Free Book 5 - With Mercy Toward None by Glen Cook

friends and family to run life. Big guy was close to truth."
    "You don't know my father."
    "Truth told," Mocker replied. "And same does not know portly purveyor of punditries. So. Things equal to same thing are equal. Something like that. Hai! Lady. Self, being easily embarrassed, cannot forever call conversant ‘beautiful lady.' Same must have name."
    "Oh. Yes. Kirsten. Kirsten Heerboth."
    "Kirsten. Has beautiful ring. Like carillon. Appropriate. Kirsten, we make deal, maybeso? For small emolument, self, being mighty engineer, will undertake to prevent predations of pestilential parent. Also rapacities of others of same ilk. Am easily satisfied, being wanderer mainly interested in visiting foreign lands, needing only bed and board. Would be willing to begin with latter."
    "I don't know... It doesn't seem... Are you really hungry?"
    "Hungry?" Polo said. "Big guy is putting eye on horse across square, same being prizest mount of Chief Justiciar of Damhorst."
    "Well, come along then. I don't guess it'll hurt to give you dinner. But you'll have to promise me something."
    Mocker sighed, "Same being?"
    "Let Polo tell me about the priest and the magic staff."
    "Disgusting!" Tubal growled as Mocker stuffed him into his travelling kit. "Absolutely shocking," the puppet muttered from inside.
    Mocker grinned.
    Kirsten maintained a small townhouse on the edge of Damhorst, in the shadow of Baron Breitbarth's grim old castle. An elderly maid-cook constituted her staff. Sir Wulf had been one of those highwayman-knights, and only marginally successful. He had left Kirsten the house, one gold trade noble, and a small leather bag of jewels she had found inside his shirt after he died in her arms. The gold would carry her a month or two, and the jewels several years more, but she was hardly fixed for life.
    Mocker reiterated his remark to the effect that her beauty was her fortune.
    The visit for a meal turned into a month-long stay. Daily, Mocker would spread his mat in the square—he insisted that he had his pride—and would pursue his routines. Sometimes he was successful. People enjoyed the entertainment portions of his spiel. More often than not, Kirsten would come and watch. He seemed to have an infinite store of blarney.
    Evenings he amused her with tales from the east. She was particularly fond of Tubal and Polo, who were famous puppet-show characters east of the Mountains of M'Hand. The contest of city-slicker with simple farm boy seemed to have a universal appeal. The traditional plays were all adaptable to rural or urban audiences.
    Time, proximity, and loneliness worked their devious magics. Mocker and Kirsten became more than accomplices, then more than friends.
    Handling Kirsten's father took little imagination. Mocker used earnings from the square to pay a couple of thugs to escort the man out of town. He had no trouble understanding the message in his lumps and bruises. He kept travelling.
    Kirsten never learned about that, of course. She remained amazed that the old man had paid but the one friendly visit.
    Mocker began to feel vaguely lost. He had had plans. Nebulous things, to be sure, but they had been plans. They were going by the board because of a chance-met woman.
    He had become involved with a human being on more than an adversary or use level. He did not know how to handle it. Nothing like it had ever happened before.
    The deeper he got, the more uncomfortable he became.
    He almost panicked the day Kirsten mentioned that she had been to see a priest, and that the priest wanted to see him too. He barely restrained himself from flight.
    A few days afterward Kirsten swore, "Damn! Do you have any money on you? Mine's gone."
    He lied, shaking his head. "Has been abominable week. Autumn rains. Getting too cold, too muddy."
    "I guess it means selling the jewels. I talked to Tolvar last week. The goldsmith on the High Street. He said he'd make me a good price. Why don't you run them over and see what he'll offer?"
    "Self?