Brenden crouched on the bottom bunk of the center cell.
"I'm here to pay the blacksmith's fine," he answered. "How much?"
"You want to… why would you do that?" The constable looked suspicious.
Leesil shrugged. "It was either come down here or stay home and work on the roof. Which would you choose?" He paused briefly and repeated, "How much?"
Ellinwood sat for a moment before answering. "Six silver pennies, no foreign coin."
Leesil suppressed the urge to wince. It was an absurd amount for the offense. He only had five and that was a month's estimated share, and well more than a month's wage for many in a small town like Miiska. It seemed the constable made good money by charging outrageous fines— or carried a grudge against the young smith and would make it difficult for anyone to interfere. But Leesil wasn't going to give up so quickly, and he doubted Ellinwood was willing to ignore such easily obtained profit.
"What if I pay you five now and sign a voucher on the other one?" he asked. "I can pay the balance at the first of next month."
"I've got the rest," Brenden said quietly from his cell.
Leesil's head turned to find Brenden's large eyes staring out of the cell's peep slot, his red mane of hair sticking out wild and unkempt around his face. Leesil walked over to the cell door, nodding.
"At least I did," Brenden continued, "when I came in." His gaze shifted to Ellinwood with an accusing glare.
"Well, that should cover it then, eh, Constable?" Leesil added, leaning against the door with his arms crossed.
The constable stared back at them, as if considering some weighty decision. Then he turned around and picked up a small chest on the floor. Fiddling out a set of keys from under his tunic, he unlocked the chest and took from it a small, char-stained coin pouch. He walked over, unlocked the cell door, and handed the pouch to the blacksmith.
Brenden poured a small assortment of coins from the pouch into Leesil's slender hand, who in turn sifted through the contents until he came up with enough copper coins to make up the difference. Leesil then emptied his own purse to complete the fee.
"Here," the half-elf said, holding out the coins in his fist. He dropped them into Ellinwood's open palm.
The constable returned to his desk, counting out the amount carefully. He put the coins into the chest, closed and locked it, and then went back to scanning the documents on his table without a word.
Leesil shrugged with disgust and motioned for Brenden to follow him out into the street. People bustled by, heading for the market or off to some other business of the day. A small boy hawked smoke-dried fish biscuits by the near corner. The sun beat down through a sparsely clouded sky.
"I… I'll pay you back," Brenden said under his breath, "as soon as I can."
"Oh, that's all right. I don't spend money I can't afford." Leesil shrugged again. He had food, shelter, and an endless supply of wine. There was nothing more that he needed and little more that he wanted at the moment. "I'm sorry about last night," he added.
"Sorry?" Brenden looked away. "Now you shame me. I heard what you said for me, and you could have set that wolf on me. From the way you put me down, you could have done… I guessed you could have done more."
Leesil began walking, and Brenden fell into step beside him. This blacksmith was a man with a strong sense of fair play. It was odd company for Leesil, after years of less-than-scrupulous ventures with Magiere, or on his own before that. He found it difficult to say anything more now that he'd gone to all this trouble for a stranger.
"What you said to Ellinwood was justified," Leesil said finally. "He's done nothing to catch your sister's murderer."
"I'm not sure he can," Brenden answered, kicking at some dust. "I'm not sure anyone can but your partner, and she refuses to help."
"What are you talking about?" Leesil feigned ignorance, hoping to dismiss what he knew was next on the smith's mind.
"Your partner—hunter of the dead."
Leesil's stomach growled, but not from hunger. He was beginning to understand Magiere's restless irritation of late.
"You've been listening to too many rumors," he added.
"Maybe, but too many is always the catch," Brenden countered. "When it's the same rumor over and over, wherever you go, it's got something of truth behind it."