"Our money?" Tanis asked, throwing a triumphant look at Caven Mackid as Kitiara replaced the items in her pack.
But Kitiara shook her head. "Something more valuable. The… things for Raistlin."
"Ha!" Caven snickered. "She's got your money in there, half-elf. Let me check." He bustled toward Kitiara, reached for her pack-and found himself back-pedaling away from her new dagger.
"You can't value your life much, Mackid," she drawled, "to try something like that."
"She has your money, half-elf," Caven protested. "And mine, too, probably. Go ahead and look."
Tanis put out a resolute hand. "Let me see, Kit."
Kitiara gazed at Tanis for a long time, her expression unreadable. Caven whispered, "Don't let her snooker you, half-elf. She's lying."
The swordswoman, still looking at Tanis, came to some decision. "I'll show you, half-elf." She told Caven over her shoulder, "But you can go to the Abyss, Mackid." Kitiara opened the top of the canvas pack and held the opening wide toward the half-elf. "Look inside," she urged.
After some hesitation, Tanis placed a hand within the pack. His fingers touched clothes, crumbs of provisions left over from weeks on the road, and a small-bladed knife in a wooden case. No money pouch. He pulled his hand back. "Nothing," he said to Caven.
"I told you," Kitiara said. She gathered up the pack and slung it over a shoulder.
For a moment, Caven looked as though he thought Kitiara and Tanis might be in consort against him, but a glance at the half-elf seemed to change his mind. He kicked a booted toe against a cobblestone. "Ten steel," he muttered. "I follow the woman for a month for ten lousy steel, and she doesn't have the money anymore. And I have one steel left to my name." He looked up. His tone was suddenly hopeful. "How much money do you two have?"
Tanis and Kitiara looked at each other. Kitiara seemed unperturbed by her fellow mercenary's mercurial change of mood. "I'm broke, Mackid. Give it up."
"I have a few coins," the half-elf said. "Enough for supper and drink for Kitiara and me." He emphasized the latter words.
"And I have one steel coin," Caven finished. "Let's find another tavern and discuss our situation over some ale."
Tanis felt the lines of his face settle into hardness-what Flint Fireforge called his "infernal mulish elven look." "Our situation?" he repeated.
Caven nodded. "The situation," he explained, "in which the two of you are going to find ten steel to replace the ones Kitiara stole or risk having me go to the Haven city guards, who will take you in custody for thievery."
With a cry, Kitiara, dagger drawn, flung herself across the cobblestones at Caven. She narrowly missed impaling the big man before Tanis dragged her off. Wode's look of fascination had changed to one of utter glee. "Half-elf, let me go!" Kitiara shrieked. "I'll disembowel him and his scrawny squire both, I swear it! Mackid have me thrown in prison? It was my money, I tell you!"
"It might take some time to prove that, Kit," Caven said, smiling gently. "Weeks, maybe months-if you can do it at all. How will you prove it from a Haven dungeon, my dear?"
Kitiara stopped struggling to consider his words. The anger seemed to seep from her body into the stones at their feet. After a slight hesitation, Tanis released her. The swordswoman straightened her clothing and headed down the street away from the Masked Dragon. "Come on then, you two," she called back irritably.
"Come on?" Caven repeated. He looked from Kitiara to the half-elf.
"To an alehouse," she shouted. "To talk. You invited us for a drink, Caven, after all."
Caven Mackid stood motionless, but Tanis, smiling despite himself, hastened to catch up with the swords-woman. Finally, after a short hike, Kitiara paused before a smoky den from which torchlight spilled. A hand-lettered sign, exuberantly misspelled, had been nailed above the door. It read "The Happee Ohgr" and was decorated with a drawing of an obviously drunken ogre. "This place looks appropriate for this type of discussion," Kitiara said and pushed down the steps into the crowded tavern. Tanis, shrugging, followed with Wode, and Caven brought up the rear.
They found a table by evicting three torpid traders who were too drunk to protest. The barkeep didn't argue; clearly these new customers had more room for ale than did the sodden trio that now sat propped, forgotten and snoring, against a wall.
Wode said nothing, but Tanis, Caven, and Kitiara had to shout over the din of arguments and occasional fistfights.
"Where'd you get the money the kender stole?" Caven yelled, taking one swig of ale and then another. He now seemed inclined to believe Kitiara's tale about Drizzleneff Gatehop. The swordswoman, using gestures almost as much as shouted phrases, sketched out the details of the previous night's battle with the will-o'-the-wisp. Then Caven launched into ideas for the three of them to band together and make some real money. Grandiose ideas, Tanis thought with a yawn. But he listened politely, realizing that Kitiara took Caven more seriously.
Both of them were getting drunk at a record pace, the half-elf realized. Wordless, Tanis considered his untouched tankard, then the pair of mercenaries.
They made a formidable duo. Kitiara was slender but muscular, her dark hair especially curly in the unseasonable humidity, her eyes luminous with-what? The alcohol? Caven, with the massive, toned body of one who devotes much time to his body's care, dwarfed her and the half-elf. The two humans shared black hair, dark eyes, pale faces-and at the moment, a greedy look of eking whatever they could from their pathetically short human lives, at whatever cost.
Caven waved to summon the barmaid, a plump, blonde teen-ager with pink skin and a bovine look. Wode, who must have been a year or two younger than the girl, sat up a little straighter, thrust out his thin chest, and gave her a leer. She appeared unimpressed. "Yah?" she asked Caven.
"Another pitcher of ale."
"Ya kin pay?"
Caven glared at her. "Of course we can pay."
"Show me th' money."
When Caven bridled, the girl said, "Place like 'is, ya got yer travelers what guzzle but don' pay, yah? I never seed ya before. Y' dress nice, sure, but ya mighta stole yer duds. So ya show me th' money now, all righ'?"
Caven slammed his last coin on the table. The girl, expressionless, picked up the money with a dirty hand and studied the coin. "Looks good," she said, pocketing it, picking up the pitcher, and turning away. Moments later, she returned and placed the filled pitcher before the four with a thump that slopped liquor onto the table. Wode rose and followed her back to the bar.
"This place reminds me of the Sandy Viper in Kernen," Kitiara commented. "Smoke, sticky tables, and drunks in the corner."
Caven snickered and refilled Kitiara's glass. "Re-
member the night Lloiden threw the pitcher of beer into the fire?"
The swordswoman chortled in response. "He thought he could prove they were watering the beer. He said watered beer would put the fire out," she explained to Tanis. "Instead, he practically burned the place down." When the half-elf failed to smile, Kitiara spoke instead to Caven. "Tanis isn't in a mood to be amused tonight, Mackid," she said with mock gravity.
Abruptly Tanis got up. He joined Wode, who was now lounging at the bar, his lustful gaze following the barmaid, who studiously ignored him. "Ah, what a woman!" the lad said wistfully. He stuck a skinny hand toward Tanis. "Name's Wode. Caven's my uncle. My mum's his big sis. I'm 'is squire-have been for a year now." Tanis shook the proffered hand.