Free Lord of the Silent Kingdom by Glen Cook Page B

coffee anymore. Business has been bad lately.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Hecht knew that was the sort of complaint an eavesdropper would expect to hear. “Whatever’s convenient, then.”
    “Wine would hit the spot,” Ghort said.
    Hecht scowled. Ghort was far too fond of wine. But to say so would be dangerous. All westerners drank wine, many to excess.
    Hecht asked, “Is my cousin Beomond here? My uncle wanted us to bring him his birthday gift.”
    Tiny held out a hand. Hecht ignored it. The old woman told him, “Go wake him up.” She continued a frank examination of the visitors. “You’re finally catching on how to look like regular people.”
    Hecht did not understand. Ghort replied, “It’s a gift. Some got it. Some don’t. Me an’ Matt, we’re natural-born talents. In fact, Matt really was regular people, once upon a time.”
    A great, sloppy, jiggling mountain of a man appeared, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He was naked to the waist. The wine stain birthmark extended down his chest to the level of his heart.
    Ghort said, “Cousin Beo has been living large since we seen him last.”
    Hecht released a blurt of nervous laughter. Because what Ghort said was true. The man had gotten fatter since last Hecht had seen him, in Runch, working as a porter in the Sonsan factor house. He had lacked the scar, then. And the birthmark had not been obvious in the poor light of the factor house. His name was Goydar back then.
    He was drunk. He squinted at Hecht. “I seen you somewhere before.”
    “I’m your cousin, Mathis. Matt. I brought a birthday present from your father. I wanted to hand it over.
    We’re in kind of a hurry. We have other business.”
    Mention of a present pierced the fog in the giant’s mind. Dad remembered? I was beginning to wonder.
    You have any trouble out there? In the street?”
    Puzzled, Hecht said, “No. We hired a boy off the quay. He brought us straight here.” He indicated the possessions they had dropped after being admitted. “The city almost seems deserted.”
    The fat man asked, “You didn’t get stopped by any Family patrols?”
    “No.”
    “You will. There’ll be rumors about strangers out by now. That’ll turn into spies from the Brotherhood or agents of the Deves. They really want to get even with somebody. Sonsa is dying. And they claim it’s all our fault. Not the damned Deves. They’re gonna need passes. Good ones. Brothers, when they stop you, forget who you are. Just show your passes. Do what they say. Don’t give them any excuse to strip you down. They do, you’ll be lucky to end up just having your stuff taken and your ass seriously kicked.
    They killed a Deve last week. And he was under the protection of Don Alsano.”
    Ghort chirped, “Matt, you want to remind me why I had to come with you?”
    “Stupidity?”
    “Yeah. That’s the one.”
    Tiny offered what was, likely, the only profound statement ever to escape his mouth. “You can’t fix stupid.”
    “Shit. Man. I like that,” Ghort said. “I’m gonna use that.”
    The old woman yelled in from the next room, “Will you see who the hell is at the door, Tiny? Hey! You girls get back where you belong.” Hecht spotted several girls trying to get a look at the visitors. They seemed awfully young for denizens of a joy house. “You two from Heber. Come in here. That should be a customer. I don’t like my customers to see each other.”
    “Really?”
    Voices at the door. Ghort said, “That’s Pella. I better see what’s up.” He went.
    Beomond asked Hecht, “You been involved for long?”
    “Only a few years.”
    “Been to Runch?”
    Hecht considered admitting that he had. But that might start Ghort asking questions.
    He was doing fine with his Duarnenian past. “I hope to go someday. To the Holy Lands, too. To walk the roads the Founders walked, among the Wells of Ihrian … I have to make the pilgrimage. But the traffic all seems to be headed this way these days. Those who