"That's better now," Mange was saying as he moved forward. "Nice and compliant, like a good old Rankan bitch."
What happened next caught everyone by surprise, including Mariat. Incensed with rage at hearing his grandmother addressed so, young Keldrick broke free of his fear. He leapt forward with a kick, putting all the weight of his body into it, which slammed with a sickening thud into Mange's groin.
The bounty hunter screamed in surprise and pain, and fell to the ground, rolling in agony and clutching at his crotch.
Wik grabbed hold of Keldrick and lifted the boy high into the air, shaking him. Speido sprang forward and backhanded Mariat across the face, knocking her to the ground. Then he scooped up Darseeya and Timock into his lanky arms.
Suddenly, the feathered shafts of two darts sprouted from Wik's right shoulder. The big oaf bellowed and dropped Keldrick to the ground. Then Wik spun around tugging at the hated sting in his back.
Sinn came roaring out of the night like a demon released from hell. Behind him ran the street urchin to whom, two days before, he had given a silver bit in the Bazaar. The boy, named Jakar, had seen Smn wandering lost in the Maze and had returned the bard's generosity by leading him out of the tangled streets and to the Warm Kettle.
Speido dropped the children he was holding and pulled his dagger. Mariat staggered to her feet and screamed.
"Murder! Murder! Help!!" She prayed desperately for the watch to hear and answer her cry.
Sinn pulled up short and drew his weapon on Speido. When the sniveling youth saw that his dagger was facing a short sword, he lost all heart for the fight and tried to turn tail and run for it.
Speido only made it a few feet before Keldrick threw himself across the thief's path. Speido tripped and sprawled headlong on the ground, and Jakar leapt immediately on his back and battered the thief into unconsciousness with a small cudgel.
Mange was still lying on the ground clutching himself and watching the world spin around. But Wik, having pulled the darts from his shoulder, roared like a bull as he plowed into Sinn, bowling the minstrel over with the sheer bulk of his weight.
As the giant pinned Sinn to the ground, the bard felt his breath quickly leaving him. He worked his sword arm free and slammed the flat of the blade against the big man's skull. Had he known Wik any better, he would have aimed for a more vital part of the man's anatomy.
Wik rose from the ground like the personification of wrath. In his upraised hands, he lifted the man who had interrupted a simple, uncomplicated assignment. The big brute ignored the old woman and children clinging to his massive frame who were trying to deflect him from his purpose. He hurled the minstrel at the nearest wall with all the force he could muster.
Sinn felt some of his ribs crack and give way as he slammed into the building. As he crumpled to the ground in a mangled heap, he strove to fight off the darkness which was insisting on overwhelming him. He could not leave Mariat and the children undefendedBut as he lost his grip on the conscious world, he heard at last the unmistakable voice of the watch.
"Halt in the name of the prince!!" they cried.
Then oblivion took him.
Bakarat shifted his massive bulk uncomfortably in his seat. He looked disdainfully at his five fellow merchants seated in the common room of the Warm Kettle. The chairs Shamut had provided for the meeting were quite comfortable for them, but a man of the Toad's prestigious girth needed something more accommodating to his size.
He was about to call for Shamut to give him something more comfortable, when Mariat made her entrance into the room.
The fat merchant regarded her with hate. Somehow, she had made his plans last night go awry. He had learned from his underground network of informants that Mange and his cohorts had failed in their task. Bakarat did not worry about them implicating him. He had too many friends in high places. But he was exceedingly aggravated at having to enter this meeting without leverage over the woman Mariat.
The Rankan widow cleared her throat and called the meeting to order.
"Gentlemen," she began. "My thanks to you for taking time out of your busy and pressing schedules to come to this little get-together. I promise you I will make it worth your while."
Bakarat smiled to himself as he glanced at his business associates and saw the skeptical looks on their faces. Although none of them would ever sink to the depths of criminal intrigue at which the Toad operated, they were all shrewd businessmen who looked cynical of the fact that a woman could have something of interest for them to consider, other than her body-
"First," Mariat continued, "allow me to make two special introductions."
As she spoke, a young boy in his early teens entered the room. He brought with him a clean slate upon which he began to draw a map.
"This is my grandson Keldrick, who has recently proved himself man enough to take part in this assembly."
The merchants shifted uncomfortably, not quite understanding what she meant. Bakarat was becoming more and more agitated as the scene developed according to Mariat's plan.
"And may I also introduce Lord Molm Torchholder, who has come to hear and appraise our proposal as well."
Now the men in the room were absolutely stunned. ,They sprang to their feet, knocking over some of their chairs, in order to give due deference to the Rankan priest whom all knew by reputation. Bakarat was embarrassed to find that his chair followed him when he stood up to bow to the Torch. With his fat rump squeezed against its sides, the chair had a grip on him like a vise.
"Please be seated, gentlemen." Lord Torchholder waved all of them back to their chairs. "Let us hear what Madame Mariat has to say to us."
The merchants sat themselves down and now gave their alert attention to the Rankan widow. The presence of Lord Torchholder gave immense credibility to Mariat. Now they were willing, even eager, to hear what she had to say. All of them except the Toad.
"Thank you, my lord," Mariat acknowledged Molin's statement. "And now to the business at hand."
"All of you are aware that Aquinta wine was the most sought-after vintage in all the Empire. In fact, I have been informed by Lord Torchholder that only the wealthiest of Sanctuary's elite have ever been able to sample its famous bouquet."
"That's true," said one of the merchants, "but what is that to us? We have all heard what happened in Aquinta. There will be no more wine forthcoming from those fields."
"That is sadly all too true," Mariat continued. "But I have called you gentlemen here today to inform you that I possess an entire wagonload of Aquinta's finest vintage, and I have it safely housed right here in Sanctuary!"
The implications of the announcement were not lost on this group of men. Being merchants, they all knew that one or two bottles of the precious, now priceless wine would bring an unbelievable price at auction. To tell them that an entire wagonload was available was like telling someone that a mountain of gold is waiting in his backyard, ripe for the taking. Even Bakarat, who knew the purpose of the meeting (or so he thought), was taken aback.
"So you're coming to us to back the auction of your merchandise?" one of the other merchants asked hopefully.
"Yes, but that is not the end of it," Mariat said. Now was the time to present her plan-her whole reason for coming to Sanctuary. She said a silent prayer as she prepared to reveal her proposal to these men of business and profit.
Bakarat was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. First the woman had thrown in an ace in the hole by inviting the Torch. Now she was introducing an entirely new scheme. He felt control of the meeting slipping from his already shaky grasp.