will get the hang of them. Coward’s thing, really. A good blade is where it’s at, right?”
She threw the gun into the bushes by the side of the road. And good riddance.
“Better off sticking with swords,” Vocho agreed, knowing exactly why the subject had changed. “Know where you are with a sword. Guns have no style anyway. No, no panache.”
She rolled her eyes but laughed anyway, a bit shaky but back to herself again. For now.
A peculiar noise reminded them of the driver, still up on his seat. Only just though, because he was bent over and wheezing like an old man, oilskin cloak flapping in the sodden wind like bat wings. On closer inspection, it seemed he was laughing fit to piss himself.
“Oh, that was a good one. Nice shot there.” He went off into gales of more laughter.
Kacha raised an eyebrow his way. “Oh, do be quiet, Cospel. I didn’t want to kill the stupid sod, just rob him. Now come and help me get his boots off.”
“Only good nob is a dead one, I always say, so it’s all good to me.” Cospel wiped at his eyes, allowed himself one last chuckle and jumped down from the seat.
“You might have mentioned Petri was in the coach,” Kacha said.
“You might have mentioned the magician as well.” Vocho kept his voice light, but he could still feel the pained thud of his heart at the sight of that piece of paper, still remember the way the markings on the man’s hands had tried to lead his brain astray.
“Magician?” Kacha asked in a weak voice.
“I tried!” Cospel said. “Only couldn’t say anything, could I? Not unless I want everyone to know I’m helping the robbers of Fusta Wood. Only turned up last minute. Didn’t have a chance to let you know. Knew you two could deal with them though.”
Vocho yanked Eggy’s boots off. A good make, soft leather to the knee, polished to a high shine under the mud. Probably even the right size. “That’s what the eyebrows were all about? Maybe you should teach them to do semaphore, then next time I’ll have a hope of understanding. Though I don’t want there to be a next time, not to meet a magician.” Vocho shuddered.
Kacha looked down thoughtfully at Egimont and if there was a wistful look it soon vanished. “What’s he doing with a magician? He’s only a clerk at the prelate’s office. Not even a very important one. He’s got some money as ex-nobles go, but not enough for that. Above that, his family has no power any more, and that’s what I hear magicians crave. When I hear of them, which is just about never. Are you sure he was one?”
“Good question.” No, he wasn’t sure, in fact he really hoped he was wrong, but if there was even a hint that it had been a magician they could all be very dead. It was probably just him being paranoid. He’d been twitchy ever since the whole thing with the priest. That must be it. Magicians were long gone. Paranoid. “The answer is, I don’t care as long as he isn’t here. Now come on. Time we were on our way. Time to get paid.”
Between the three of them, they soon had everything of value off the men. Not a bad haul as things went. As well as the five purses, each of which would keep them fed and warm and drunk for a week or more, Vocho had a fine new pair of boots that didn’t pinch too much, a splendid crimson silk jacket and matching short cape from Flashy that he would probably never wear, not in that crap sack of a village they were living in, and Berie’s gilt and glitter sword, which looked good but on closer inspection bent like tallow when pressure was applied. Ah well, he could sell it anyway. Kacha made sure she got Eggy’s sword – far better than Flashy’s for all it was gilt-free – and stripped them of all their jewels.
They took all the clothes they didn’t want and bundled them into a sack, leaving three almost naked gentlemen and two nearly naked guards. Who wouldn’t care nearly so much as the gentlemen when they all arrived wherever they were headed, wearing nothing but underwear, with some rather suspicious damp staining around the crotch area in Berie’s case.
On to the carriage, and their spy – Cospel – had been right. Under a seat was a trunk big