Shadow Prowler

Of course, I steal other people’s property, but I have to pay the informant out of my own pocket, with the gold I receive for the sale of those items. I’m not exactly a skinflint, but even so, being left with fifteen gold pieces instead of twenty is rather a

“Have you heard that milord Patin up and died all of a sudden two days ago?” Gozmo asked apropos of nothing as he wiped the beer mugs. He seemed not to notice my sullen expression.

“Really?” I said, expressing my seemingly genuine amazement at the unexpected departure from this life of the duke, who had the strength of all the plow horses in Valiostr and Zagorie combined.

“Yes, yes. They found him with his throat torn out. And the garrinch that guarded his treasure was scratching itself and taking no notice of anybody.”

“Really?” I asked again, completely astonished. “Who would ever have thought there was a garrinch in there? Nobody ever mentioned that to me.”

The i

“The usual for you, is it?”

“Yes. Is my table free?”

Gozmo nodded, and I set off past some drunken crooks who were bawling and yelling about something or other, past the seminaked girl singing on the stage, toward the far corner of the large room. I sat down with my back to the wall, facing the entrance to the establishment. Well, I can’t help it, it’s a habit developed over the years.

Immediately, as if by magic, a mug of porter and a plate of meat appeared in front of me. I should tell you that Gozmo’s chef was sometimes visited by genuine inspiration, and at those moments he cooked every bit as well as the lads in the aristocrats’ kitchens. The food and drink were brought by a delightful little serving wench, who winked merrily at me but, catching sight of my perpetual scowl, she snorted and retreated to the kitchen, wiggling her backside angrily and drawing admiring glances from the crooks sitting at the neighboring tables.

I, however, had no time for her undeniable charms right now. The whole city was seething. It was time for me to lie low.

A peasant could live well on fifteen gold pieces for almost a whole year, but it wasn’t a very large sum for me, and I really had to give up working for the next few months. If I was unlucky, someone might just link the duke’s death to the disappearance of the statuette, and the hunt would be on for all thieves everywhere in Avendoom. And then they might haul me in with all the rest. If they could catch me, of course. I had my doubts about the abilities of Frago Lanten’s subordinates. In fact, I didn’t think too highly of the guards in general.

Before I could even take a sip from my mug of thick black beer, a ski

I took an instant dislike to the fellow. His pallor and thi

I very nearly reached for my crossbow, but stopped myself. Who could tell? Perhaps he simply wanted to chat about the weather.

“I don’t think I asked anyone to join me, did I?” I asked as indifferently as possible.

But my brief moment of tension had not escaped my uninvited guest and he gave a crooked grin.

“Are you Harold?”

“Anything’s possible.” I shrugged and took a gulp of beer.

“I’ve been told to let you know that Markun is not happy.”

“Since when do hired assassins pass on messages from the head of the Guild of Thieves?” I asked sharply, setting my mug down on the table.

“That, Harold, is none of your business,” said Paleface, not in the least put out that I had guessed what he was. “Markun is asking you one last time to join the guild and pay your dues.”

Ah, the guilds, the guilds! The king turns a blind eye to the Guild of Thieves and the Guild of Assassins. For the time being, at least. The official authorities don’t touch these dubious organizations as long as they don’t overreach themselves and they pay their taxes. And it must be admitted that the sums of money paid into the treasury are huge. Almost half of the earnings of the night brethren. And that’s why I’m not in the guild. Why should I make a present to anyone of the gold pieces earned by my almost honest labor?

“I am sorry to disappoint him,” I said, and laughed as loathsomely as I could manage.

Shadow Harold, legendary master thief of Avendoom, who has never once been taken by the guards, does not wish to join the guild.

“I’m a free hunter. And I don’t intend to knuckle under to a fatbellied pickpocket.”

“Very well.” Paleface was not at all perturbed by my refusal and carried on staring indifferently into my eyes. “Is that your final word?”

I nodded, indicating that the conversation was at an end. A deafening silence suddenly descended on the Knife and Ax. The girl stopped singing, the drunken laughter and lively conversations came to a sudden halt. A genuine graveyard, with Gozmo as the cadaver-in-chief. I looked in the direction of the door, and my eyes must have turned square in amazement if even a professional like Paleface did what no experienced assassin should ever do: Forgetting about me, he turned round to see what had happened back there.

A detachment of the municipal guard was standing at the entrance to the i

Something very important was about to happen if the guardsmen, whom Gozmo paid off regularly so that they wouldn’t even notice his little establishment and the public that frequented it, had actually come here.

Standing at the head of the orange and black horde was none other than the commander of the municipal guard himself, Baron Frago Lanten. The baron probed the silent room with a short-sighted gaze that eventually picked me out, then he nodded to himself and set off straight toward me.