Kay, Guy Gavriel – Sarantine Mosaic 01 – Sailing to Sarantium

‘My lord! You will tell them?’ Morax’s voice actually squeaked and then broke. It might have been comical, in another setting.

‘You wretched man!’ It wasn’t hard for Crispin to summon a tone of fury. ‘My Permit and purse are stolen by someone who is here only because of your greed-and you ask if I will complain? You haven’t even said a word about punishment yet, and all I’ve seen so far is a manhandling of the girl who stopped this! He would have got away if not for her! What do they do to caught thieves here in Sauradia, Morax? I know what they do in the City to Imperial ‘keepers who breach their trust for private earn. You imbecile!’

‘Hah! But be careful. He could kill you. His livelihood is at risk in this.’

‘I know. But there is a crowd.’

Crispin was painfully aware that no one in this courtyard could be con­sidered an ally, though. Most of them were staying illegally and would want to continue to be able to do so. He was a threat to more than Morax right now.

‘All of the . . . my lord, in autumn, or winter, almost all the Imperial Inns allow honest travellers to stay. A courtesy.’

‘Honest travellers. Indeed. I see. I will be prompt to offer this in your defence, should the Chancellor ask. I have put you another question, though: what do you do with thieves here? And how do you recom­pense aggrieved patrons who are here legitimately?’

Crispin saw Morax glance quickly again at Erytus. The innkeeper was almost cringing.

It was the merchant who spoke. ‘What compensation would assuage you, Martinian? I will accept responsibility for my nephew.’

Crispin, who had spoken of recompense in the fervent hope of hear­ing exactly this, turned to Erytus and let the anger seem to drift from his voice. ‘An honourable thing to say, but he is of age, is he not? He answers for himself, surely.’

‘He should. But his… failings are manifest here. A grief to his par­ents. And to myself, I assure you. What will serve to make this right?’

‘We hang thieves back home,’ one of the Karchites growled. Crispin glanced over. It was the one who’d raised his beer mug to him, earlier. He had a bright, inebriated glint in his eye. The prospect of violence, to cheer a dull night.

‘We hang ’em here, too!’ said someone else, unseen, at the back of the crowd. There was a sharp murmur. An edge of excitement now. Torches danced, pressed nearer in the cold.

‘Or cut off their hands,’ said Crispin, feigning indifference. He pushed away a torch that came too close to his face. ‘I care not what the course of law dictates here. Do with him what you will. Erytus, you are an hon­est man, I can see it. You cannot redress the risk to my Permit, but match the sum in the purse-the sum I would have lost-and I will accept that.’

‘Done,’ said the merchant, without a pause. He was a dried out, humourless man, but impressive in his way.

Crispin said, trying to keep the same casual tone, ‘And then buy me the girl who saved my purse. I will let you fix your price with the ‘keeper. Don’t let him cheat you.’

‘What?’ said Morax.

‘The girl!’ said the wife from behind him, urgently. ‘But…’

‘Done,’ said Erytus, again, quite calmly. He looked faintly disapprov­ing and relieved, at the same time.

‘I will need household servants when I reach the City, and I owe her for this.’ They would think he was a greedy Rhodian pig; that was all right, that was fine. Crispin bent down and hooked the satchel strap from the fingers of the prone man. He straightened, and looked at Morax.

‘I am aware that you are not the only ‘keeper to do this. Nor am I, by nature, a teller of tales. I would suggest you be extremely fair with Erytus of Megarium in naming your price, and I am prepared to report that because of the intervention of one of your honest and well-trained serv­ing girls no lasting harm has been done.’