The Ruby Knight

narrowed suspiciously. ‘You don’t look like the sort of fellow who’d have a burning interest in garrets,’ he said. ‘Does this friend of yours have a name?’
    ‘Not one he cares to have generally known,’ Sparhawk replied, taking a sip of his wine. It was a distinctly inferior vintage.
    ‘Friend, I don’t know you, and you have a sort of official look about you. Why don’t you just finish your wine and leave? – that’s unless you can come up with a name I can recognize.’
    ‘This friend of mine works for a man named Platime. You may have heard the name.’
    The tavern-keeper’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Platime must be branching out. I didn’t know that he had anything to do with the gentry – except to steal from them.’
    ‘He owed me a favour.’ Sparhawk shrugged.
    The unshaven man still looked dubious. ‘Anybody could throw Platime’s name around,’ he said.
    ‘Neighbour,’ Sparhawk said flatly, setting his wineglass down, ‘this is starting to get tedious. Either we go up to your garret or I go out looking for the watch. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in your little enterprise.’
    The tavern-keeper’s face grew sullen. ‘It’ll cost you a silver half-crown.’
    ‘All right.’
    ‘You’re not even going to argue?’
    ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry. We can haggle about the price next time.’
    ‘You seem to be in quite a rush to get out of town, friend. You haven’t killed anybody with that spear tonight, have you?’
    ‘Not yet.’ Sparhawk’s voice was flat.
    The tavern-keeper swallowed hard. ‘Let me see your money.’
    ‘Of course, neighbour. And then let’s go upstairs and have a look at this garret.’
    ‘We’ll have to be careful. With this fog, you won’t be able to see the guards coming along the parapet.’
    ‘I can take care of that.’
    ‘No killing. I’ve got a nice little sideline here. If somebody kills one of the guards, I’ll have to close it down.’
    ‘Don’t worry, neighbour. I don’t think I’ll have to kill anybody tonight.’
    The garret was dusty and appeared unused. The tavern-keeper carefully opened the gabled window and peered out into the fog. Behind him, Sparhawk whispered in Styric and released the spell. He could feel the fellow out there. ‘Careful,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s a guard coming along the parapet.’
    ‘I don’t see anybody.’
    ‘I heard him,’ Sparhawk replied. There was no point in going into extended explanations.
    ‘You’ve got sharp ears, friend.’
    The two of them waited in the darkness as the sleepy guard strolled along the parapet and disappeared in the fog.
    ‘Give me a hand with this,’ the tavern-keeper said, stooping to lift one end of a heavy timber up onto the window-sill. ‘We slide it across to the parapet, and then you go on over. When you get there, I’ll throw you the end of this rope. It’s anchored here, so you’ll be able to slide down the outside of the wall.’
    ‘Right,’ Sparhawk said. They slid the timber across the intervening space. ‘Thanks, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said. He straddled the timber and inched his way across to the parapet. He stood up and caught the coil of rope that came out of the misty darkness. He dropped it over the wall and swung out on it. A few moments later, he was on the ground. The rope slithered up into the fog, and then he heard the sound of the timber sliding back into the garret. ‘Very neat,’ Sparhawk muttered, walking carefully away from the city wall. ‘I’ll have to remember that place.’
    The fog made it a bit difficult to get his bearings, but by keeping the looming shadow of the city wall to his left, he could more or less determine his location. He set his feet down carefully. The night was quiet, and the sound of a stick breaking would be very loud.
    Then he stopped. Sparhawk’s instincts were very good, and he knew that he was being watched. He drew his sword slowly to avoid the tell-tale sound it made as it slid out of its sheath. With the sword in one hand and the battle-spear in the other, he stood peering out into the fog.
    And then he saw it. It was only a faint glow in the darkness, so faint that most people would not have noticed it. The glow drew closer, and he saw that it had a slight greenish cast to it. Sparhawk stood perfectly still and waited.
    There was a figure out there in the fog, indistinct perhaps, but a figure nonetheless. It appeared to be robed and hooded in black, and that faint glow seemed