The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [17]
Hekkel was small for his size. Most people not used to children often thought he was a child of seven or eight years. At least, they did until they saw the hardness in his eyes. Still, the man almost hit Hekkel when the boy dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms around the man's legs.
"Please!" Hekkel cried plaintively. "I think she's dying!"
"Here now," the man said. "Get up from there. You need to see someone who can do your mother some good. I'm just a traveler. I've no experience at healing. I'm a scribe."
Carefully, Cerril reached for the window ledge of the cobbler's shop beside him. Hundreds of years of masonry held Alaghфn together. Dozens of styles held sway in the city, and they created a rambling disorder to Alaghфn that provided any number of dead-end streets and orphaned blocks. The mortar of the older buildings was also in a state of disrepair, often crumbling when jostled.
Cerril raked a finger between the stones that made up the window ledge. The mortar broke up easily and he slipped a stone as big as both his fists from the ledge. A half-dozen others were already missing. He threw himself at the man, running quickly.
The man, distracted by Hekkel's caterwauling, didn't hear Cerril's approach until it was too late. Cerril brought the stone around in a hard-knuckled right hand just as the man looked up at him.
The stone caught the man on the side of the head. His eyes turned glassy and he slumped.
Cerril caught the man by his shirt collar and struggled with his slight weight. He stumbled.
"Help me, damn you!" he swore at Hekkel.
"Did you kill him?"
Hekkel released the man's legs and stood, gazing at their victim's slack face. "No," Cerril said.
He glanced around the street, wanting to make sure no one had seen them. The guards around the docks were pretty lax. For one, the black market paid handsomely, funneled through the Thieves Guild. And for another, men desperate to turn a profit often had no hesitation about killing a guardsman.
"I've got him," Two-Fingers said, joining Cerril.
Two-Fingers caught one of the man's arms and draped it over his broad shoulders. He shifted most of the unconscious man's weight onto him. Cerril grabbed the man's other arm. Together they walked the man into the nearest alley.
The thoroughfare was long and narrow. The scant moonlight didn't even penetrate. They laid the man on the ground. Cerril searched under the man's blouse with practiced fingers and quickly found the small but heavy pouch at the man's waist.
Gold! The thought flooded Cerril's mind when he felt the heft of it. He opened the pouch and poured the coins into his waiting palm.
"Tymora's smile," Hekkel swore softly, voice filled with excitement. "We did all right for ourselves tonight."
Even in the darkness, Cerril could see the dull glint of gold among the coins. His questing fingers found the biggest of them and drew it forth. It was solid, round, and heavy.
"Gold," he whispered.
"I never seen anything like that," Two-Fingers said.
Cerril scowled at him. "Alaghфn gets coins from all around the Sea of Fallen Stars. There's probably lots of coins you haven't seen."
He flipped the coin over. The face held the image of a great, snarling, catlike beast with flattened ears and a mouthful of fangs. The obverse showed a taloned, bestial claw in bold relief. The image caused Cerril's stomach to turn cold.
"Do you recognize it, boy?" a scratchy, weak voice asked.
"Damn it!" one of the other boys swore. "Cerril didn't kill him after all."
"Get a rock," another boy suggested. "Smash his head in! I don't want him identifying us for the guard."
"No." Cerril's voice cut through their fear. He crept closer to the man, feeling something dark and powerful touching him through the cool gold. He held the coin up. "What is this?"
"Do you recognize it?" the man challenged.
Cerril didn't answer. Sometimes it was better to let things go unanswered.
"Of course he does," Hekkel snapped. "That coin represents Malar. The