lingering, suspicious gaze on the two prisoners as he went out.
“I have little time, so do not waste it,” said the Lord of Tarsis. “Word has reached me that you two are skilled criminal investigators. Is this true?”
“It is more than true,” said Nistur, curling one end of his mustache. “In certain places, we are quite famous. Why, two years ago, in the great city of Thansut, it was the team of Nistur and Ironwood that exposed the murderous conspiracy of the Temple of the Frog God.”
“Thansut?” said the lord. “I have never heard of the place.”
“It is rather far from here. But you have certainly heard of Palanthas?”
“Of course I have.”
“Well, a mere half year ago, it was we who discovered the murderer of Jesamyn, chief of the prestigious Mortar-Mixers Guild, and brought him to justice. You need but send there to your fellow sovereign for confirmation. He will recommend us most highly.”
“It would take weeks to get an answer back from Palanthas, and I do not have weeks.”
“What a pity,” Nistur said. “Upon my honor as a gentleman, my lord, my colleague and I are unmatched at the art of criminal detection. You have but to give us your commission, and we promise to render complete satisfaction.”
The lord studied them for long moments; then he came to a decision. “I will chance it. Your first commission is likely to be your last, however. You now have a bit over four days to uncover the murderer. After that, the nomad army will destrwill besiege the city. Here is what I require of you.” He gave them a terse synopsis of the negotiations with the envoys, the discovery of the murdered ambassador, and the demands of Kyaga Strongbow.
“I quite understand,” said Nistur when he was finished. “We shall place the malefactor, or malefactors, securely in your grasp, alive, within four days.”
“You had better.” He glanced at Ironwood, then looked back at Nistur suspiciously. “I notice that you do all the talking.”
“I,” said Nistur, “am the intellectual portion of this partnership. My companion provides the combative expertise so often necessary in our line of work.”
“Well, anyone can see you’re no sort of fighting man.” The lord opened a wooden chest and drew forth a pair of silver amulets, like oversized coins, bearing his personal sigil. Each hung on a narrow, silver chain. “This is my
seal. Wearing it, you can go anywhere and question anyone, including the nomad camp and its inhabitants.”
“We shall need three, my lord,” said Nistur.
“Three?”
“We need a guide, since this is not our city. In the Hall of Justice we met a young woman named Shellring. She seems most knowledgeable about all parts of the city. If you could release her to our custody, we will stand surety for her good behavior.”
“Constable Weite!”
The official came in. “My lord?”
“In the dungeon you have a woman named Shellring?”
“Yes, my lord. She is one of our regulars.”
“Bring her here.”
“Immediately, my lord.” Constable Weite looked as if he no longer had the capacity to be surprised. He clumped away, and Nistur spoke.
“And now, my lord, there remains one small matter.”
“I cannot imagine what it might be. You have your commission, and every second you spend here is a second wasted.”
“Why, sir, there is the matter of our recompense.”
“Recompense? You mean pay?”
“My lord is most astute.”
“You two do enjoy breathing, do you not?”
“I can scarcely imagine life without that essential exercise,” Nistur answered.
“Just so. Well, serve me well and I will allow you to continue breathing. Fail me and you will hang. That should be recompense enough. Or perhaps I will turn you over to Kyaga Strongbow. He is far too uncivilized for a simple hanging.”
“As you will, my lord,” said Nistur, ruefully. “However, we must have some small operating funds. Much of our work will involve passing petty bribes to
“I have little time, so do not waste it,” said the Lord of Tarsis. “Word has reached me that you two are skilled criminal investigators. Is this true?”
“It is more than true,” said Nistur, curling one end of his mustache. “In certain places, we are quite famous. Why, two years ago, in the great city of Thansut, it was the team of Nistur and Ironwood that exposed the murderous conspiracy of the Temple of the Frog God.”
“Thansut?” said the lord. “I have never heard of the place.”
“It is rather far from here. But you have certainly heard of Palanthas?”
“Of course I have.”
“Well, a mere half year ago, it was we who discovered the murderer of Jesamyn, chief of the prestigious Mortar-Mixers Guild, and brought him to justice. You need but send there to your fellow sovereign for confirmation. He will recommend us most highly.”
“It would take weeks to get an answer back from Palanthas, and I do not have weeks.”
“What a pity,” Nistur said. “Upon my honor as a gentleman, my lord, my colleague and I are unmatched at the art of criminal detection. You have but to give us your commission, and we promise to render complete satisfaction.”
The lord studied them for long moments; then he came to a decision. “I will chance it. Your first commission is likely to be your last, however. You now have a bit over four days to uncover the murderer. After that, the nomad army will destrwill besiege the city. Here is what I require of you.” He gave them a terse synopsis of the negotiations with the envoys, the discovery of the murdered ambassador, and the demands of Kyaga Strongbow.
“I quite understand,” said Nistur when he was finished. “We shall place the malefactor, or malefactors, securely in your grasp, alive, within four days.”
“You had better.” He glanced at Ironwood, then looked back at Nistur suspiciously. “I notice that you do all the talking.”
“I,” said Nistur, “am the intellectual portion of this partnership. My companion provides the combative expertise so often necessary in our line of work.”
“Well, anyone can see you’re no sort of fighting man.” The lord opened a wooden chest and drew forth a pair of silver amulets, like oversized coins, bearing his personal sigil. Each hung on a narrow, silver chain. “This is my
seal. Wearing it, you can go anywhere and question anyone, including the nomad camp and its inhabitants.”
“We shall need three, my lord,” said Nistur.
“Three?”
“We need a guide, since this is not our city. In the Hall of Justice we met a young woman named Shellring. She seems most knowledgeable about all parts of the city. If you could release her to our custody, we will stand surety for her good behavior.”
“Constable Weite!”
The official came in. “My lord?”
“In the dungeon you have a woman named Shellring?”
“Yes, my lord. She is one of our regulars.”
“Bring her here.”
“Immediately, my lord.” Constable Weite looked as if he no longer had the capacity to be surprised. He clumped away, and Nistur spoke.
“And now, my lord, there remains one small matter.”
“I cannot imagine what it might be. You have your commission, and every second you spend here is a second wasted.”
“Why, sir, there is the matter of our recompense.”
“Recompense? You mean pay?”
“My lord is most astute.”
“You two do enjoy breathing, do you not?”
“I can scarcely imagine life without that essential exercise,” Nistur answered.
“Just so. Well, serve me well and I will allow you to continue breathing. Fail me and you will hang. That should be recompense enough. Or perhaps I will turn you over to Kyaga Strongbow. He is far too uncivilized for a simple hanging.”
“As you will, my lord,” said Nistur, ruefully. “However, we must have some small operating funds. Much of our work will involve passing petty bribes to
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