his purse.
The innkeeper's face lit up, “Good,” he said, snatching the coin from Agis's hand. “I'll
put this toward his bill.”
With that, the man pulled the door open and stepped aside, then waved the noble toward a
ladder in the back of the inn. “I let him stay on the roof. Keeps the birds off.”
Agis climbed the stairs and stepped onto the inn's roof. It was a relatively flat surface
of baked clay, enclosed by a waist-high wall and littered with shattered broy mugs. In one
corner, the sunbleached bones of hundreds of dustgulls lay heaped around the blackened
scar of a small cooking fire, with a water jug and a few pieces of chipped crockery
sitting nearby. A short distance away, a canopy of untanned hide hung over a nest of gray
straw.
At the front wall stood a jozhal. The short, two-legged reptile had cocked his slender
head to one side, and he held a three-fingered hand cupped to his earslit as though
listening to something in the street below. He had an elongated snout full of needle-sharp
teeth, a serpentine neck topped by a jagged crest of hide, and a long skinny tail. In
contrast to his bony arms, he had huge, powerful legs, each ending in a three-clawed foot.
His eyes were covered with the milky film of blindness, and his free hand rested atop a
slender walking stick.
“The innkeeper said I'd find Nymos up here,” Agis said, walking to the reptile's side.
The jozhal jumped as if someone had shouted into his ear, bringing his walking stick
around to defend himself. Agis blocked the swing, then grabbed the cane to prevent the
creature from making another attack. As the noble did so, he glimpsed the reptile slipping
a small, spiral-shaped shell into a skin pouch on his belly.
The jozhal disengaged his walking stick from Agis's grasp. “I'm Nymos,” he grumbled. “What
do you want, Tyrian?”
The noble drew a second silver coin from his purse and placed it in Nymos's small hand.
“Marda said you could use this,” he said, guessing the jozhal had identified him by his
accent.
“I'm
looking for a smuggler with a fast ship who can follow the fleet that left last night.”
Nymos rubbed the coin between the three fingers of his hand. “It'll cost you more than a
silver.”
“I'll give you another when I find a captain I like,” Agis countered, wondering how the
blind reptile could tell that he held silver instead of gold or lead.
Nymos slipped the coin into his stomach pouch. “I'm more interested in magic,” he said.
“You wouldn't have anything enchanted, would you?” <
“I have nothing like that,” Agis replied. “I'm no sorcerer.”
The jozhal sniffed Agis's satchel and belt purse, then shook his head in disgust. “Like
trying to squeeze water from a stone,” he snorted.
“I'd
expect someone of your reputation to have an enchanted dagger or something.”
“My reputation?”
“Of course,” Nymos said. “Even in Balic, the bards sing of the noble who fought to free
the slaves of Tyr-Agis of Asticles.”
The noble's jaw fell slack in surprise. “What makes you think that's me?”
The jozhal held out his bony hand. “Answers cost.”
Scowling, Agis gave him another coin.
“The streets are full of templars looking for the Tyrian who left his giant in Lord
Balba's field,” said the jozhal.
“So I've heard, but that isn't the answer I paid for.”
“Your giant is less discreet with names than he ought to be,” replied Nymos. “Especially
considering who you are.”
“I'm Tyrian, but that doesn't mean I'm
that
one,” he said. “There must be a hundred men from Tyr in this dry. Any of them could be
Agis of Asticles.”
“True,” replied the jozhal. “But I suspect Agis is the only one with reason to follow
Tithian.” At the mention of the king's name, Nymos extended his hand for another coin.
“For one who charges so
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