Orca by Steven Brust Page B

Kaldor?”
    Daythiefnest? Birdie. I didn’t laugh. “Yes, my lord.”
    “Number three Coattail Bend?”
    “Number six, my lord.” Heh. Caught that one, at least.
    “Right, sorry. And you have come in on your own?”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “Why?”
    “My lord?”
    “What brought you here?”
    “The investigation, my lord. I have information.”
    “Ah. You have information about Fyres’s death?”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    He studied me carefully, but, as far as intimidation went, he was nothing compared to Loftis. Of course, it wouldn’t do to tell him so; it might hurt his feelings.
    “And what is this information?”
    “Well, my lord, after work—”
    “What sort of work do you do, Kaldor?”
    “I mend things, my lord. That is, I mend clothes, and sometimes I mend pots and pans, except my tools got took, which I reported to the Guard, my lord, and I mend sails for sailors sometimes, and—”
    “Yes, I understand. Go on.”
    “I know that you aren’t the gentlemen who are going to get my tools back, that’s a different outfit.”
    “Yes. Go on.”
    “Go on?”
    “After work ...”
    “Oh, right. Well, after work, on the days I have work, I like to go into the Riversend. Do you know where that is?”
    “I can find it.”
    “Oh, it’s right nearby. You just take Kelp down to where it curves—”
    “Yes, yes. Go on.”
    “Right, my lord. Well, I was in there having a nice glass of ale—”
    “When was this?”
    “Last Marketday, my lord.”
    “Very well.”
    “Well, I’d been drinking a fair bit, and I’d gotten a kind of early start, so before I knew it I was seeing the room go spinning around me, the way it does when you know you’ve had more than maybe you should?”
    “Yes. You were drunk.”
    “That’s it, my lord. I was drunk. And then the room spun, and then I must have fallen asleep.”
    “Passed out.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “Well?”
    “Yes, my lord?”
    “Get on with it.”
    “Oh. Yes, my lord. I must have been sleeping five, six hours, because when I woke up, needing to relieve myself, you understand, I wasn’t nearly so drunk, and I was lying on one of the benches they have in back, and the place was almost empty—there was Trim, the host, who was in the far corner cleaning up, and there was me, and there were these two gentlemen sitting at a table right next to me, and they were talking kind of quiet, but I could hear them, you know, my lord? And it was pretty dark, and I wasn’t moving, so I don’t think they knew I was there.”
    “Well, go on.”
    “One of them said, ‘If you ask me, they didn’t get anything.’ And the other one said, ‘Oh, no?
    Well, I’ll tell you something, they got a lot, and it’s going on the market next week,’ and the first one said, ‘What’s it going for?’ and the other one said, ‘A lot. It has to be a lot. If someone is going to lighten Fyres, especially after he’s dead, and not take anything but a bunch of papers, they must be important.’ And the first one said, ‘Maybe that’s what he was killed for?’ And the other one said, ‘Killed? Naw, he just fell and hit his head.’ And then, my lord, I sort of figured out what they were saying, even though I was still maybe a bit woozy, and I knew I didn’t want to hear any more, so I moaned like I was just waking up, and they saw me, and they stopped talking right then. And I tumbled out of there, singing to myself like I was even drunker than I was, and I went out the back way and I beat it for home as quick as I could, and I didn’t even settle up with Trim until the next day. But, as I was walking out, just at the last minute, I took a quick look at the two gentlemen. I couldn’t see their faces too well, but I could see their colors, and they were both Jhereg. I’ll swear it. And that’s what I have, my lord.”
    “That’s what you have?”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    He stared at me like I was a rotten pear and he’d just bit into me, and he thought for a