Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [20]
“Trust your instincts,” Ehomba advised him.
“I would, if I were dealing with three women instead of three locks. Metal gives you no clues.” Taking a deep breath, he prepared to ease the tip of the small blade into the middle keyhole. “Might as well try here as anywhere else.”
“A good choice. Your friend is right, swordsman. You have excellent instincts.”
Whirling, they found themselves confronted by a wide-awake Haramos bin Grue. The trader was standing before an open portal where none had appeared to exist. He had gained entrance to the storeroom via a secret door set in a blank wall, a not uncommon conceit of suspicious merchants. In one hand he held a small lamp that threw a halo of light around him. That their nocturnal visit had caught him by surprise was proven by the fact that he stood there in his elegant one-piece sleeping gown. The fingers of his left hand were curled tightly around some small object. On his right shoulder, chittering away as madly as any pet parrot, was the scruffy, naked-tailed rat Simna had nearly tripped over in the outer offices.
As Simna continued to fumble with the lock, a solemn-faced Ehomba turned to step between him and the trader. Oblivious to the strained confrontation, the black litah slept on.
“We have come for our friend,” the herdsman explained quietly.
“Have you now?” Bin Grue was not smiling. “In the middle of the night, by breaking into my rooms?”
“A thief has no claim on the protection of the law.”
Now the merchant did smile, a slight parting of the lips that was devoid of humor. “I thought you were an expert on cow dung. Now I see that you are secretly a philosopher.”
“What I am does not matter. Unlock the enclosure and let our companion go.”
“The exceptional cat is my property. I already have three potential buyers bidding against one another for the rights to it. Their agitation as they frantically drive up the price is wonderful to behold. Naturally you must understand I could not give him back to you now.” He gestured with the lamp, making the only source of real light in the room dance according to his whim. “Why so much concern over the fate of a mere animal? So it speaks the language of men. A good horse is more valuable, and I have yet to encounter one that can speak even a single word.”
“Do not be so quick to judge value until you have talked to the horse,” the herdsman replied calmly. “I was not so concerned for the litah as you think. In fact, as my friend can attest, I would have left him to his fate but for one thing.”
Bin Grue was listening intently. “What one thing?”
In the uneasy shadows Ehomba’s dark eyes might have glittered ever so slightly with a light that was not a reflection of the trader’s lamp. “You tried to have us killed.”
Bin Grue did his best to shrug off the accusation. “That was Moleshohn’s doing.”
“Some men are easier to take the measure of than others. The All-Knowing would not have taken that step without your direction, or at least your approval.”
“I deny having given it, and having denied it, I offer my apology if you insist on believing otherwise.” He smiled broadly, encouragingly. “Come now, herdsman. Why should we let something that reeks mightily and sprays indiscriminately come between us? Allow me to bribe you. I will cut you a fair piece of the action. Why not? There will be plenty to satisfy all. Consent with me, and I promise that you both will leave Lybondai with new clothing, sturdy mounts, and money in your pockets. What say you?”
“I say—that these clothes suit me fine, and that I will not shake the hand of one who acceded in trying to have me murdered.” Behind him, Simna’s fingers flew over iron as the agitated swordsman tried to work faster. But the bloated padlock was proving as obstinate as a teenage daughter refused permission to attend the annual Fair of Crisola the Procreant.
On the trader’s shoulder, the watchrat crouched low, digging its tiny claws into the material of bin Grue’s sleeping gown. The merchant’s smile vanished. “I’m sorry to hear that, lover of sheep dags.