Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [131]
“Very well,” he said at last. “I’m in the market for a particular opal, as big as a walnut but perfectly polished. Now don’t try to tell me you haven’t heard of it. These things spread around.”
“So they do, and I won’t lie to you. The last I heard, it was in Yr Auddglyn. If it was anywhere in Cwm Pecl, I’d know, and it’s not. I wouldn’t mind having a look at it myself.”
Again the stranger hesitated, glancing round him with his driven eyes. For all that he was keeping himself tightly under control, Jill could feel the trace of fear in him, feel it so clearly that she knew he’d made some kind of bond between them when he’d stared into her eyes. She felt as revolted as if she’d reached into a nest of spiders.
“Now, listen, you,” he said to Ogwern. “It has to be on its way to Dun Hiraedd. When it comes through, you get your fat paws on it, and you sell it to me. I’ll pay you well, but I’m the man who gets it, or you die. Do you understand?”
“My good sir! All I’d want from it would be the profit, and since that’s what you offer me, you’ll have it for sure. No need to threaten.”
“You might well be approached by someone else. Understand? Sell it to anyone but me, and I’ll cut you open and trim out some of that lard while you beg me to let you die.”
The calm way he spoke made it clear the threat was no idle one. His jowls trembling in terror, Ogwern nodded agreement.
“I’ll return every now and then to see if you have it. Save it for me. It should be soon.”
The stranger contemptuously turned his back and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Bocc tried to speak, but only gulped.
“By all the hells,” Ogwern whispered. “Did I truly see that?”
“I’m afraid you did,” Jill said. “I hope he’s not staying at the Running Fox. I don’t want to go back only to find him in the tavern room.”
“We’ll find that out easily enough. Bocc, take a couple of the lads. Don’t risk following the bastard; just ask around.”
“Someone must have seen him,” Bocc said. “I’ll wager he stands out in a crowd.”
With a couple of friends, Bocc left by the back window. Ogwern sighed and contemplated the remains of the fowl.
“I’ve quite lost my appetite,” he said. “Do you fancy a bit of this, Jill?”
“None, my thanks. It’s a marvel and a half if you’re not hungry.”
“Kindly don’t be rude.” He laid his hand over his injured heart and sheathed his dagger with the same gesture. “A man can take only so many insults. Lard? Hah!”
It was over an hour before a more than usually furtive Bocc returned. His face was quite pale as he told Ogwern that search as they might, he and the lads had found no trace of the stranger.
“Are you daft?” Ogwern sputtered. “Dun Hiraedd’s not very big.”
“I know, but he isn’t here, and no one ever saw him come in or nothing. And here’s the cursed strangest thing. We caught one glimpse of him, walking toward the city wall. Then he turned down an alley and just seemed to melt away somehow. Da, I swear it! He just disappeared.”
“Oh, by the pink asses of the gods,” Ogwern said feebly. “Let us pray that this jewel turns up soon so we can take his wretched gold and be done with him.”
Soon after, Jill went back to her inn. She walked quickly, keeping close to buildings and looking constantly around her, pausing at the door to make sure that the stranger wasn’t waiting for her before she went inside. Once she was up in her chamber, she barred door and shutters alike from the inside. Although she slept with her sword beside her on the floor, nothing disturbed her but her dreams, which were full of severed heads, dark caves, and the eyes of the stranger, glaring at her.
Rhodry passed that same day in a fury of impatience. There was Jill, off alone and in danger, and here was he, honor bound to play nursemaid to a wounded merchant and his stinking mules. Since he’d given his word to Seryl that he’d escort them to the city, he saw no alternative but to stay with him until he was fit to ride. Toward noon the wounded bandit died. Rhodry helped bury him just to have something to pass his time. Finally,