‘I’ll get that cloak,’ Zelmit offered.

‘Do that,’ she said.

The cloak was not so much shabby as it was tattered, and it smelled as if it had never been washed. Vella pulled it on over her shoulders with some reluctance.

‘Put the hood up,’ Yarblek told her.

‘I’ll have to wash my hair if I do.’

‘So?’

‘Do you know how long it takes hair like mine to dry in the wintertime?’

‘Just do it, Vella. Why do you always argue with me?’

‘It’s a matter of principle.’

He sighed mournfully. ‘Take care of our horses,’ he told Zelmit. ‘We’ll walk the rest of the way.’ And then he led Vella out of the office. When they reached the street, he took a length of clinking chain with a leather collar on one end out of a side pocket of his overcoat. ‘Put this on,’ he told her.

‘I haven’t worn a chain or collar in years,’ she said.

‘It’s for your own protection, Vella,’ he said wearily. ‘We’re going into a very rough part of town, and the One-Eyed Dog is the roughest place down there. If you’re chained, nobody will bother you – unless he wants to fight with me. If you’re loose, some of the men in the tavern might misunderstand.’

‘That’s what my daggers are for, Yarblek.’

‘Please, Vella. Oddly enough, I sort of like you, and I don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘Affection, Yarblek?’ she laughed. ‘I thought the only thing you really liked was money.’

‘I’m not a complete scoundrel, Vella.’

‘You’ll do until the real thing comes along,’ she said, fastening the collar around her neck. ‘As a matter of fact, I sort of like you, too.’

His eyes widened, and he grinned.

‘Not that much, though,’ she added.

The One-Eyed Dog was perhaps the foulest tavern Vella had ever entered, and Vella had been in a large number of low dives and shabby taverns in her life. Since the age of twelve, she had always relied on her daggers to ward off unwanted attentions. Although she had seldom been obliged to kill anyone – except for a few enthusiasts – she had nonetheless established a reputation for being a girl no sensible man would attempt. Sometimes that rankled a bit, though, since there were times when Vella might have welcomed an attempt. A nick or two in some unimportant places upon an ardent admirer would sustain her honor, and then – well, who knows?

‘Don’t drink any of the beer here,’ Yarblek cautioned as they entered. ‘The vat is open, and there are usually a few drowned rats floating around in it.’ He wrapped her chain around his hand.

Vella looked around. ‘This is really a revolting place, Yarblek,’ she told him.

‘You’ve been spending too much time with Porenn,’ he said. ‘You’re starting to get delicate.’

‘How would you like to have me gut you?’ she offered.

‘That’s my girl,’ he grinned. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

‘What’s up there?’

‘The girls. Drosta doesn’t come here for rat-flavored beer.’

‘That’s disgusting, you know?’

‘You’ve never met Drosta, have you? Disgusting only begins to describe him. He even turns my stomach.’

‘Are you planning to just walk in on him? Aren’t you going to snoop around a bit first?’

‘You’ve been in Drasnia too long,’ he replied as they started up the steps. ‘Drosta and I know each other. He knows better than to try to lie to me. I’ll get to the bottom of this right away, and then we can get out of this stinking town.’

‘I think you’re starting to get delicate as well.’

There was a door at the end of the hall, and the pair of Nadrak soldiers standing at either side of it proclaimed by their presence that King Drosta lek Thun was inside.

‘How many so far?’ Yarblek asked them as he and Vella stopped in front of the door.

‘Three, isn’t it?’ one of the soldiers asked the other.

‘I lost count,’ the other soldier shrugged. ‘They all look the same to me. Three or four. I forget.’

‘Is he busy right now?’ Yarblek asked.

‘He’s resting.’

‘He must be getting old. He never used to have to rest after only three. Do you want to tell him I’m here? I’ve got a business proposition for him.’ Yarblek suggestively shook Vella’s chain.

One of the soldiers eyed Vella up and down. ‘She might be able to wake him up at that,’ he leered.

‘And I can put him back to sleep just as fast,’ Vella said, opening her shabby cloak to reveal her daggers.

‘You’re one of those wild women from up in the forest, aren’t you?’ the other soldier asked. ‘We really shouldn’t let you in there with him with those daggers.’

‘Would you like to try to take them away from me?’

‘Not me, girl,’ he replied prudently.

‘Good. Resharpening a dagger is very tedious, and I’ve been hitting bone a great deal lately.’

The other soldier opened the door. ‘It’s that Yarblek fellow again, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘He’s got a girl he wants to sell you.’

‘I just bought three,’ a shrill voice replied with an obscene giggle.

‘Not like this one, your Majesty.’

‘It’s so nice to be appreciated,’ Vella murmured.

The solder grinned at her.

‘Yarblek, get in here!’ King Drosta’s high-pitched voice commanded.

‘Right away, your Majesty. Come along, Vella.’ Yarblek tugged on her chain and led her into the room.

Drosta lek Thun, King of Gar og Nadrak, lay half-dressed on a rumpled bed. He was by far the ugliest man Vella had ever seen. Even the hunchbacked dwarf Beldin was handsome by comparison. He was scrawny and had bulging eyes. His face was pockmarked, and his beard scraggly. ‘You idiot!’ he snapped at Yarblek. ‘Yar Nadrak is overrun with Mallorean agents. They know that you’re Prince Kheldar’s partner and that you practically live in Porenn’s palace.’

‘Nobody saw me, Drosta,’ Yarblek said, ‘and even if they did, I’ve got a perfectly legitimate reason to be here.’ He shook Vella’s chain.

‘Do you really want to sell her?’ Drosta said, eyeing the girl.

‘Hardly, but we can tell anybody curious about it that we couldn’t agree on a price.’