and knees and bumped the walls of his shack repeatedly. There was no light inside beyond what slipped between thoboards, and the coin
the price of an
excellent donkey or a horse that might or might not carry an adult twenty miles
was not large physically.
The noises stopped. The watchman reappeared at the window and stuck his arm out so that he could see the coin
50
David Drake
DAGGER
51
in the light of the lantern on the shack's front. It winked, and Samlor winked cheerfully at the amazement of the man whom he saw for the first time. Money was generally the best way to approach a stranger.
"What d'ye wanna know?" said the watchman. His voice was no less suspicious than before, but now it was pitched an octave lower. The coin disappeared somewhere out of sight as soon as he realized that he was flashing it to the world.
"How long you been here?" Samlor asked. Then, realizing that he knew exactly what answer he would get
Huh? Since sundown
he added, "How many weeks, I mean?"
The watchman's hands reappeared in the light. He was counting on his fingers while his lips mouthed one, two, three
He paused. "Pay me," he demanded.
"When I'm satisfied," the caravan master said, "you get all the rest of this. If I'm not satisfied, I'll take back the first, and I'll have your guts for garters."
Gold danced from one hand to the palm of the other in time with Samlor's broadening smile. The mixed message suddenly got home in the watchman's brain. He jumped back away from the window.
"No problem, friend," said Samlor. "I want to give you this money."
"Three weeks. An' a day," came the voice from the dark. "Look
"
"And have you seen any signs that anybody lives in the place opposite?" Samlor continued, trampling steadily over the notion that the watchman had something useful to say that wasn't an answer to a direct question. "People going in or out? Food deliveries? The lantern by the door lighted?"
"Gods and demons," the watchman mumbled, leaning forward again in his shack.
"Well, I dunno, I
what was that last thing again?"
Like working with a camel, thought Samlor, except that a good camel was probably smarter. "The lantern by the doorway there," he repeated gently, pointing with the hand which held the money. "Has it ever been lighted while you're on duty here?"
"There's no lantern," said the watchman, stretching as far forward as he could from the window. He was a scrawny man, and the effect was rather that of a turtle trying to grasp a berry hanging well above it. "Say, but yer right, there was a light over there back. . . . Well, I dunno for sure, but there was a light."
That was going to have to do, the caravan master realized. There had been at least some evidence of occupancy at Setios' house three weeks ago, and now there wasn't. Samlor'd never been a big one on finesse if it looked like a quick and dirty way was going to accomplish the job.
"Fine," he said aloud to the watchman. "Now you bring me that screw jack over there
" he pointed "
and I give you this.
"Better yet
" he went on, because he saw the watchman's mouth drop open before the fellow skipped out of sight again in fear "
I'm going to drop the gold right
here."
Samlor reached inside the grating and let the coins fall with a glittering song.
"Now," he repeated. "All you have to do is bring me that jack. Then I'll go away, and you can scoop up the money safe as can be. Right? Look at it." Despite himself, the watchman did peer out of his shack again. "But if they miss a tool. . . ," he said in a tone of desperate pleading.
"I'm paying you more than you'd make in a year doing this," said the caravan master reasonably. The coins shone on the ground as invitingly as the eyes of the most beautiful whore in the world. "For that matter, I'll bring the jack back if I've got a chance
but what d'yoit care?"
The watchman sidled out of his shack. As the caravan master had suspected, the fellow's weapon\ was not a crossbow
the price of an
excellent donkey or a horse that might or might not carry an adult twenty miles
was not large physically.
The noises stopped. The watchman reappeared at the window and stuck his arm out so that he could see the coin
50
David Drake
DAGGER
51
in the light of the lantern on the shack's front. It winked, and Samlor winked cheerfully at the amazement of the man whom he saw for the first time. Money was generally the best way to approach a stranger.
"What d'ye wanna know?" said the watchman. His voice was no less suspicious than before, but now it was pitched an octave lower. The coin disappeared somewhere out of sight as soon as he realized that he was flashing it to the world.
"How long you been here?" Samlor asked. Then, realizing that he knew exactly what answer he would get
Huh? Since sundown
he added, "How many weeks, I mean?"
The watchman's hands reappeared in the light. He was counting on his fingers while his lips mouthed one, two, three
He paused. "Pay me," he demanded.
"When I'm satisfied," the caravan master said, "you get all the rest of this. If I'm not satisfied, I'll take back the first, and I'll have your guts for garters."
Gold danced from one hand to the palm of the other in time with Samlor's broadening smile. The mixed message suddenly got home in the watchman's brain. He jumped back away from the window.
"No problem, friend," said Samlor. "I want to give you this money."
"Three weeks. An' a day," came the voice from the dark. "Look
"
"And have you seen any signs that anybody lives in the place opposite?" Samlor continued, trampling steadily over the notion that the watchman had something useful to say that wasn't an answer to a direct question. "People going in or out? Food deliveries? The lantern by the door lighted?"
"Gods and demons," the watchman mumbled, leaning forward again in his shack.
"Well, I dunno, I
what was that last thing again?"
Like working with a camel, thought Samlor, except that a good camel was probably smarter. "The lantern by the doorway there," he repeated gently, pointing with the hand which held the money. "Has it ever been lighted while you're on duty here?"
"There's no lantern," said the watchman, stretching as far forward as he could from the window. He was a scrawny man, and the effect was rather that of a turtle trying to grasp a berry hanging well above it. "Say, but yer right, there was a light over there back. . . . Well, I dunno for sure, but there was a light."
That was going to have to do, the caravan master realized. There had been at least some evidence of occupancy at Setios' house three weeks ago, and now there wasn't. Samlor'd never been a big one on finesse if it looked like a quick and dirty way was going to accomplish the job.
"Fine," he said aloud to the watchman. "Now you bring me that screw jack over there
" he pointed "
and I give you this.
"Better yet
" he went on, because he saw the watchman's mouth drop open before the fellow skipped out of sight again in fear "
I'm going to drop the gold right
here."
Samlor reached inside the grating and let the coins fall with a glittering song.
"Now," he repeated. "All you have to do is bring me that jack. Then I'll go away, and you can scoop up the money safe as can be. Right? Look at it." Despite himself, the watchman did peer out of his shack again. "But if they miss a tool. . . ," he said in a tone of desperate pleading.
"I'm paying you more than you'd make in a year doing this," said the caravan master reasonably. The coins shone on the ground as invitingly as the eyes of the most beautiful whore in the world. "For that matter, I'll bring the jack back if I've got a chance
but what d'yoit care?"
The watchman sidled out of his shack. As the caravan master had suspected, the fellow's weapon\ was not a crossbow
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