The Diamond Throne

‘At least she’s getting some rest. From what I hear, the Princess Arissa was a very busy young woman.’ He straightened and pointed at a nearby cot. ‘You can use that one,’ he told Sparhawk. ‘I’ve got every thief and beggar in Cimmura out looking for this Krager fellow of yours. If he sets foot in the streets, we’ll know about it within an hour. In the meantime, you might as well get some sleep.’

Sparhawk nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Kalten.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Do you need anything?’

‘How about some beer – just to restore all the blood I lost, of course.’

It was impossible to tell what time it was since the cellar had no windows. Sparhawk felt a light touch and came awake immediately, catching the hand that had touched him.

The grubby-looking boy, Talen, made a sour face. ‘Never try to pick a pocket when you’re shivering,’ he said. He mopped the rain out of his face. ‘It’s really a miserable morning out there,’ he added.

‘Were you looking for anything in particular in my pockets?’

‘No, not really – just anything that might turn up.’

‘Would you like to give me back my friend’s ring?’

‘Oh, I suppose so. I only took it to keep in practice anyway.’ Talen reached inside the wet tunic and drew out Kalten’s ring. ‘I cleaned the blood off it for him,’ he said, admiring it.

‘He’ll appreciate that.’

‘Oh, by the way, I found that fellow you were looking for.’

‘Krager? Where?’

‘He’s staying in a brothel in Lion Street.’

‘A brothel?’

‘Maybe he needs affection.’

Sparhawk sat up. He touched his horsehair beard to make sure it was still in place. ‘Let’s go talk to Platime.’

‘Do you want me to wake your friend?’

‘Let him sleep. I’m not going to take him out in the rain in his condition anyway.’

Platime was snoring in his chair, but his eyes opened instantly when Talen touched his shoulder.

‘The boy found Krager,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘You’re going after him, I suppose?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘Do you think the primate’s soldiers are still looking for you?’

‘Probably.’

‘And they know what you look like?’

‘Yes.’

‘You won’t get very far then.’

‘I’ll have to chance it.’

‘Platime,’ Talen said.

‘What?’

‘Do you remember that time when we had to get Weasel out of town in a hurry?’

Platime grunted, scratching at his paunch and looking speculatively at Sparhawk. ‘How much are you attached to that beard?’ he asked.

‘Not too much. Why?’

‘If you’d be willing to shave it off, I know a way you might be able to move around Cimmura without being recognized.’

Sparhawk began pulling off chunks of the false beard.

Platime laughed. ‘You really aren’t attached to it, are you?’ He looked at Talen. ‘Go and get what he’ll need out of the bin.’

Talen went to a large wooden box in the corner of the cellar and started rummaging around inside as Sparhawk finished removing the beard. When the boy came back, he was carrying a ragged-looking cloak and a pair of shoes that were little more than rotting leather bags.

‘How much of the rest of your face will come off?’ Platime asked.

Sparhawk took the ragged cloak from Talen and poured some of Platime’s wine on one corner. Then he vigorously scrubbed his face, removing the remnants of Sephrenia’s glue and the purple scar.

‘The nose?’ Platime asked.

‘No. That’s real.’

‘How did it get broken?’

‘It’s a long story.’

Platime shrugged. ‘Take off your boots and those leather breeches. You’ll wear the cloak and those shoes.’

Sparhawk pulled off his boots and peeled off the leather hose. Talen draped the cloak around him, then pulled one corner across the front and fastened it to the opposite shoulder so that it covered Sparhawk’s body and reached about haltway to his knees.

Platime squinted at him. ‘Put on the shoes and rub some dirt on your legs. You look a bit too clean.’ Talen went back to the bin and returned with a scuffed leather cap, a long, slender stick and a length of dirty sackcloth.

‘Put on the cap and tie the rag across your eyes,’ Platime instructed.

Sparhawk did that.

‘Can you see well enough through the bandage?’

‘I can make things out, but that’s about all.’

‘I don’t want you to see too well. You’re supposed to be blind. Get him a begging bowl, Talen.’ Platime turned back to Sparhawk. ‘Practise walking around a bit. Swing the stick in front of you, but bump into things from time to time and don’t forget to stumble.’

‘It’s an interesting idea, Platime, but I know exactly where I’m going. Won’t that make people suspicious?’

‘Talen will lead you. You’ll just be a pair of ordinary beggars.’

Sparhawk hitched up his belt and shifted his broadsword around.

‘You’re going to have to 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 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 your voice a bit. Go on in. I’ll stay out here and keep watch. I know every policeman and spy in Cimmura by sight.’

‘All right.’

‘Have you got the price for a girl? I can lend you some if you need it. Shanda won’t let you see any of her whores unless you pay her first.’

‘I can manage it – unless you’ve picked my pocket again.’

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