The bear-sized man with the barrel belly greeted Hanse heartily and with surprise. "Why haven't I seen you for so long, Hanse? Must be a year or more."
Cholly was alone in his smelly, cluttered place of business, meaning that his two assistants were out on this errand or that. Taking orders for delivering glue, probably, or the ancillary products of Cholly's trade. Selling jewelry, perhaps, or slightly used clothing. A bone or two, maybe. Or nice long hair, perhaps, to make nice wigs.
Briefly and without much patience, Hanse told Cholly where he had been.
"I had no idea, Hanse' Oh-I guess you left before that sexy Rankan gladiator came to town, didn't you?"
"How can a gladiator be s- oh. You mean Chenaya Nutcracker? We, uh, met, Cholly."
"Oh? Surprised you don't grin when you say that, Shadowspawn. Surely Milady Swagger either insulted you, tried to kill you, or bedded you. Or all three."
Hanse clamped his teeth. "She bedded me, Cholly. That's the way it was, too-she collected me. took me home, and bedded me. She's good- looking and she's cat-supple, I'll give her that. Bed is another matter. I didn't enjoy it with her and we will not be doing it again. I prefer women."
Cholly saw the expression and heard the tone. Considerately and wisely, he nodded and said nothing at all. Then his visitor laid the wounded knife on his counter and the huge man shifted to his business demeanor. He picked it up in a big meaty hand, examined it, said "hmm" twice, and shrugged.
"Easily fixed, Hanse. Let's just make repairing this a welcome-home gift," Cholly said, already starting to work. "We'll use dry-tack. It's a special sort of glue I made up; sticks by pressure." He grunted softly; a man the size of Chollander the Gluemaker seldom found tasks large enough to require large grunts. "There. Now we apply the dry-tack wet, so, and allow it to dry. We don't have to wait long. I remember this old knife from years back. A really superior blade! Oh-you, ah, pick up any new knives up in Furakka?"
Hanse showed him a couple, knowing this lover of knives would con- sider both of them exotic because they were of foreign manufacture. "The really fancy one was a gift from the head mage up in Firaqa, a man named Arcala."
"Hmp! Never knew you to stay around a mage long enough to receive a gift! Hard to imagine, from a fellow who hates sorcery worse than anybody!" Cholly said, admiring it and the other knife Hanse handed him, a normal enough sticker. He examined both with the respect and care of a man who knew knives. "Nice," he said, laying them down. "Here, look at this pretty thing while I finish the job on your old knife." He placed in Hanse's hand a dagger whose blade was inlaid with silver.
Sensing trade negotiations, Hanse naturally found it necessary to de- mean the seeming treasure. "Uh. Pretty," he said casually. "I'll bet this fancy inlay weakens the blade, though."
Sensing an impending trade, Cholly snorted and made a chuckling noise to show Hanse how silly that was. It was also subject-changing time:
"Ah yes, this is good now, Hanse- Dry-tack's a really good bonder. I'm proud of it. It won't stick to slippery surfaces, see, like wax or grease. Or soap. On the other hand it's easy to peel it off smooth, polished surfaces."
"In that case how can it be strong enough for a knife I need to trust?"
"I said 'peel' it off, Hanse. Pulling it off, breaking the bond-that's another matter. Believe me, I could glue a handle onto a horse's back and lift him by it. If I could lift a horse, I mean. It's strong."
That triggered a thought, but Hanse was careful to sound casual when he asked how one got the stuff off.
Cholly gestured. "Oh, I have a remover for it! Had to come up with that!"
"Uh. I guess," Hanse said, and decided it was time to swing back to the potential trade: "How strong d'you think this silvered blade is?"
"It's a dagger, Hanse. I mean, it isn't as if you're going to try throwing it or chopping trees, is it?"
The ritual of leading up to a transaction had begun. The dickering had to come first, of course, and the deliberate dropping of the subject for friendly converse before returning to another offer or "suggestion" of offer. This time the process took only fifteen or eighteen minutes. When Hanse left, Cholly had both Firaqi knives in exchange for the inlaid dagger and a pot of the dry-tack Hanse called "Cholly's Dry Stickum." The gluemaker threw in the remover as a courtesy. Their deal made both men happy-
Hanse returned to the area where he had left Silky. The melon pedlar had gone on, and apparently so had Silky. A little asking around apprised him that the tan-haired Sumese girl had departed, with that blond Rankan. While Hanse's pride was wounded a bit, he was not unhappy. He did seem to be stuck with the big red cat. By that evening he had left Notable with Ahdio twice. The moment a door was opened. Notable hastened to use it and seek out Hanse.
"All right, you damn' cat, let's go home and drop off my new pot of glue! You'll need to sniff out the place anyhow."
Notable swerved sharply to bang his flank into Hanse's leg. "Maowr!"
"No."
"mew?"
"No, damn it. Notable, we will not stop and get you a beer now!"
Strick's rule was that people came to him; he went to no one. For this interview he had long wanted, however, he would have gone to the pal- ace. Prince-Governor Kadakithis would not hear of it. Instead, secretly, in disguise and terribly early on a Fourday morning as agreed for his convenience and security, he arrived in Strick's "shop." In this absolute privacy and confidence, the handsome young Rankan of about Hanse's age and size astonished Strick; he admitted that he was less than he wished to be and had decided that it was because he was too indecisive; fearful of what the Ilsigi would think of him.
"The young half-brother of the emperor," he said quietly, tapping his chest while studiously not-looking at the spellwright, "always had to be careful not to offend or even be very visible, you see. Abakithis-the emperor-was that sort of man. In time, though, he decided that I wasn't invisible enough. He shipped me out here. The goal was not to do any- thing for Sanctuary or for me, but to get me out of Ranke!" Kadakithis sighed. "So, I felt the need to prove something, to do well. Trying too terribly hard, I was overzealous in trying to clean up this town. In taxing the Red Lantern Houses and ... other things."
Strick sat very still. He said absolutely nothing and more, he made no sound.
Embarrassedly looking at the wall to his right, Kadakithis went on in that sadly quiet voice: "This morning Lord Abadas, the new emperor's cousin, visited to present himself formally. I disgusted me. I was posi- tively ingratiating."
After a time he turned his head to look at Strick from pale blue eyes. "Your efforts and actions were understandable," Strick said just as quietly. "And with Lord Abadas as well. The man is surely here to keep an eye on you for his cousin, isn't he. After all, you're half-brother to ... Emperor Theron's predecessor in the imperial chair."
Kadakithis shook his head. "No, Strick; I have come to like this town, both from sympathy and feeling a part of it. If I'm to amount to anyth- if I'm to help these people in anything approaching the way you have, I'll need ..." The Prince-Governor broke off in embarrassment.
Strick didn't need to hear the words. "I like Sanctuary and its sorely stressed people, too, lord Prince, and ... I must help, I have no choice."
"I have heard that mysteriousness before, Spellmaster, but I will not pry. I believe you. If it is pain, then I am sorry. Both of us know pain."
"And so am I sorry, lord Prince, so am I. Now I must warn my lord Prince about the Price."