leave that here,’ Platime told him. ‘You can hide a dagger under the cloak, but a broadsword’s a little too obvious.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Sparhawk pulled out his sword and handed it to the fat man in the orange doublet. ‘Don’t lose it,’ he said. Then he began to practise the blind man’s groping walk, tapping the long, slender stick Talen had given him on the floor as he went.
‘Not too bad,’ Platime said after several minutes. ‘You pick things up fast, Sparhawk. It ought to be good enough to get you by. Talen can teach you how to beg as you go along.’
Talen came back from the large wooden storage box. His left leg looked grotesquely twisted, and he limped along with the aid of a crutch. He had removed his gaudy waistcoat, and he was now dressed in rags.
‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ Sparhawk asked, pointing at the boy’s leg with his stick.
‘Not much. All you have to do is walk on the side of your foot and turn your knee in.’
‘It looks very convincing.’
‘Naturally. I’ve had a lot of practice.’
‘Are you both ready then?’ Platime asked.
‘Probably as ready as we’ll ever be,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very good at begging, though.’
‘Talen can teach you the basics. It’s not too hard. Good luck, Sparhawk.’
‘Thanks. I might need it.’
It was the middle of a grey rainy morning when Sparhawk and his young guide emerged from the cellar and started back down the muddy alleyway. Sef was once again standing watch in a recessed doorway. He did not speak to them as they passed.
When they reached the street, Talen took hold of the corner of Sparhawk’s cloak and led him along by it. Sparhawk groped his way behind him, his stick tapping the cobblestones.
‘There are several ways to beg,’ the boy said after they had gone a short distance. ‘Some prefer just to sit and hold out the begging bowl. That doesn’t bring in too many coins, though – unless you do it outside a church on a day when the sermon’s been about charity. Some people like to shove the bowl into the face of everybody who walks by. You get more coins that way, but sometimes it irritates people, and every so often you’ll get punched in the face. You’re supposed to be blind, so we’ll have to work out something a little different.’
‘Do I have to say anything?’
Talen nodded. ‘You’ve got to get their attention. “Charity” is usually good enough. You don’t have time for long speeches, and people don’t like to talk with beggars anyway. If somebody decides to give you something, he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible. Make your voice sound hopeless. Whining isn’t all that good, but try to put a little catch in your voice – as if you were just about to cry.’
‘Begging’s quite an art, isn’t it?’
Talen shrugged. ‘It’s just selling something, that’s all. But you’ve got to do all the selling with just one or two words, so put your heart in it. Do you have any coppers with you?’
‘Unless you’ve stolen them already. Why?’
‘When we get to the brothel, you’ll need to bait the bowl. Drop in a couple of coppers to make it look as if you’ve already got something.’
‘I don’t quite follow what you’ve got in mind.’
‘You want to wait for this Krager to come out, don’t you? If you go in after him, you’re likely to run into the bruisers who keep order in the place.’ He looked Sparhawk up and down. ‘You might be able to deal with them at that, but that sort of thing gets noisy, and the madame would probably send for the watch. It’s usually better just to wait outside.’
‘All right. I suppose we’ll wait then.’
‘We’ll 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
