the city, but for a couple of favors in return.”
“Anything at all!” Gozmo replied hastily, realizing that one pan of the scales held a couple of favors and the other held his reputation and his life. “That’s not much to ask!”
“First of all, tell me about the killing of the magician from Filand and the disappearance of a certain item.”
Gozmo chewed on his lip thoughtfully, rubbed his chin, and then said, “Markun’s men. Shnyg and Nightingale, the word is. They did a perfect job; not even the magicians can figure it all out. They stole some Doralissian trinket or other. It must be something very valuable, if Markun decided to kill a magician.”
“And to confuse the trail even further, that scumbag who is unworthy of the name of thief set the Doralissians on to me! Why else would they have been looking for me all these days?”
“He did that, and then he withdrew into the shadows, to wait for a buyer or a client.”
“Wonderful! So now for the second favor. You know everyone who wants to buy anything that’s a little bit hot?”
“Well, I do a bit . . .”
“Don’t be so modest. Tomorrow morning you’ll meet the head of the Guild of Thieves and tell him that someone new has turned up who will buy this item from him for, let’s say . . . twenty thousand gold pieces.”
“But that would be a lie!”
That made me laugh.
“Gozmo, don’t try to tell me that you’re an honest man and you never lie. I won’t believe you.”
“But Markun and his lads will feed me to the fish under the piers!”
“Don’t worry about it. I swear on Sagot that soon Markun will forget all about you for years and years. Will you tell him?”
“I will,” Gozmo muttered.
“All right, say he has to be in the inn at ten minutes to midnight. Tomorrow. Or, rather, today. Yes! And you can take an advance from him to cover the damage to your inn, in case the deal doesn’t go down.”
“What damage?”
“Don’t get nervous. You’ll just have to wipe the blood off the floor and that’ll be it. Tell Markun and his lads to be here, and to bring the goods with them. Say this is the only time when the customer can meet them. Markun’s too greedy not to show up.”
“What about the damage?”
“Forget it. Nothing terrible will happen,” I declared in a perfectly honest tone of voice.
“I don’t know what you’ve thought up, Harold, but I don’t like it one bit.”
“But you have to agree that it’s better than losing your life.” I got to him there. “All right now, it’s time for me to go. It was nice to see you.”
“Hey, Harold, I’ll do what you ask, but you have to promise you’ll forget all the minor inconveniences that I caused you without intending any harm.”
“It’s a deal, my friend,” I lied.
I didn’t feel like leaving through the window; the usual way seemed more attractive, although it is true that I had to walk backward all the way to the door, since good old Gozmo was famous for his skill in throwing even the very heaviest of knives. I couldn’t be sure that he didn’t have some other nasty toys hidden away under the mattress. I didn’t trust the old swindler any more than a crayfish duke, and life is far too pleasant a thing to part with it as stupidly as that.
I had no doubt at all that Gozmo would do as I had asked. He really had no choice. Unless he wanted to get out of town or tell Markun all about our nocturnal conversation. But the first choice was impossible—he would have to abandon his beloved inn—and as for the second . . . Would you conclude an alliance with a bloodthirsty snake, knowing perfectly well that he would bite you on the heel just when you weren’t expecting it? There, you see. Neither would Gozmo. He would rather put his trust in Harold, and he would try to earn a little bit of money from the guild as well, in the hope that everything would turn out all right.
I pulled back the bolt on the main door and slipped out into the street. I couldn’t give a damn whether Gozmo closed the inn after me or left it wide open to the whim of gods and vagabonds.
16
HUNTERS OF THE HORSE
The day that followed turned out pretty topsy-turvy. I went round to a dozen different places in order to