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Show to sip his ale. "Where sayest thou this place?" he asked carelessly. "Marry, sir, then ye will know," Hoqqam muttered teasingly, and took a long draught from his beaker. The two of them looked a sore sight-the garishly dressed Armand in silks and velvet, hunched uncomfortably over the bar in a position which supported the short, wiry Hoqqam fair upright, for'all the runtish man resembled a villain fallen on evil times. "In faith," Armand said sulkily, banging his beaker precipitately on the bar and spilling full half of the ale it held, "thou wilt tellest me or, I swear by the Two Saints, I'll have thy pelt!" Hoqqam smiled aside and replied mildly, "Soft, fair sir, I did but jest with thee." He placed his empty beaker on the bar. "If thou wilt but follow me a l i t t l e . . . . " He turned without waiting for a reply and sauntered slowly out the door. Armand, taken by surprise, left his beaker, fumbled out his purse to give the barmaid a coin, thought better of it, then weaved after Hoqqam, knocking a shoulder against the doorjamb in his passage and tinting the air around him blue with mumbled curses. "A fine man, y'be an' a helpful," mumbled Armand some time later- He was leaning heavily on Hoqqam as they made their way to a nearby court for to rent a carriage and two horses to Gundarholt Manor. Hoqqam, on his part, looked glum. A curse on the Gundarholt clan entire! The ass of a son-for ass he be and that most rightly!-had lost his purse in the Barnsboro alehouse. 'Twas left on the bar and most likely 'twas lifted by the barmaid who nevertheless swore on Saint Isaac's Flippers that she'd 114 |
