“We like it,” I said, rather stiffly. Now that I was over being scared, I didn’t like the sneer in his voice. The hut wasn’t much and I certainly wasn’t overly fond of it, but I resented his criticism.
“Don’t get your back up, kid.” Aahz said easily. “I’m looking for a motive, that’s all.”
“Motive?”
“A reason for someone to off old Garkin. I’m not big on vengeance, but he was a drinking buddy of mine and it’s got my curiosity up.”
He broke off his inspection of the room to address me directly.
“How about you, kid? Can you think of anything? Any milkmaids he’s seduced or farmers he’s cheated? You’ve got an interest in this too, you know. You might be the next target.”
“But the guy who did it is dead.” I gestured to the charred lump by the door. “Doesn’t that finish it?”
“Wake up, kid. Didn’t you see the gold cloak? That was a professional assassin. Somebody hired him, and that somebody would hire another one.”
A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t really thought of that. I began to search my memory for a clue.
“Well… he said Isstvan sent him.”
“What’s an Isstvan?”
“I don’t . . . wait a minute. What do you mean, I might be the next target?”
“Neat, huh?” Aahz was holding up the gold cloak. “Lined, and completely reversible. Always wondered how come no one noticed them until they were ready to pounce.”
“Aahz….”
“Hmmm? Oh, didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just if someone’s declared open season on magicians in general or Garkin specifically, you might have some. . .. Hello, what’s this?”
“What’s what?” I asked, trying to get a look at what he had found.