Not a threat, only a man with something to sell, thought the Cirdonian •s he sidled away from the stranger to get to the bar. Harmless, almost certainly-but Samlor moved to his left, guiding Star ahead of him so that his body was between her and the weapon that the other man in- sisted on displaying. The fellow had sized up Samlor as he entered the Vulgar Unicorn, guessing his occupation from his appearance. A con man’s trick, perhaps, but not an assassin’s.
There was no reason to take chances.
“When are we going to sleep, uncle?” asked Star with a thin whine on the last syllables which meant she was really getting tired. That was understandable, but it meant she was likely to balk when she needed to obey- She might even call him “Uncle Samlor” despite having been warned that Samlor’s real name would make both of them targets.
Star was an unusual child, but she was a child nonetheless.
“Two mugs of blue John,” said the Cirdonian, loudly enough for the tapster halfway down the bar to hear him. They already had the attention of the fellow, an athlete gone to fat but still powerful. He was balding, and his scars showed that he had been doing this work or work equally rough for many years.
If something had cost him his left thumb during that time-he was still the one walking around to tell the tale, wasn’t he?
‘I want-” Star piped up-
“And two beers to wash it down,” Samlor said loudly, cutting her off. As his left hand reached down for his belt purse, he let it linger for a moment where Star’s hood covered the whorl of white hair that was the source of her name. She quieted for the moment, though the touch was gentle.