debt has nothing to do with money. A long time ago, some church soldiers were hanging you. My father stopped them.’
Platime blinked. ‘You’re Sparhawk?’ he said in surprise. ‘You don’t look that much like your father.’
‘It’s his nose,’ Kalten said. ‘When you break a man’s nose, you change his whole appearance. Why were the soldiers hanging you?’
‘It was all a misunderstanding. I knifed a fellow. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, so I didn’t know he was an officer in the primate’s guard.’ He looked disgusted. ‘And all he had in his purse were two silver coins and a handful of copper.’
‘Do you acknowledge the debt?’ Sparhawk pressed.
Platime pulled at his coarse black beard. ‘I guess I do,’ he admitted.
‘We’ll stay here, then.’
‘That’s all you want?’
‘Not quite. We’re looking for a man – a fellow named Krager. Your beggars are all over town, and I want them to look for him.’
‘Fair enough. Can you describe him?’
‘I can do better than that. I can show him to you.’
‘That doesn’t exactly make sense, friend.’
‘It will in a minute. Have you got a basin of some kind – and some clean water?’
‘I think I can manage that. What have you got in mind?’
‘He’s going to make an image of Krager’s face in the water,’ Kalten said. ‘It’s an old trick.’
Platime looked impressed. ‘I’ve heard that you Pandions are all wizards, but I’ve never seen anything like that before.’
‘Sparhawk’s better at it than I am,’ Kalten admitted.
One of the beggars furnished a chipped basin filled with slightly cloudy water. Sparhawk set the basin on the floor and concentrated for a moment, muttering the Styric words of the spell under his breath. Then he passed his hand slowly over the basin, and Krager’s puffy-looking face appeared.
‘Now that is really something to see,’ Platime marvelled.
‘It’s not too difficult,’ Sparhawk said modestly. ‘Have your people here look at it. I can’t keep it there forever.’
‘How long can you hold it?’
‘Ten minutes or so. It starts to break up after that.’
‘Talen!’ the fat man shouted. ‘Come here.’
A grubby-looking boy of about ten slouched across the room. His tunic was ragged and dirty, but he wore a long, red satin waistcoat that had been fashioned by cutting the sleeves off a doublet. There were several knife-holes in it. ‘What do you want?’ he asked insolently.
‘Can you copy that?’ Platime asked, pointing at the basin.
‘Of course I can, but why should I?’
‘Because I’ll box your ears if you don’t.’
Talen grinned at him. ‘You’d have to catch me first, fat man, and I can run faster than you can.’
Sparhawk dug a finger into a pocket of his leather jerkin and took out a small silver coin. ‘Would this make it worth your while?’ he asked, holding up the coin.
Talen’s eyes brightened. ‘For that, I’ll give you a masterpiece,’ he promised.
‘All we want is accuracy.’
‘Whatever you say, my patron.’ Talen bowed mockingly. ‘I’ll go and get my things.’
‘Is he really any good?’ Kalten asked Platime after the boy had scurried over to one of the cots lining the wall.
Platime shrugged. ‘I’m not an art critic,’ he said. ‘He spends all his time drawing pictures, though – when he isn’t begging or stealing.’
‘Isn’t he a little young for your line of work?’
Platime laughed. ‘He’s got the nimblest fingers in Cimmura,’ he said. ‘He could steal your eyes right out of their sockets, and you wouldn’t even miss them until you went to look closely at something.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Kalten said.
‘It could be too late, my friend. Weren’t you wearing a ring when you came in?’
Kalten blinked, then raised his blood-stained left hand and stared at it. There was no ring on the hand.
Kalten winced. ‘Easy, Sparhawk,’ he said. ‘That really hurts.’
‘It has to be cleaned before I can bandage it,’ Sparhawk replied, continuing to wipe the cut on his friend’s side with a wine-soaked cloth.
‘But do you have to do it so hard?’
Platime waddled around the smoky fire pit and stood over the cot where Kalten lay. ‘Is he going to be all right?’ he asked.
‘Probably,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He’s had the blood let out of him a few times before, and he usually recovers.’ He laid aside the cloth and picked up a long strip of linen. ‘Sit up,’ he told his friend.
Kalten grunted and pushed himself into a sitting position. Sparhawk began to wind the strip about his waist.
‘Not so tight,’ Kalten said. ‘I have to be able to breathe.’
‘Quit complaining.’
‘Were those church soldiers after you for any particular reason?’ Platime asked. ‘Or were they just amusing themselves?’
‘They had reasons,’ Sparhawk told him as he knotted Kalten’s bandage. ‘We’ve managed to be fairly offensive to Primate Annias lately.’
‘Good for you. I don’t know how you noblemen feel about him, but the common people all hate him.’
‘We moderately despise him.’
‘That’s one thing we all have in common then. Is there any chance that Queen Ehlana might recover?’
‘We’re working on that.’
Platime sighed. ‘I think she’s our only hope, Sparhawk. Otherwise Annias is going to run Elenia to suit himself, and that would really be too bad.’
‘Patriotism, Platime?’ Kalten asked.
‘Just because I’m a thief and a murderer doesn’t mean that
