“Might I remind you gentlemen that the longer you are away from Isstvan, the greater the chances are he’ll send another assassin after you.”
“He’s right, you know,” I said thoughtfully.
“I suppose so,” grumbled Higgens.
“Well,” said Brockhurst, rising to his feet, “I guess we’ll be on our way then as soon as we divide Garkin’s loot.”
“On the contrary,” stated Aahz. “Not only do we not divide the loot, I would suggest you give us whatever funds you have at your disposal.”
“What?” they chorused, their crossbows instantly in their hands again.
“Think, gentlemen,” Aahz said soothingly. “We’d be trying to bargain with a Deveel for his support. As you yourselves have pointed out, they are notoriously unreasonable in their prices. I would hate to think we might fail in our negotiations for a lack of funds.”
There was a pregnant silence as the Imps sought to find a hole in his logic.
“Oh, very well,” Brockhurst conceded at last, lowering his crossbow and reaching for his purse.
“I still don’t think it will do any good,” Higgens grumbled, imitating Brockhurst’s move. “You probably couldn’t buy off a Deveel if you had the Gnomes themselves backing you.”
They passed the purses over to Aahz, who hefted them judiciously before tucking them into his own waistband.
“Trust me, gentlemen.” Aahz smiled. “We Pervects have methods of persuasion that are effective even on Deveels.”
The Imps shuddered at this and began edging away.
“Well. . . umm … I guess we’ll see you later,” Higgens mumbled. “Watch yourself, Throckwoddle.”