Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [114]
"And you did what with my pickpockets?" Ferret rasped incredulously.
"Don't get excited, my dear weasel-faced boy," Cormik rumbled indignantly. "It was a business decision, that's all." As usual, the corpulent proprietor of the Prince and Pauper was opulently attired. Tonight he wore a doublet of thick fir-green wool slashed to reveal silk of holly berry crimson.
"Your legion of pickpockets was competing with your corps of beggars," Jewel expounded. The ageless thief had traded her traveling leathers for a graceful velvet gown the same dusk-purple hue as her eyes. "All too often your beggars were wasting time groveling before people who had already had their purses lifted."
"It was terribly inefficient," Cormik chided, adjusting his jeweled eye patch. "Under the new plan, the beggars approach a target first. If the mark doesn't cough up some gold out of pity, the pickpockets move in to take it from him. It's really a much more elegant solution."
"And we doubled the profits from both beggars and pickpockets," Jewel added. The matriarch of the Talondin clan reached out and patted her grandson's hand affectionately. "I'm so glad you've decided to move your operations to Iriaebor, love. Cormik and I really have so much more to teach you."
"That's right, Ferret." Cormik pressed his cheek to Jewel's. "And now that I'm part of the family, you can be certain I'll be checking up on you with great regularity."
Ferret rolled his beady eyes. "Lucky me," he said sourly.
Everyone ignored him.
With a puff of wintry air, Jolle came in from outside bearing an armful of firewood. The stout halfling stamped the snow from his boots and proceeded to build the fire into a cheerful blaze. Pog and Nog ran shrieking through the common room. The tiny halfling children were engaged in some game that only they could comprehend. Estah bustled in from the kitchen bearing a huge tray of steaming honey rolls. The red-cheeked halfling plunked the tray onto the table and stood, hands on hips. "All right, Tyveris," she said sternly, "I defy you to fin-ish off a third platter."
The bespectacled monk looked up from his pewter plate and grinned. Tyveris had managed to steal away from his duties in the High Tower for the evening. "Well now, that's a challenge I really can't refuse," the big Chultan said with a laugh. He picked up a sticky honey roll in each hand and promptly began to devour the entire platter as Estah watched with a mixture of chagrin and amazement. The battle between Estah's cooking ability and Tyveris's appetite had been going on for a decade now with little indication of a truce in sight. Booming laughter rang out. The others turned in surprise. It was Caledan.
As always these days, he had sat quietly at the end of the table nearest the fire, neatly clad in his slate blue tunic with a fine wool blanket around his shoulders. Now he was laughing. The others stared in amazement. Since they had returned from their journey over a month ago, Caledan had smiled often enough, but he had not laughed once. Now he was laughing so hard his shoulders shook. Abruptly, his laughter turned into coughing that racked his body. As one, the others leapt from their chairs. Mari and Ferret were first to Caledan's side. They eased him back in his chair, and Estah hurriedly brought a steaming cup of herb tea. Caledan managed to gulp some down, and his coughing ceased. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, and it came away with a smear of blood. The others looked on in concern.
"I've spoiled the fun," he said huskily. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Mari said fiercely.
He gave her a grateful look, then testily waved the others away. "I'm all right. Really. Now, don't we a celebration to get ready for?" After that, the merriment continued, though more subdued than before.
At last it grew late. Estah and Jolle went upstairs to put Pog and Nog to bed. Tyveris bid his farewell, followed by Ferret, Jewel, and Cormik. All of them promised