The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [105]
“I know it was wrong of me to go through his things, my lords, but I was so frightened. I don’t know why he got my wind up so badly, my lords, but he just did, and here were me and Mam all alone with him and all.”
“Oh, you did the right thing, lass,” Nevyn said. “No doubt about that. Captain, go fetch a couple of your lads and meet us down by the front gate, will you? I think we’d best take this Merryc under arrest.”
“He really is an evil sorcerer?” Glomer squeaked.
“He is. What’s this?” Nevyn smiled at her. “You didn’t truly believe it yourself before now, did you?”
She shook her head no and realized that she felt very weak and strange inside. Nevyn poured a swallow of mead into a goblet from a pitcher on the table and insisted she choke the fiery stuff down. Once she stopped coughing, she felt much better.
“Very well, lass. You take me and the captain to your mother’s tavern, and then leave the rest to us. I’ll see you get a reward for your sharp eyes, too.”
“Oh please, my lord.” Here was the crux of her plan, and Glomer arranged a humble smile. “All I’d truly want for a reward is a job here in the dun. I’m good at waiting on tables and washing pots and suchlike.”
“Indeed? Well then, I’ve no doubt I can get you one. Now let’s go put our stoat of a sorcerer into his cage.”
On his way out, Cullyn stopped by the armory and got a pair of stout leather thongs, then went on to the great hall and rounded up Amyr and Praedd, who’d been dicing for straws over their morning tankards of ale. He took them down to the main gates, where Nevyn and the lass from town were already waiting.
“We want this to be quiet, like,” the old man said. “If you can manage it anyway, captain.”
“Oh, I think we can trick him, my lord. A peddler, is he? Everyone knows they’re the first ones suspected if somewhat’s been stolen.” He turned to the girl. “Think he’ll be in your tavern when we get there?”
“He should be. My mam always serves a meal about now.”
When they reached the street of the Three Swans, Cullyn left the girl with Nevyn by the public well, then sent Praedd, a strong and beefy sort, round to the tavern’s back door while he and Amyr walked in the front. There was a fair amount of custom in the smokey room: a tableful of sailors drinking by the door, a couple of longshoremen eating bread and bacon by the hearth and jesting with a gray-haired woman who already looked drawn and pale with exhaustion, here an hour before noon. At a table by himself was the man who fit the description that Glomer had given. As soon as he saw two of the regent’s men come in the front door, the fellow got up and started for the back—only to find it filled with Praedd, who clamped his massive hands onto the fellow’s shoulders and held him while the captain made his way over. The longshoremen snickered and the sailors all leaned forward to get a better look.
“Come along, lad,” Cullyn said. “A merchant over on the street of goldsmiths says someone walked off with some trinkets of his.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Merryc snarled. “I know a stranger always gets blamed for every cursed thing that goes wrong, but I didn’t take anything from anyone.”
“I’ll just be asking you a few questions. Come along nice and peaceful like, and you’ll be back here by dinnertime.”
Merryc allowed himself to be shoved out the back door. Although he snarled and swore when Cullyn bound his hands behind his back, he did little else to put up a fuss, at least at first.
“All right, Amyr. Go fetch Nevyn, and then go upstairs with the old man to get this fellow’s gear.”
Merryc howled and threw himself to one side, kicking out, desperately trying to twist free of Pratdd’s hands, writhing and squeaking like a rat in a terrier’s jaws until Cullyn drew his sword, reversed it, and knocked him hard over the head with the hilt. Praedd laid the unconscious man down on the ground and knelt to bind his ankles together.
“When you’re done, go ask those longshoremen if they want to earn a couple of coppers,” Cullyn