Halfway across the High Bridge, Tal smelled grilled sausages and fresh bread as he and Chaney passed a tiny bakery beside the eastern rail. Far below, boatmen poled their barges across the Elzimmer, ferrying goods and passengers to the caravan staging area in Overwater or out into Selgaunt Bay.
"You want something to eat before setting off?" asked Chaney. He eyed the sausages greedily.
"Eckert made breakfast," said Tal, "but you go ahead."
"Ah…" Chaney made a show of searching for his purse. "Don't you have any change left?" The day before, Tal had given his friend a big leather purse containing more than a hundred gold fivestars.
"You said you wanted a really good horse."
"For that much, it had better have wings," warned Tal. Still, he chuckled and put a pair of silver ravens in Chaney's hand. "Get me one of those little loaves with the cheese inside."
"Um, why don't you get the food?" said Chaney, returning the triangular coins and looking over Tal's shoulder.
Tal followed his glance and spied a short, pot-bellied man standing beside a shallow alley between a fishmonger's shop and a cartwright's shack. The man was shorter than Chaney but with fish-white skin and thinning hair that formed a laurel around his head. He ignored Tal and impatiently crooked his finger at Chaney.
Tal.turned back to Chaney. Trouble?"
"No," said Chaney, but he glanced at Perivel's sword over Tal's shoulder. "I just need a word or two with this fellow."
"I hope she was worth it," joked Tal.
"Believe me," said Chaney, "she wasn't."
Tal sighed. He knew it was more likely a gambling debt than an offended brother or husband. "Need some money?" he offered.
"It's not that," said Chaney. "Don't worry. Won't be a minute."
He hurried across the cobbled street and disappeared into the alley with the short man, who put his arm around Chaney's slim shoulders in a patronizing gesture that Tal instantly disliked. He strained to hear what was happening, but the din of the traffic was too great.
He looked at the triangular silver coins in his hand, then slipped them into his jacket pocket and strode over to the cartwright's. He stood as close as he could without revealing himself to the alley's occupants. While he wanted to respect Chaney's privacy, he knew that some of the boaters lingered near the bridge to collect the reward for murdered bodies dropped from the High Bridge. It was already daylight, but Tal did not like the look of the man who had summoned his friend.
He cocked his head to listen and could barely make out some murmured words. Then he heard a painful gasp followed by hoarse coughing and retching.
Tal ran around the corner.
The space between the two little buildings was cluttered with junk. Stinking pots offish heads and offal lined the wall of the fishmonger's. At the far end was the stone bridge railing, rising three feet above street level.
Chaney was pressed up against the cartwright's shack. Two big men held his arms fast. One of them was bald, with an elaborate web of gold hoops and chains linking his left ear with his left nostril. It was the latest fetish among Selgaunt's elite, but Tal doubted this bruiser had bought it originally. More likely, some foolish young nobleman was walking around with a torn earlobe and nostril. The other big man was a hairy brute whose patchy beard barely concealed the network of scars that had ruined his face.
In the hammy grip of his captors, Chaney looked more thin and fragile than ever. The pot-bellied man dealt the beating. His eyes never left Chaney's as he spoke in a harsh whisper.
"… too late," he was saying. He grunted as he delivered another punch to Chaney's gut. Around his hands he wore hard leather strips studded with iron. "What made you think-?"
The man's rough voice cracked as he felt himself suddenly lifted from the slick cobblestones and hurled six feet away, where he smashed into the fishmonger's waste pots.
The men holding Chaney released him and took a step toward Tal, hesitating when they saw the big sword in his pack. Tal grinned back at them and tossed the sword and pack aside. The bald man raised his fists and stepped forward.
Tal was faster, stepping into the attack and batting away the man's guard with his left arm. His right fist flattened the man's nose and snapped his head back against the shack wall. Stunned, the big man sank to one knee. He shook his head, sending streamers of blood across both cheeks. The nose-ring fell away to dangle from his ear alone.
The other bruiser stepped between Tal and the pot-bellied leader, who shook fish guts from his arms.
"Stay out of this," he warned, glowering at Tal. "It's nothing to do with you."
"Go back, Tal," said Chaney. He remained where the brutes had held him and looked shaken but not seriously hurt.
The scar-faced man gave his boss a hand up, but he slapped it away and struggled back to his feet on his own. He was soaked from the waist down. "Listen to your friend."
"Chane," said Tal, "you know I can't just stand by and let-"
"Please, Tal," pleaded Chaney. "We're just going to talk."
"That's right," agreed Potbelly. "We're just having a little philosophical discussion."
Tal hesitated. He knew he was making things worse for Chaney, but he couldn't stand the thought of letting him suffer a beating.
"Then talk," said Tal, "but touch him again, and we'll find out whether you can swim."
"On second thought, maybe this does involve you," sneered the man. He glanced at his henchman and nodded at Tal. When they hesitated, he shouted, "Get him!"
By the wall, Chaney slapped a hand over his eyes.
Tal made a quick feint toward Baldy. When the bald man obligingly flinched, Tal turned quickly and kicked Scarface in the stomach. The man doubled over with a whoosh of breath.
Baldy threw his meaty arms around Tal's shoulders. He was even stronger than he looked, lifting Tal off the street. Tal shot an elbow into his gut, and the man relaxed his grip for an instant, only to shift it into a choke hold. Tal felt his eyes bulge from the sudden, crushing pressure. He shifted his weight to pull the man forward, but Baldy had his feet firmly planted and kept his hold.
Scarface staggered forward, still winded but recovered enough to slam his fist into Tal's sternum. He raised his fist for another blow, then fell over backward to reveal Chaney standing behind him, a heavy wooden spoke clutched in both hands.
Tal shoved Baldy backward, forcing him against the fishmonger's wall. The bruiser kept his hold, but then Tal jerked his head backward. The man's head cracked against the wall once, twice, and finally a third time before he sank to the street.
Tal staggered away, rubbing his throat and gasping. He looked for Potbelly, but the pale little man had made his escape. Near the street, Chaney peered back toward the city before turning back to Tal.
"We had better get out of here before the Scepters show up," he said.
He tossed his improvised club aside and threw Tal his pack. They emerged from the alley and headed north. Only a few questioning glances from the nearest merchants followed them.
"Listen, Ghane," said Tal. "I'm sorry-"
"Couldn't be helped," said Chaney. "After all, I can't expect my bodyguard to stand aside while some creep roughs me up, can I?"
Tal made a weak smile. Chaney had called him his bodyguard since Tal first defended him against bullies some ten years before, when they were boys.
"Of course, I can hardly stroll back through town unattended now," said Chaney. "You got enough money for another horse?"