station ourselves outside the door and beg until he shows up.’ The boy paused. ‘Are you going to kill him?’ he asked. ‘And if you are, can I watch?’
‘No. I just want to ask him a few questions.’
‘Oh.’ Talen’s voice sounded a little disappointed.
It was raining harder now, and Sparhawk’s cloak had begun to drip down the backs of his bare legs.
They reached Lion Street and turned left. ‘The brothel’s just up ahead,’ Talen said, tugging Sparhawk along by the corner of his dripping cloak. Then he stopped suddenly.
‘What’s the matter?’ Sparhawk asked him.
‘Competition,’ Talen replied. ‘There’s a one-legged man leaning against the wall beside the door.’
‘Begging?’
‘What else?’
‘Now what?’
‘It’s no particular problem. I’ll just tell him to move on.’
‘Will he do it?’
Talen nodded. ‘He will when I tell him that we’ve rented the spot from Platime. Wait here. I’ll be right back.’
The boy crutched his way up the rainy street to the red-painted brothel door and spoke briefly with the one-legged beggar stationed there. The man glared at him for a moment, then his leg miraculously unfolded out from under his rough smock and he stalked off, carrying his crutch and muttering to himself. Talen came back down the street and led Sparhawk to the door of the brothel. ‘Just lean against the wall and hold the bowl out when somebody comes by. Don’t hold it right in front of them, though. You’re not supposed to be able to see them, so sort of stick it off to one side.’
A prosperous-looking merchant came by with his head down and his dark cloak wrapped tightly about him. Sparhawk thrust out his bowl. ‘Charity,’ he said in a pleading tone of voice.
The merchant ignored him.
‘Not too bad,’ Talen said. ‘Try to put that little catch I mentioned in your voice, though.’
‘Is that why he didn’t put anything in the bowl?’
‘No. Merchants never do.’
‘Oh.’
Several workmen dressed in leather smocks came along the street. They were talking loudly and were a bit unsteady on their feet.
‘Charity,’ Sparhawk said to them.
Talen sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘Please, good masters,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘Can you help my poor blind father and me?’
‘Why not?’ one of the workmen said good-humouredly. He fished around in one of his pockets, drew out a few coins, and looked at them. Then he selected one small copper and dropped it into Sparhawk’s bowl.
One of the others sniggered. ‘He’s trying to get enough together to go in and visit the girls,’ he said.
‘That’s his business, isn’t it?’ the generous one replied as they went on down the street.
‘First blood,’ Talen said. ‘Put the copper in your pocket. We don’t want the bowl to have too many coins in it.’
In the next hour, Sparhawk and his youthful instructor picked up about a dozen more coins. It became challenging after the first few times, and Sparhawk felt a small surge of triumph each time he managed to wheedle a coin out of a passer-by.
Then an ornate carriage drawn by a matched pair of black horses came up the street and stopped in front of the red door. A liveried young footman jumped down from the back, lowered a step from the side of the vehicle, and opened the door. A nobleman dressed all in green velvet stepped out. Sparhawk knew him.
‘I may be a while, love,’ the nobleman said, fondly touching the footman’s boyish face. ‘Take the carriage up the street and watch for me.’ He giggled girlishly. ‘Someone might recognize it, and I certainly wouldn’t want people to think I was frequenting a place like this.’ He rolled his eyes and then minced towards the red door.
‘Charity for the blind,’ Sparhawk begged, thrusting out his bowl.
‘Out of my way, knave,’ the nobleman said, fluttering one hand as if shooing away a bothersome fly. He opened the door and went inside as the carriage moved off.
‘Peculiar,’ Sparhawk murmured.
‘Wasn’t he, though?’ Talen grinned.
‘Now that’s a sight I thought I’d never see – the Baron Harparin going into a brothel.’
‘Noblemen get urges, too, don’t they?’
‘Harparin gets urges, all right, but I don’t think the girls inside would satisfy them. He might find you interesting, though.’
Talen flushed. ‘Never mind that,’ he said.
Sparhawk frowned. ‘Why would Harparin go into the same brothel where Krager’s staying?’ he mused.
‘Do they know each other?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. Harparin’s a member of the Royal Council and a close friend of the Primate Annias. Krager’s a third-rate toad. If they’re meeting in there, I’d give a great deal to hear what they’re saying.’
‘Go on in, then.’
‘What?’
‘It’s a public place, and blind men need affection, too. Just don’t start any fights.’ Talen looked around cautiously. ‘Once you get inside, ask for Naween. She works for Platime on the side. Tell her that he sent you. She’ll get you to someplace where you can eavesdrop.’
‘Does Platime control the whole city?’
‘Only the underside of it. Annias runs the top half.’
‘Are you going in with me?’
Talen shook his head. ‘Shanda’s got a twisted sense of morality. She doesn’t allow children inside – not male ones, anyway.’
‘Shanda?’
‘The madame of this place.’
‘I probably should have guessed. Krager’s mistress is named Shanda – thin woman?’
Talen nodded. ‘With a very sour mouth?’
‘That’s her.’
‘Does she know you?’
‘We met once about twelve years ago.’
‘The bandage hides most of your face, and the light inside isn’t too good. You should be able to get by if you change
