J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

He was still mulling over the most likely place for Blacader to have spent his evenings when he reached the leather work on the corner of South Street and Meal Vennel, where he turned toward Blindman's Tavern. Seamus Og Flimeaan, who made the finest gloves in all of Perth and for whom Law had caught a thief, waved at him through the window and called out, " Madainn mhath ."

His friendship with Cormac had vastly improved Law's Gaelic from the rough soldiers' speech he'd had before, and he called back, " Ciamar a tha sibh ?"

"Well enow, thank you." The man smiled at him amiably, obviously guessing he had reached Law's limit of courtesies in that language. "And you?"

As unlikely as it was, it never hurt to ask, so Law said, "I am seeking someone, as a matter of fact. You wouldn't have happened to have seen Blacader, the carter, in the last few days, have you?"

"Nae in the past few days, although of an early evening he has been kent to pass by here. But when I think of it, he has nae lately. I gave it nae thought because he is often gone with his cartage." Seamus Og frowned. "Has something happened to him?"

"I hope not. When he passed here, which way was he usually going?"

"That way when he was going." He pointed east toward High Street Port. "And in a hurry to reach where he was off to. Never a word out of him. Not really a friendly sort. And then back from there a few hours later, his feet dragging a bit. You'd think he was going to hard labor, but you'd think his men would do all the heavy lifting."

A customer in a good woolen doublet stopped to inquire about the price of new gloves, so Seamus told Law a hurried goodbye. Law stopped in the street and looked toward the Tower Port. He wondered whether one or more of the men at the cartage might know more about Blacader's roamings than they had let on, but what he had heard from Seamus was probably better to go on. And besides, North Port was closer.

Now the boring part was stopping at every draper's, tavern, and chandler’s in the direction Seamus had directed. None of them had spoken to Blacader, who they said kept to himself, but they’d seen him pass that way many times. Andrew Bouquhen squinted thoughtfully from the window of his shop and said he was fairly certain he had seen the man pass the night before about time for the ringing of the bells for vespers.

When he reached the North Port, he put his hands on his hips to puzzle out what to do now. Beyond the gate was the deep town ditch and beyond that the suburbs so spread out it would be hard to know what direction to even search. Of course, if you followed the main road out of the gate far enough, you would come to Whitefriars' Monastery, but Law was willing to bet a king's merk that Blacader hadn't been going to pray of an evening.

He had just decided that there was nothing for it but to start asking at every building he came to when a deep voice said, "Alms. For the love of God, alms, sir." Law looked down, for the cry-the usual of beggars-came from practically under his feet.

This was a beggar Law hadn't seen before, and the sheriff made sure that the burgh was not overrun with them. Most were run out of the burgh, though a few who could pay were granted a license to beg. Such a license to beg was not easy to pry out of him, but the little man under his feet shook his cup at Law and the squint-eyed guard at the gate sat on his stool, ignoring him, so Law knew he must be licensed.

He was a dwarf, so small he didn't even come up to Law's waist. His big head looked strange atop his misshapen body. He had a hunched back, and his face was squashed in below a bulbous forehead. He waddled a step closer to Law on stunted legs and held out his cup, looking up at him with crazed blue eyes beneath a wild tangle of dirty blond hair.

"I've never seen you about before." Law certainly would have remembered the beggar if he'd seen him before.

The man shrugged. "I used to be at the Tower Gate." He spit. "The lord sheriff said I disgust the fine ladies and lords who use it."

Law nodded. The gate was one he seldom had cause to use since the houses there were where some of the richest men in Perth lived.

"This shouldn't be a bad place, though," Law observed. "There is a good deal of traffic. How long have you begged here?"

"A week, and this blather won't feed me tonight." He held his cup up as high as he could reach and rattled it at Law. "You look like you can afford alms for one of God's poor monsters."

Law reached into his scrip and felt for a groat. He pulled it out and held it a foot or so above the beggar's cup. "Mayhap I can, but I am looking for something."

The dwarf rattled his cup and squinted one eye at Law. "You were poking your nose into everyone's business as you came up the street. What's to-do?"

"I'm looking for someone who's gone missing. A carter by the name of Neill Blacader."

"Blacader? Aye, I ken them, him and that shrew of a wife of his. He probably ran away to escape her. For certain, she'd never drop a coin in my cup nor even a crust of dry bread." Money being scarce, that was often what a beggar received.

"You were here yesterday, aye? Did you see him pass by?"

"You expect my poor addled pate to remember that far back?" He rattled his cup even harder. "But if I ken that I will nae go hungry tonight, it might help me to think on it."

Law sighed. Over on his stool, the guard snickered as Law dropped the groat into the cup. The dwarf pulled it out and examined it closely for clipping before he dropped it back in. "All right then." He cocked his immense head to one side and looked at Law with eyes that now seemed more wily than crazed. "I saw him that night."

"At this port?"

"Aye, this would be the one."

"And he went out?"

The dwarf shrugged. "What else would he do?"

"Which way did he go?"

Grinning, the beggar rattled his cup again.

"Nae a chance," Law said. "Not unless you ken more than which way he walked. I can ask around and find that out for no cost."

The beggar crossed his arms and drew his squashed-in face into a scowl.

"All right then, if what you tell me leads me somewhere and I find him, I'll see that there is something extra in it for you." The promise might save him a lot of tiresome walking, a small price.

He scratched his hairy chest through a tear in his tunic. "How do I ken I can trust you? I'll never see another bit of pay."

"I keep my word. Besides, I might need more information sometime, so I'd be a fool to cheat you."

"That makes sense, I suppose." He scratched his chest and snagged a louse in between his thumb and forefinger that he crushed without bothering to glance down. "He went to the left on New Row Road."

"You're sure it was left?"

He glowered at Law. "Only way you can go from here on that road."

" Tapadh leat ," Law said and got a scowl for his courtesy.

Law turned toward the gate and took a couple of steps toward it when the beggar said, "Next time you want to ken what has happened at North Port, you'll want to ask poor Gilleasp before you waste your time with those Sassenach." He spit. "But be sure you bring more than one groat."

"Aye, I'll keep that in mind." He turned and considered Gilleasp. "You wouldn't have a guess where he was going, would you?"

The dwarf was settling on the ground, his stunted legs stretched out in front of him. He shrugged. "I cannae see past the gate from here, but you might want to ask at the tavern that's about halfway to Saint Leonard's in that direction." He leered. "I hear a lot of men stop yon."

It might be a long walk, and Law considered going to rent a horse at the stable but decided to do a little checking first. It was a humiliation not to have his own mount any more. He missed his two mounts from his days with the Douglas, but stabling and feed would be a waste of money he could little afford. Besides he would have to dismount every few minutes to ask questions anyway.