‘Well, he’s not here now, for which I am thankful. And tell the idiot he has gravy on his chin.’
‘Wipe your chin, Brune.’ The young man grinned at Tarantio and rubbed his hand across his face, licking the gravy from his palm.
‘It’s good food here. Shira cooked it, you know. Ah, but she’s a wonder.’ He glanced towards the kitchen, hoping for a glimpse of the girl, but the door was now closed. ‘Did you see that man about your money?’ he asked in a loud voice.
‘Perhaps you should speak a little louder,’ advised Tarantio. ‘I don’t think all the people in the tavern could hear you.’ Brune swung round. ‘Why would they want to?’
‘It doesn’t matter. It was sarcasm, Brune. I was trying to point out that it is not wise to talk so loudly about money; it could be that there are robbers close by.’
‘You don’t need to tell me twice,’ said Brune, tapping his nose. ‘So, did you see him?’
‘Yes. We have done rather well. My investments have brought me almost two thousand silver pieces.’
‘Two thousand!’ exclaimed Brune. ‘In silver?’ Several people close by turned to look at the two men. Dace’s laughter echoed inside Tarantio’s mind. ‘I am so glad we brought him with us,’ said Dace.
‘What will you do with all that money?’ Brune asked.
‘Let’s talk about something else,’ Tarantio told the sandy-haired youngster. ‘Anything you like.’
Brune thought long and hard. ‘Shame about the harp-man,’ he said, at last. ‘You should have been here last night. He was amazing. Can I fetch you some more ale?’
Tarantio nodded. ‘Let me enjoy this one,’ said Dace. ‘It is a long time since I tasted good ale.’
‘No. I don’t want to see bloodshed here.’
‘I promise, brother. No blades. Just a jug of ale, and then I shall sleep.’
Tarantio relaxed and faded back as Dace stretched and finished the last of the pie. Brune was on his way back to the table when a tall man, one of the troublesome nobles, turned suddenly, colliding with him. Ale swished from the two jugs Brune was carrying, splashing the man’s black silk shirt.
‘You clumsy dolt!’ he shouted.
‘Sorry,’ said Brune amiably, trying to move past the man. ‘But you did bump me.’
As Brune walked on the tall man’s fist struck him behind the ear, punching him from his feet. Brune fell against a table, striking his head on the back of a chair before pitching unconscious to the floor.
Dace vaulted the table and reached the scene just as the tall man was unleashing a kick against Brune’s body. Dace’s foot lashed out to hook under the man’s leg; then with a flick he sent the tall man crashing to the floor. The man rolled to his knees and drew a dagger. Dace grinned and reached for his own; then he stopped.
‘You are a bore, brother,’ he said aloud.
The tall man rose, eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll gut you for that, you whoreson!’
‘Don’t tell me, show me,’ said Dace contemptuously. The man lunged. Dace side-stepped, grabbing the knife
wrist with his left hand, his right arm moving under the man’s elbow. Dace slammed down with his left and up with his right. A sickening crack echoed around the room as the tall man’s arm snapped at the elbow; the victim’s scream was awful. The tall man fell back as Dace released him, the knife falling from his fingers. White bone was jutting through the sleeve of his black shirt, which was now stained with blood. He screamed again. ‘Oh, shut up!’ snapped Dace, ramming the heel of his palm into the man’s nose and following up with a right uppercut that lifted him to his toes. Stepping back, Dace let the man fall and then walked to Brune, who was groaning and trying to rise.
A movement from behind caused Dace to spin. Three men were approaching, knives in their hands. Dace laughed at them, then he walked towards them.
‘Happily for you, I promised a friend I’d kill no-one tonight. However, that does not mean I cannot cripple you – like your friend on the floor, who will be lucky to use that arm again. So who is first? I think I’ll smash a knee-cap next time!’