Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [97]
“You’re a bad man.”
“Perhaps, but I’m good at it. So that makes me a good bad man.” Behind him, the wagons were trundling off in the direction of the central city.
Frowning, she looked up at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes it does. You’ll understand when you’re older. My, but you’re a pretty little thing. Maybe I’ll come and visit you later.”
“No!” she responded emphatically.
“You have your father’s spirit—but I won’t hold that against you.” He leaned a little farther out of the saddle. “May I see that little toy, please? Where did you get it?”
She turned to point. “A nice man gave it to me. He was funny-looking.”
Bisgrath followed her outstretched arm, but there was no sign of the untidy foreigners. They had disappeared northward. “An exotic artifact. Perhaps from very far away. How interesting. The carving is very well done. I have quite a collection of art myself, and I have never seen anything exactly like it.” He extended his hand. “Let me see it.”
“No.” Clutching the dolly in both hands, she pulled away from his reaching fingers.
Pouting, he withdrew his hand. “I just want to look at it. If you let me look at it, I’ll give you back some of the things the soldiers took.”
Hesitantly, she unfolded her fingers and looked long and hard at the carving. Then she reached out and up and handed it to him. He turned it over in his fingers, admiring the exquisite detail and the play of light over the lustrous black surface.
“It’s more accomplished than I thought. Thank you, child.” Jerking on Rune’s reins, he turned to go.
Behind him, the girl started screaming. “Give it back! You promised, you promised!”
“Something else you’ll understand when you’re older,” he called back to her. He slipped the fine carving into a jacket pocket, wishing the girl’s mother would take charge of her spawn and shut her up. He disliked screaming. But the mother was in no condition to help her child or anyone else.
He parted with the main body of soldiers after congratulating them on a morning’s work well done, and not before slipping a little something extra into the palm of the officer in charge. Leaving them to make their way into the city with the larger of the two booty-laden wagons, he turned to escort the other down a different road entirely.
Capable hands were waiting to unload, as stone-faced servants responded to his return. None smiled at his success, none offered a cheery greeting as he dismounted and climbed the steps that led into the great hall. Those who worked for the Proctor did not smile in his presence lest their expression be misinterpreted. By keeping his staff intimidated, Bisgrath felt he insured their loyalty. It was harder to steal from a master you feared than from one you thought of as harmless.
Lunch awaited and, much to the relief of the kitchen staff and servers, was pronounced satisfactory by the Proctor. As he left the dining room, Bisgrath mentally totaled the profit he would accrue from the morning’s exertions. A good day’s work all around, he decided.
Entering the library, he pondered a number of possible sites for the exotic carving. There were several empty alcoves that would serve to highlight its luster, and a place on the main reading table already crowded with fine lapidary work. In the end he decided to stand his newest acquisition on the inlaid reading table by his favorite chair, where he could admire it frequently until, as he always did, he grew bored by it and sought a fresh replacement.
Putting on his reading glasses and settling himself into the chair, he selected one of several massive ledgers from a low table nearby and opened it on his lap. Since things had gone so smoothly this morning, he had all afternoon in which to ferret out the next subject for persecution. Or rather, he mused as he smiled inwardly, the next blatant violator of the Kingdom of Bondressey’s far too lenient tax laws. Afternoon light pouring through the high, beveled glass windows allowed him to read the fine scrawl without strain.
In this pleasant and relaxed fashion he passed the better