to use my accidental impersonation to sell magical items and spellbooks vital to the defense of the city and the nation.”
Covington dropped his finger and leaned back, his hands behind his head. “Then they would, no doubt, divine our intentions, and who do you think would walk away intact?”
Fullmer kept his finger up, but he blanched. Even his mustache seemed to droop. ‘You wouldn’t!”
“I might,” said Pryce, sitting up, “but I’m just trying to make the point that these threats aren’t necessary. All I want is your assurance that Geerling Ambersong will not interrupt my performance.”
Fullmer beamed and slapped his thigh in relief. “Now, there’s the Pryce Covington I remember and love!”
“Of course,” Pryce said casually. “Cushy job for life, remember? Away from the pain and strife?”
“Yes, yes, very good. Now, my friend, my associate, my partner, what can I do to assure you?”
“You said you had it ‘on very good authority that it is extremely unlikely,’ etcetera, etcetera, and so forth.”
Fullmer laughed. ‘Tour memory is incredible,” he marveled. “Even better than Gamor Turkal’s.”
“Yes, yes, flattery will get you nowhere. Now,” Pryce said portentously, “what I want to know is from whom.”
Fullmer reacted as if Covington had asked him to pull down his pants and dance a jig. “But I can’t do that!”
“Which means you’re lying, and you’re just trying to convince me.
“No, it’s true. I’m not lying.” The wine merchant was suddenly desperate. “Please, Pryce, be reasonable. You have to understand that I’ve been finessing this operation for months. Ever since I heard the rumor that the workshop might be up for grabs, I’ve been following leads, creating a network of informants, investigating every dead end-“
“It seems, however, that now you’ve found a right-of-way. Come on, Teddington, give. I need to know as much as you do more! that Blade’s rite will not be wronged.”
Fullmer was dead white and sweating profusely in the gloom of the grotto. “Pryce, if you only knew, you wouldn’t ask such a thing!”
Covington was tempted to leap upon the man and use his stomach as a springboard until he talked. He resisted and just kept to the course. But the closer he thought he was getting, the more the chase seemed like trying to grab a pollandry seed out of midair. It just kept shooting out of his closing fingers. “But I don’t know, Teddington, and I need to know if I’m going to be convincing.”
The trader was shaken, but he nodded with agitation, his chin and lip hair bobbing. “All right. You’re right, of course. If we are to share in the wealth, then we must share in the danger as well.”
At the time, Pryce thought Fullmer was saying that he would share Pryce’s danger. Only later did Covington realize that the trader was actually revealing that he was willing to let Pryce share Teddington’s jeopardy.
“I need to take care of some things,” Fullmer said, distracted. “Meet me this evening behind the restaurant, in the little clearing among the rocks where the deliveries take place. I’ll have all the information you need then.”
‘Tell me now,” Pryce insisted.
“I can’t!”
‘You don’t think I know what will happen tonight?” Covington exploded. “Either you won’t show, or you will… with some very big friends!”
“Pryce, upon my honor”
“For what that’s worth!”
To Pryce’s surprise, the trader swelled up to his fullest height and widest width. “You tell me honestly, Pryce, in all our dealings, and in all the dealings you ever heard I was involved in, has my promise ever been anything but reliable? You think carefully and answer me, Covington. Have I ever cheated on a bet or broken a promise?”
Pryce did think, then felt slightly ashamed. “You make precious few promises, Teddington, but the ones you do make are not broken,” he conceded grudgingly. “I’m sorry I besmirched your reputation.”
The trader stood and carefully brushed off his clothing. “With all the other stains upon my character,” he said with remarkable candor, “your smudge is hardly noticeable.” He nodded. “Tonight then.” He named a specific time. “I promise, tonight you will know all that I know.”
Then, as elegantly as he could, Fullmer made his way up the ladder and disappeared through the trapdoor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next few hours were the longest of Pryce Covington’s life. He was tempted to use the time exploring the grotto or returning to the Ambersong residence for a nap, but he knew he would have a very hard time exploring or sleeping with the weight of this investigation on his head.
So, instead, he waited a few minutes after Fullmer’s departure, then slowly climbed the ladder out of the grotto. He tried to analyze any new information as he went, but the many “whys” he asked himself were answered only by “huh?” or “what do you mean?” or “I’m not sure I follow that.”
When Pryce emerged from the trapdoor into the eating and drinking establishment, he found himself beside a thick leg attached to the rest of Azzoparde Schreders’s burly body. The proprietor smiled down at him and offered a hand. “Get what you want, Master Blade? Eh, eh?” the friendly barkeep boomed as he lifted Pryce easily from the opening.
“Not yet,” Pryce said, dusting himself off, “but I’m working on it”
It was late afternoon, and the crowd was sparse. Pryce looked over the bar to see Berridge Lymwich sitting at a distant table near the door, staring at him from over a glass. But instead of giving him a suspicious look, she had formed her thin lips into a knowing smile. Silently she raised her glass to him.
With one hand, Pryce reached down, took an empty tankard from a holder under the bar, and raised it sardonically to Lymwich in return. As he put it back, he used his other arm to nudge Azzo. The proprietor turned his solid bulk toward Covington with a low, rumbling “Hmmm?”
“Isn’t Inquisitrix Lymwich on duty?” he inquired lightly, nodding toward her. Schreders looked over at the thin woman, who was no longer looking in their direction. Instead, she was looking out the front windows at the splendid Lallor afternoon.
Azzo shrugged. “She often comes in after the lunch rush.” He smiled at Pryce. “Even inquisitrixes have to eat sometime. Eh, eh?”
Covington was distracted by the passing of Sheyrhen Karkober. He watched her saunter across the floor, then turn to wink at him. Then she placed a bill of fare on a table where the gaunt figure of Asche Hartov sat.