Read Online King Pinch by David Cook, Walter (CON) Velez - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Cook, Walter (CON) Velez
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flattered.
The woman harrumphed but was already digging out the material she needed. Pinch and Sprite pulled their chairs close to screen her from the others. The mystic words were a chanted whisper, the gestures minute tracings in the air. An onlooker would have thought her no more than a person distracted by her own inner dreams.
Without really looking at them, Maeve turned her unblinking gaze on the two men. This was riskiest part of the process, Pinch knew. A stranger staring at you the way Maeve did was always cause for a fight. When at last she blinked, Pinch was just as happy no one had noticed.
"You've got them dead on, Pinch. They're in the trade and none too happy tonight." Maeve smiled as she turned back to her dinner. "Got their nerves up, what with a room full of our handsome escorts. Don't know what they make of us, but they've set their eyes to the other company here. Ain't no more but some terrible thoughts I won't say in public."
Sprite sniggered. "Wouldn't have been on you now, would they? Or was you just hoping?"
Brown Maeve swivelled away from the halfling with a snap of her greasy, unwashed hair.
"Heel your dog, Sprite-Heels," Pinch rumbled. "You're none too sweet scented yourself.
"Maeve, pay this ingrate no mind. Those that count know your quality." Pinch put a soothing hand on Maeve's shoulder. "Now, dear Maeve, can you read me the other table?"
Her face a sulky pout, Maeve let her blank gaze wash for a moment toward Pinch, only to be warned off by the fierceness of his glare, shadowed by the curve of his tender smile.
"The other table, Maeve," he directed.
The witch-woman sighed and lolled her gaze where he nodded.
Meanwhile the old rogue studied their target. It was a small table by the fire, where sat a lone traveler, unusual enough in a countryside where few traveled alone. That wasn't the least of it, either, for the traveler was a woman -not unheard of, but just that much more distinguishing. The inn was in the land between lands, an area just beyond the reach of anyone who could claim it, and thus had been laid claim to by highwaymen and beasts of ill renown. The lone traveler who stumbled into this void was prey for any stronger ravager.
Ergo, Pinch reasoned, this lone woman was not weak, but possibly foolish.
"She's saying her words over dinner," Maeve puzzled out.
"Invoking what church? And what's her business?"
The sorceress stared owl-like before giving up with a sigh. "No good, that is, Master Pinch. She's got a most fixed mind. What only I got was an image of her roast chick and the thanks to some faceless power. Kept seeing it as a glowing orb, she did."
"Sound like any you know, Sprite?"
The little halfling's grasp of odd facts was a surprising source of answers. If he knew, it wouldn't be the first time he'd remembered some chestnut of useless lore to their mutual benefit.
This time Sprite-Heels shrugged. "Could be any number of trifling sun gods, let alone the big ones like Mask or the Faceless Ones."
Pinch leaned forward and looked at the woman with false disinterest. "What about that temple we did?" he asked softly.
"Not from what Maeve said. Scared, Pinch? She's probably just some wandering nun, set herself to doing good deeds on the road."
The human rapped his mug against the table in irritation. "She's more than that."
"He's right, you nasty little Sprite," Brown Maeve crowed. "She's tougher than some gentry mort. Got that from her, for certain."
"What more can you do, Maeve?"
Pinch was answered with a resigned slump. "No more, love. Spell's all spent."
Sprite, trying to restore himself to the pair's good graces, offered, "I could pinch her, see what we'd learn."
Her clothes were commonplace, sturdy, dusty, and dull, the mark of one with much sense but little coin. Pinch shook his head. "I'll not be your snap for the strike, halfling. Not worth getting caught. Have you forgot the rules? Never lay your coin on a lean horse or -"
" -your knife to an empty
The woman harrumphed but was already digging out the material she needed. Pinch and Sprite pulled their chairs close to screen her from the others. The mystic words were a chanted whisper, the gestures minute tracings in the air. An onlooker would have thought her no more than a person distracted by her own inner dreams.
Without really looking at them, Maeve turned her unblinking gaze on the two men. This was riskiest part of the process, Pinch knew. A stranger staring at you the way Maeve did was always cause for a fight. When at last she blinked, Pinch was just as happy no one had noticed.
"You've got them dead on, Pinch. They're in the trade and none too happy tonight." Maeve smiled as she turned back to her dinner. "Got their nerves up, what with a room full of our handsome escorts. Don't know what they make of us, but they've set their eyes to the other company here. Ain't no more but some terrible thoughts I won't say in public."
Sprite sniggered. "Wouldn't have been on you now, would they? Or was you just hoping?"
Brown Maeve swivelled away from the halfling with a snap of her greasy, unwashed hair.
"Heel your dog, Sprite-Heels," Pinch rumbled. "You're none too sweet scented yourself.
"Maeve, pay this ingrate no mind. Those that count know your quality." Pinch put a soothing hand on Maeve's shoulder. "Now, dear Maeve, can you read me the other table?"
Her face a sulky pout, Maeve let her blank gaze wash for a moment toward Pinch, only to be warned off by the fierceness of his glare, shadowed by the curve of his tender smile.
"The other table, Maeve," he directed.
The witch-woman sighed and lolled her gaze where he nodded.
Meanwhile the old rogue studied their target. It was a small table by the fire, where sat a lone traveler, unusual enough in a countryside where few traveled alone. That wasn't the least of it, either, for the traveler was a woman -not unheard of, but just that much more distinguishing. The inn was in the land between lands, an area just beyond the reach of anyone who could claim it, and thus had been laid claim to by highwaymen and beasts of ill renown. The lone traveler who stumbled into this void was prey for any stronger ravager.
Ergo, Pinch reasoned, this lone woman was not weak, but possibly foolish.
"She's saying her words over dinner," Maeve puzzled out.
"Invoking what church? And what's her business?"
The sorceress stared owl-like before giving up with a sigh. "No good, that is, Master Pinch. She's got a most fixed mind. What only I got was an image of her roast chick and the thanks to some faceless power. Kept seeing it as a glowing orb, she did."
"Sound like any you know, Sprite?"
The little halfling's grasp of odd facts was a surprising source of answers. If he knew, it wouldn't be the first time he'd remembered some chestnut of useless lore to their mutual benefit.
This time Sprite-Heels shrugged. "Could be any number of trifling sun gods, let alone the big ones like Mask or the Faceless Ones."
Pinch leaned forward and looked at the woman with false disinterest. "What about that temple we did?" he asked softly.
"Not from what Maeve said. Scared, Pinch? She's probably just some wandering nun, set herself to doing good deeds on the road."
The human rapped his mug against the table in irritation. "She's more than that."
"He's right, you nasty little Sprite," Brown Maeve crowed. "She's tougher than some gentry mort. Got that from her, for certain."
"What more can you do, Maeve?"
Pinch was answered with a resigned slump. "No more, love. Spell's all spent."
Sprite, trying to restore himself to the pair's good graces, offered, "I could pinch her, see what we'd learn."
Her clothes were commonplace, sturdy, dusty, and dull, the mark of one with much sense but little coin. Pinch shook his head. "I'll not be your snap for the strike, halfling. Not worth getting caught. Have you forgot the rules? Never lay your coin on a lean horse or -"
" -your knife to an empty
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