The incredibly strong hillman extracted a wall beam as easily as if it had been a splintered piece of wood waiting to be peeled. Behind the beam was a space large enough to contain a long, narrow iron box. Therein Chert kept his ready cash and a small fortune in jewels. He peered into the container and breathed a sigh of relief. A sprinkling of gold orbs, a handful of electrum coins called luckies, and a fair quantity of silver nobles, copper commons, and other smaller coins lay scattered around a small sack of soft suede leather. Chert shook the container so that the coins made a pleasant jingling sound. Then he opened the small leather sack and took out the little silk parcels inside it. Each square piece of cloth encased a bright gem, a dozen in total.
These precious stones were his mad money, so to speak. If he ever needed to leave town in a hurry, the gems and gold would not only provide ample means to do so, but would see to his needs for a year of travel as well. Unlike Gord, the barbarian hill-man managed to hold onto his money carefully. He never admitted this to anyone, let alone Gord. Thank heavens the sums he had invested in various places in the city were bringing him handsome returns! At the rate the miserable thief he associated with was skinning him of funds, he was adding barely a silver noble a day to his balance.
Chert chuckled softly as he played with the stash and it occurred to him that Gord would be buying meals for him for the next few days, since the troublesome trickster was working under the assumption that he had won the last of his friend's meager holdings. "This is going to end up costing him much more than he stole from me!" Chert proclaimed loudly, and then he fell back on the bed and erupted in a fit of thunderous mirth.
"Perhaps I need a little sport myself," he mused, running the coins through his huge, thick fingers. "I should only spend the extra money earned from 'activities' with Gord. but what the devils!" With a careless motion, the hillman plucked several of the coins from his hoard and placed them in his purse — a noble, a pair of coppers, and twice as many bronze zees. "That's enough for a fair night on the town!" he exclaimed happily to himself. With that, Chert clumped downstairs, taking the steps three at a time. He'd head for the Toad on a Toadstool. Taverns in the University District were far more reasonable than the ones outside its confines, and their clientele included a goodly number of impressionable young females.
"Top of the evening to you, Chert. What's your pleasure?"
The big barbarian put a zee on the counter. "A jack of that brown ale you serve, Paddy," he said to the fat barkeep. "I'm in a mood to drown my troubles tonight!" Tankard in hand. Chert went to an empty table and sat down to ponder. How was he going to get even with the rascal he lived with? Some time passed. Another brown ale and then another went down easily. Chert was finishing off his fourth when the place began to fill up.
The crowd was a happy, amiable bunch, mostly students from nearby colleges, a few locals, and Chert. The huge hillman stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the Toad, and his thick body was broad enough for two of the smaller men to hide behind had there been a need. Naturally, such a figure attracted considerable attention — especially after things loosened up as the drinks began to flow.
"Where have you been lately, Chert?" it was a young scholar asking the question, a lad of about eighteen years who openly worshiped the barbarian. He eased his own considerable frame into a chair at Chert's table, setting a large pitcher of ale and his jack down as he did so. "Have one on me!"
Chert happily complied, filling his bumper full to its rim and swigging down half of it immediately before replying. "I’ve been busy — taking care of duties in the High Quarter, you know."
It wasn't a lie, but from this and remarks the barbarian had made in previous conversations, the student thought Chert to be some sort of special guard and consultant to those wishing protection against danger — and loss of goods. "How did it go?" he asked admiringly.
"Well enough, Budwin," the barbarian said with a slight frown to indicate things didn't work out as well as hoped for, "save for the loss of a large chunk of my all-too-meager holdings. But what the hells, live and learn, right? Your good health!" With that Chert drained off the remainder of the flagon and refilled it in one continuous motion.
"Don't tell me — you got stiffed!" the student exclaimed, noting the huge barbarian's sour expression. "I can get a few friends together, and we'll help you get things straight, what say?"
Budwin was well over six feet tall and weighed in excess of fifteen stone. Chert knew his college associates were likewise large — for city-bred folk, anyway. It was a sincere offer and the lad was anxiously searching Chert's face for a reaction, to see if he should jump up and begin gathering a gang. "Relax and drink the brew, my friend," Chert said with a negatory tone. "I need brainpower, not muscle and brawn, to set this little matter straight."
Budwin drank and scratched his head. His thinking ability in no way matched his strength of limb, but he was willing to try. Just then another student came to the table with three twittering girls in tow.
"Hey, my men! I'd like you to meet-"
"Shut up, Lloyd!" Budwin ordered. "We're thinking. If you bring another ewer of brown ale here and be helpful, maybe Chert and I will let you join us." The newcomer nodded, left the girls standing in silent confusion, and went off to fetch more drink. Budwin eyed the trio, smiling lecherously at them, and said, "Sit down, cuties. Lloyd will bring us refreshment in a trice." They sat.
One of the girls, a blue-eyed blonde, was very attractive and met Chert's gaze boldly. "Hi there, darlin’," he said to her. "My name's Chert."
"I am Holly," she said with a smile. "Are you- "
"We have a problem to solve," Budwin interjected. "Tell them about your problem, Chert." the young scholar said ingenuously.
The hillman frowned in irritation and resisted the urge to cuff Budwin on the ear for thoughtlessly spoiling his play. Then the barbarian shrugged his massive shoulders, deciding to clear the matter quickly and get on with the pursuit of the tender morsel sitting across the table from him. "I have an. . associate. . who continually plots and schemes to dupe me. He throws off outrageous statements, claims so fabulous that no one in his right mind could believe them. When I rightly object to the out-landishness of his assertions, this sly trickster suggests a wager as to right and wrong. Invariably, by the most outrageous of twistings and machinations, this devil wins! I must devise some problem or trick that will best him. Otherwise I will never see an end to his trickery."
"Has he won great sums of money from you thus?" Holly asked with interest.
"It isn't the amount of money lost," Chert lied, "but the very principle of the skulduggery involved which galls me so. I won't rest until I turn the tables on the little devil and stop the bull he throws at me!"
Lloyd arrived with the fresh supply of ale, and for a time they drank and bandied ideas about. There wasn't one really good one brought forth in all that time. Chert decided to make a serious attempt to separate himself and Holly from the crowd. Then Budwin slapped the big barbarian on the back and nearly shouted.
"Say, look! See that tall, kind of paunchy fellow who just came in?"
Chert, who was attempting to empty his ewer of its contents, nearly choked on the stuff when his young friend hit him. The barbarian again stifled a desire to throttle the bumptious chap. "Yeah, I see him! What of it?" Chert asked angrily, wiping some of the spilled drink off his face.
"That's Twistbuck, a Don of Counts College. Everyone says he's the cleverest man around. I'll wager he could solve your problem!"