“Sounds like a real prince,” Buncan muttered. “What’s this got to do with my friend’s sister?”
The mongoose glanced sharply at Squill. “Ah, she is your sister. That is most unfortunate.”
For the first time Squill exhibited a semblance of real concern. “Wot are you on about, guv?”
“Besides being a deadly fighter, and powerful and rich, the Baron Krasvin happens to be a mink.”
“A mink?” Squill blinked. “Wot’s that got to do with . . .Oh. A mink, it is?”
Buncan frowned at his friend. “I guess I’m missing something.”
“Did you cut all your tribal-classification classes, mate?” Squill peered up at him. “We otters ‘ave pretty intense appetites in certain areas.”
“Like for fish?”
“I ain’t talkin’ about food ‘ere, Buncan. Otters ‘ave extreme lohgin’s for swimmin’ and for fun. ‘Umans like to argue. Wolves are partial to singin’. Cattle like to stand around an’ gossip an’ ‘orses like to pull things. None o’ them can ‘elp it. It’s all part o’ the natural order o’ things. Minks like to . . . Let me put it like this. Your average mink would make Mudge look celibate.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.”
Squill was nodding vigorously. “I mean, I never thought o’ me own sister as attractive. Kind o’ a frump, if you ‘appened to ask me. But bein’ ‘er brother an’ all, I suppose from the viewpoint o’ another she might possess characteristics that—”
“It would not matter, sir,” the mongoose interrupted him. “With the Baron it would become a challenge, a question of honor, were one who happened to catch his eye decide to decline his advances. Would your sister be likely to do that?”
“With a knife, if necessary,” Squill readily admitted.
“You’re saying you saw this Krasvin ask Neena for a date, or an assignation, or something?” Buncan said.
“Nothing like that. Please stop the pain.”
“Come on,” Buncan urged the coppersmith. “We’re wasting time. What did you see?”
“Please,” the vendor hissed at him, “I have to maintain the fiction, or word could get back to the Baron’s agents that I helped you willingly.”
“All right, all right. I’m beating you to a pulp, see? But try and hurry it up.”
“That is precisely what occurred. The Baron was accompanied by a number of his armed retainers. I was sitting right here and saw it all happen. From what I could tell, the young female not only categorically refused his invitation, she laughed at him.”
“Uh-oh,” Squill muttered.
“Though I did not know her, at that moment I myself feared for her,” the mongoose confessed. “I could of course not become involved.”
“Of course not,” Buncan said dryly.
“The Baron Krasvin is not a mink for a compatible female to laugh at. Especially in a public place. He takes his reputation very seriously. I sensed it was not the sort of insult he could allow to pass. So I continued to watch.”
“Your sister,” he told Squill, “came down this line of stalls. Down there,” he pointed, “is a public lavatory. As she was about to enter, I saw three of the Baron’s retainers jump upon her and assault her with clubs. She fought ferociously but, taken by surprise, was quickly overpowered. They placed her in a canvas sack and spirited her away. To the Baron’s mansion, I am sure.”
“And you didn’t try to intervene, or call for help?” Buncan said darkly.
The mongoose was unrepentant. “They would have killed me without a thought, and by the time city police might have arrived they would have been long gone. Besides which, nobles are but infrequently taken to task for their infractions.”
“Don’t get on ‘im, mate,” said Squill unexpectedly. “ ‘E were only protectin’ ‘imself.”
“You think she’s been taken to this Krasvin’s house,” Buncan growled. “Tell us how to get there.”
“If you will stop beating me, I will give you directions. Ah, that’s better. Perhaps you can make some kind of deal with the Baron, buy her back. He likes money as well as . . .”
“We get the picture,” Buncan told him.
The mongoose nodded. “You must of course put any foolish thoughts of forcibly liberating her out of your minds.”
“Why?” Buncan wanted to know.
“Because the Baron’s abode, within which he lives a life of barbaric ease, is impregnable. While not actually a castle, it would still take a small army to surmount its walls. I myself have seen this residence, and I promise, you would not get past the outer gate.”
“Cor, we are a small army.” Squill jabbed a thumb against his chest. “An’ we ‘ave unique weapons at our disposal.”
Do we? Buncan wondered. Can Squill and I spellsing without the harmonizing of his sister? He was less than sanguine about the possibilities.
“Don’t worry.” Buncan placed a comforting arm around bis friend’s shoulders as they made their way back to the livestock pens to fill Gragelouth in on what had transpired. “We’ll get her out.”
“I weren’t worryin’ about ‘er, mate. I was feelin’ sorry for this ‘ere Krasvin chap. ‘E ‘asn’t a clue wot ‘e’s got •imself into.”
“You’re not taking this lightly,” Buncan admonished him. “Neena’s in serious trouble.”
“Maybe. On the other ‘and, if we left ‘er ‘ere she’d probably be all right until we got back, we’d travel faster, and I bet she’d eat better than us.”
Buncan promptly smacked the otter on the side of his head, dislodging his cap. Startled, Squill gazed at his friend in surprise.
“Ow! Wot did you ‘it me for?”
“You know damn well what I hit you for! Neena’s your sister, your only sibling.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
Duncan’s voice dropped dangerously. “Did it ever occur to you that after having his way with her, this Baron could have her killed instead of setting her free? Just for having laughed at him? From what that mongoose told us, this Krasvin sounds capable of that. Maybe if your positions, so to speak, were reversed, you’d be thinking differently.”
“Oh, all right!” Squill threw up his hands by way of surrender. “So we’ll save ‘er or die tryin’, just like all brave fools are supposed to. But our jolly merchant will decry the delay.”
Sure enough, once he’d heard all the details Gragelouth didn’t want any part of their unlikely rescue attempt. If anything, he was less encouraging than the mongoose.
“You are great spellsingers, but you are young and inexperienced, in matters of siege and war no less than in sorcery.” He brushed fur away from his mouth. “And I am sure it has occurred to you that with the female component of your spellsinging triumvirate indisposed, you may not be able to work any necromancy at all. Should that be the case, you will be two against a well-defended target. That is not bravery; it is suicide.”
“Then we’ll have to take the mongoose’s suggestion and try and negotiate her release,” Buncan said.
“We do not have anywhere near the necessary funds,” the merchant reminded him. “We would not even if I canceled the purchase of the riding lizards.”
“ ‘Ow about we sneak inside and kill ‘em one at a time?” Squill suggested.
“Oh, that’s very good.” Buncan smiled sarcastically. “We don’t even know what kind of house soldiers Krasvin employs.”
Gragelouth let out a long, resigned sigh, half of which emerged via his nostrils. “Perhaps you should leave more of this to me.”
Squill eyed him in surprise. “You don’t mean you’re comin’ with us?”
“I need your help if I am ever to ascertain the existence of the Grand Veritable. I cannot imagine encountering again any others as blindly willing and credulous as yourselves.”