Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [47]
Malys was now gone and Flotsam was slowly recovering, but the wild child had been forced to grow up, and was now a sadder, though wiser, city.
Most of the ships now in the harbor belonged to the minotaur race, who ruled the seas from their islands to the north to the conquered lands of the former elven nation of Silvanesti to the south and beyond, for the minotaur nation was reaching out to humans, working hard to try to gain their trust. Well aware that their economic survival depended on trade with human nations, the minotaurs were ordered by their commanders to be on their best behavior while in Flotsam. The people of Flotsam, meanwhile, were conscious of their own economic survival and signs welcoming the minotaurs were posted in nearly every tavern and shop in town.
Consequently a city once known throughout Ansalon for its chair-breaking, table-hurling, mug-smashing, bone-crushing bar fights was now reduced to a few bloodied noses and a cracked rib. If a fight did break out, it was quickly squelched by either the local citizenry or minotaur guards. Offenders were hauled away to prison or permitted to sleep it off below decks.
As Nightshade would soon discover, Flotsam was in line to become a model citizen. Crime was down. There was no longer even a Thieves Guild, for the members hadn’t been able to raise enough cash to pay the dues. A settlement of gnomes located outside the city offered the only chance for excitement, but the mere thought of Mina among gnomes made Nightshade shudder.
“Might well bring about the end of civilization as we know it,” he told Rhys.
The kender was pleased, however, to find people interested in his abilities as a Nightstalker. A great many people had been killed by the dragon, and Nightshade’s ability to speak to the departed was much in demand. He lined up a client the second night they were in Flotsam.
Mina was eager to go with Nightshade to the graveyard “to see the spooks” as she put it. Nightshade, considerably offended by this undignified term, told her quite sternly that his encounters with spirits were private, between him and his clients, not to be shared. Mina sulked and pouted, but the kender was firm, and that night after dinner, he went off by himself, leaving Mina with Rhys.
Rhys told her to help him sweep up. She gave the kitchen floor a couple of swipes with the broom, then she tossed it aside and sat down to pester Rhys about when they were going to start for Godshome.
Nightshade returned late in the night, bringing with him a set of cast-off clothes and new boots for himself and for Rhys, whose old boots were cracked and worn through. As it turned out, the kender’s client was a cobbler and he’d taken the boots in payment. Nightshade also brought a meaty bone for Atta, who accepted it with relish and proved her gratitude by lying on his feet as he related his adventures.
“It all started when I was visiting the graveyard last night and chatting with some of the spirits when I noticed a little boy—”
“A real little boy or a spook?” Mina interrupted.
“The proper term is spirit or ghost,” Nightshade corrected her. “They don’t like to be called ‘spooks’. It’s quite insulting. You believe in ghosts, don’t you?”
“I believe in ghosts,” said Mina. “I just don’t believe you can talk to them.”
“Well, I can,” said Nightshade.
“Prove it to me,” Mina said slyly. “Take me with you tomorrow night.”
“That wouldn’t be right,” Nightshade returned. “Being a professional, I keep my client’s communications confidential.” He was pleased at having uttered several large words in a row.
“You’re telling us about them now,” Mina pointed out.
“That’s different,” said Nightshade, though for a moment he was flummoxed as to how. “I’m not using their names!”
Mina giggled and Nightshade went red in the face. Rhys stepped in, told Mina to quit teasing Nightshade, and told Nightshade to go on with his story.
“The little boy ghost,” said Nightshade with emphasis, “was really unhappy. He was just sitting there on this tombstone,