of this place.’
‘I probably should have guessed. Krager’s mistress is named Shanda – thin woman?’
Talen nodded. ‘With a very sour mouth?’
‘That’s her.’
‘Does she know you?’
‘We met once about twelve years ago.’
‘The bandage hides most of your face, and the light inside isn’t too good. You should be able to get by if you change your voice a bit. Go on in. I’ll stay out here and keep watch. I know every policeman and spy in Cimmura by sight.’
‘All right.’
‘Have you got the price for a girl? I can lend you some if you need it. Shanda won’t let you see any of her whores unless you pay her first.’
‘I can manage it – unless you’ve picked my pocket again.’
‘Would I do that, my Lord?’
‘Probably, yes. I might be in there for a while.’
‘Enjoy yourself. Naween’s very frisky – or so I’ve been told.’
Sparhawk ignored that. He opened the red-painted door and went inside.
The hallway he entered was dim and filled with the cloyingly sweet scent of cheap perfume. Maintaining his pose as a blind man, Sparhawk swung his stick from side to side, tapping the walls. ‘Hello,’ he called in a squeaky voice. ‘Is anybody here?’
The door at the far end of the hall opened, and a thin woman in a yellow velvet dress emerged. She had limp, dirty-blonde hair, a disapproving expression, and eyes as hard as agates. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t beg in here.’
‘I’m not here to beg,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’m here to buy – or at least rent.’
‘Have you got money?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s see it.’
Sparhawk reached inside his ragged cloak and took several coins out of a pocket. He held them out on the palm of his hand.
The thin woman’s eyes narrowed shrewdly.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he told her.
‘You’re not blind,’ she accused him.
‘You noticed.’
‘What’s your pleasure, then?’ she asked.
‘A friend told me to ask for Naween.’
‘Ah, Naween. She’s been very popular lately. I’ll send for her – just as soon as you pay.’
‘How much?’
‘Ten coppers – or a silver half-crown.’
Sparhawk gave her a small silver coin, and she went back through the door. She came back a moment later with a buxom brunette girl of about twenty. ‘This is Naween,’ Shanda said. ‘I hope you enjoy yourselves.’ She simpered briefly at Sparhawk, then the smile seemed to drain off her face. She turned and went back into the room at the end of the hall.
‘You’re not really blind, are you?’ Naween asked coquettishly. She was wrapped in a sleazy-looking dressing gown of bright red, and her cheeks were dimpled.
‘No,’ Sparhawk admitted, ‘not really.’
‘Good. I’ve never done a blind man before, so I wouldn’t know what to expect. Let’s go upstairs, shall we?’ She led him to a stairway that climbed into the upper parts of the house. ‘Anything in particular that you’d like?’ she asked, smiling back over her shoulder at him.
‘At the moment, I’d like to listen,’ he told her.
‘Listen? To what?’
‘Platime sent me. Shanda’s got a friend staying here – a fellow named Krager.’
‘Mousy-looking little man with bad eyes?’
‘That’s him. A nobleman dressed in green velvet just came in here, and I think that he and Krager might be talking. I’d like to hear what they’re saying. Can you arrange it?’ He reached up and took the bandage off his eyes.
‘Then you don’t really want to …?’ She left it hanging, and her generous lower lip took on a slight pout.
‘Not today, little sister,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got other things on my mind.’
She sighed. ‘I like your looks, friend,’ she said. ‘We could have had a very nice time.’
‘Some other day, maybe. Can you take me someplace where I can hear what Krager and his friend are saying?’
She sighed again. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘It’s on up the stairs. We can use Feather’s room. She’s visiting her mother.’
‘Her mother?’
‘Whores have mothers, too, you know. Feather’s room is right next to the one where Shanda’s friend is staying. If you put your ear to the wall, you should be able to hear what’s going on.’
‘Good. Let’s go. I don’t want to miss anything.’
The room near the far end of the upper hallway was small, and its furnishings were sparse. A single candle burned on the table. Naween closed the door, then she removed the dressing gown and lay down on the bed. ‘Just for the sake of appearances,’ she whispered archly, ‘in case someone looks in on us. Or in case you change your mind later.’ She gave him a suggestive little leer.
‘Which wall is it?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘That one.’ She pointed.
He crossed the room and put the side of his head to the wall’s grimy surface.
‘… to my Lord Martel,’ a familiar voice was saying. ‘I need something that proves that you’re really from Annias and that what you iell me comes from him.’
It was Krager. Sparhawk grinned exultantly and continued to listen.
‘The primate said that you might be a little suspicious,’ Harparin said in his effeminate voice.
‘There’s a price on my head here in Cimmura, Baron,’ Krager told him. ‘Under those circumstances, a certain amount of caution seems to be in order.’
‘Would you recognize the primate’s signature – and his seal – if you saw them?’
‘I would,’ Krager replied.
‘Good. Here’s a note from him that will identify me. Destroy it after you’ve read it.’
‘I don’t think so. Martel might want to see the proof with his own eyes.’ Krager paused. ‘Why didn’t Annias just write down his instructions?’
‘Be sensible, Krager,’ Harparin said. ‘A message can fall into unfriendly hands.’
‘So can a messenger. Have you ever seen what the Pandions do to people who have information they want?’
‘We would assume that you’d take steps to keep yourself from being questioned.’
Krager laughed derisively. ‘Not a chance, Harparin,’ he said in a slightly slurred voice. ‘My life isn’t all that much, but it’s all I’ve got.’
‘You’re a coward.’
‘And you’re – whatever it is that you are. Let me see that note.’
Sparhawk heard paper rustling. ‘All right,’ Krager’s