Thieves World 5 – The Face of Chaos by Asprin, Robert

dropped it in the pimp’s lap if the fellow had not snatched it in with fingers

like eagle’s talons. The coin was silver, minted in Ranke, a day’s wage for a

man and as much as these blowsy whores together could expect for a night. ‘If

you keep them away from me. Otherwise, I take back the coin, even if you’ve

swallowed it.’ Samlor wore a smile again, but it was not the same smile. The

women were backing off even before the pimp snarled at them.

The minstrel had risen to take the cup Samlor handed him from the bar. It was

wine, though poverty had drunk ale on the previous round. ‘I thank you, good

sir,’ the man said as he took the cup. ‘And how may Cappen Varra serve you?’

Samlor passed his left hand over the sound box of the lute. The coin he dropped

sang on the strings as it passed. ‘A copper for a song from home,’ he said. He

knew, and from the sound the minstrel knew also, that the coin had not been

copper or even silver. ‘And another like it if you’ll sing to me out on the

bench, where the air has less – sawdust in it.’

Cappen Varra followed with a careful expression. He gave the lute a gentle toss

in his hand, just enough to make the gold whisper again in the sound chamber.

‘So, what sort of a song did you have in mind, good sir?’ he asked as he seated

himself facing Samlor. The minstrel had set his wine cup down. His left leg was

cocked under him on the bench; and his right hand, on the lute’s belly, was not

far from the serviceable hilt of his dagger.

‘A little girl’s missing,’ said Samlor. ‘I need a name, or the name of someone