Free Villains by Necessity by Eve Forward

it."
    "F-four tellins," replied Sam, holding up three unsteady fingers, "shays I can." The Beard laughed and slapped four coins down on the table. Sam, after a moment to lift his head again, picked a dart up off a side table. Beard yelled merrily to a cluster of patrons and a serving maid to get out of the way. Sam turned around in his chair, looking over his shoulder, then turned back, and, keeping his dreamy weary eyes semi-focused on Beard, tossed the dart over his shoulder. Arcie whipped his head to follow it. It went
thunk!
into the center of the bull's eye. Beard roared in laughter and amazement and went for more ale as Sam owlishly tried to pick up the tellins. Arcie padded over to him.
    "Sam!" he hissed.
    "Wazzat?" came the reply, and Sam peered over the edge of the table at the Barigan. "Oh, it's you. Whasit?"
    "No thanks," replied Arcie. "Have ye made yer quota?"
    Sam thought a moment. "Yep. Wher...'s the girl?"
    "I dinna ken," replied Arcie. "Give it up for today, Sam. Ye've had a long day, and besides which this person coming over to our table looks a fearsome lot as one of your old instructors. Bye!" Arcie vanished among the crowd, just another Barigan lost in a sea of knees. Sam looked up to see a figure that made his blood shiver as past memories collided with present reality.
    "Hello, young fellow," said the older man, pulling up a seat across from him. "I've been watching you. Some very nice tossing, there."
    Sam murmured
    "Thanks," trying not to stare at the fellow, with the red-brown hair all washed clean and shining, the clothes with the mark of the shipwrights on one sleeve, and-gods!-a small but promising potbelly.
    "I used to be quite good at the darts myself," the man said conversationally, "but I lost it after awhile ... lack of practice, I guess ... kind of hard to remember." He shrugged, smiled. "My name's Reynardin, by the way," he added. Sam tried not to whimper. It's Black Fox, he thought to himself. Black Fox with the gleaming eyes, who once walked the wire between High Temple Street and the clock tower in a high wind. Who taught me seventeen different ways of breaking bones without breaking the skin.
    And now he's probably sewing up rips in sailcloth all day.
    "Uh, they call me Blackie here," spoke up Sam, trying not to look like an assassin. The alcohol was fizzing in his brain.
    "Fair enough," replied Reynardin. "You don't have relatives in Bistort, by any chance, do you? Your face seems familiar..."
    "Oh, yes, I have a brother there," Sam lied quickly. He really doesn't remember! Like Mizzamir said... What must it be like for them? Living in a pink fog, not knowing what you've lost.. "We look a lot alike."
    "Thought so," exclaimed the shipwright. "Well, it was a good show of darts, lad. Have a nice evening." With a grin the ex-assassin clapped Sam on the arm and moved off into the crowd. Sam reflexively checked his arm for needle punctures; Black Fox had, like most of his teachers, taught him caution the hard way. Looking around, he saw his bearded buddy kibitzing a card game in the far corner, and thought he glimpsed Arcie over at a table of tradesmen. He got up and headed over to them.
    A moment later, the door of the tavern swung open, and Kaylana strode in, fiercely ignoring the whistles and exclamations she attracted. Locating Sam and Arcie, she approached them.
    "Well, we have met, then," she said as soon as she was in speaking range. "I have the coins required. Now then, you may get rooms or not as you wish, I am going to stay in the relative peace and sanity of the stables away from the cluster of this town. I will see you at dawn, on the east outskirts of town." She turned to go, but Sam tapped her on the shoulder, the drink and laughter and praise and noise dancing in his eyes. She wheeled suspiciously on him.
    "If you're saying you can't afford a room, lady, I've already rented one, you're welcome to share mine," Sam began with a grin, but there was a flash of furious green eyes, a