“That’s part of the job. You owe me for keeping quiet about your warehouse back there and your fish glassblower.”
“They’re shit-dumb, man. He thinks we own the place, so we charge him rent.”
“It’s not going to wash. Zip.” Walegrin watched as the other man went white and furious in the moonlight. “Now look: You’re dealing with the guy who brought
Enlibar steel to this hole. You got yourself a nice advantage there, but right now you don’t need it, correct? Everybody’s at peace; you’re one of us. And, now that I’ve got the pieces in my head- well, I can get to better Beysib than your
Maznut.
“But let’s say I don’t want to. Let’s say I don’t trust some of my allies any more than you do, but the time comes, maybe, that I need a fire-breathing hero, then you come running, Zip-or Shalpa’s cloak itself won’t hide you from me.
Understood?”
Zip weighed his options in silence.
“Maybe you can find another warehouse,” Walegrin bantered easily. “Maybe something will happen to me before it happens to you. I remember you from the
Pits, long before Ratfall, and I’m betting you want to be a hero just once in your life. But you don’t swear right now, and you’ll tear Weaver’s Way apart looking for her… and you won’t find her.” He smiled his best triumphant smile.
“What do you get out of it?”
“Maybe I’m going to need a home-grown, fire-breathing hero,” Walegrin replied, thinking of Rashan and the altar out at Land’s End and hoping that Kama would approve.
Zip gave his word and they continued in silence, alone on the streets, until they reached Weaver’s Way.