Robert Asprin - Tales From The Vulgar Unicorn

The man with the gloves and brown walking stick hurried through the door and turned left; had he not, Hanse would have called. The fellow had no time for anything before Hanse sent the vinegar sloshing within his hood.

'Ah!' Naturally the man ducked his head as the liquid drenched him and entered both eyes. Since he was not blind and not accustomed to carrying a staff as a part of him, he dropped it to rush both hands to his face. Hanse swallowed hard before snatching up the stick by its handle. He kicked the moaning fellow in the knee-cap, and ran. The god-weapon seemed hummingly alive in his hand, so much that he wanted to throw it down and keep running. He did not, and it exerted no other effect on him. Just around the corner he paused for an importuning beggar, who soon had the gift of a nice brown, cowled robe. Since it was thrown over him as he sat, he never saw the generous giver. He had been swallowed by the shadows once the beggar got his head free of the encumbering woollen.

'Here, you little lizard, where do you think you're running to, hah?'

That from the brutish swaggering desert tradesman who grabbed at Hanse as he ran by. Well, he was not of the city, and did not know who he laid big hand on. Nor was he likely to aught but hie himself out of Sanctuary, once he returned to normal - doubtless robbed. Besides, a test really should be made to be sure, and Hanse poked him.

This was the staff of ensorcelment, all right.

Hurrying on his way, Hanse began to smile.

He had the stick and the murdering thief who had used it on him would not be too nimble for a long, long time, and the robe he had snitched off a drying line was in the possession of a beggar who would be needing it in a few months, and Hanse had his little message from the prince-governor. It avowed - so Hanse was told, as he did not read - that 'he you specify shall lend full aid in the endeavour you specify, provided it is legal in full, in return for your returning another wand to us'.

Hanse had laughed when he read that last; even a prince had a sense of humour and could allude to Hanse's having stolen his Savankh, rod of authority, less than a month ago. And now Shadowspawn would have the aid of big strong super legal Tempus in regaining two bags of silver coin from a well up in the supposedly haunted ruins of Eaglenest. Hanse hoped Prince Kadakithis would appreciate the humour in that, too: the bagged booty had come from him, as ransom for the official baton of his imperial authority in Sanctuary. Even Tempus's krrf had brought in a bit of silver.

And now ... Hanse's grin broadened. Suppose he just went about a second illicit entry of the palace? Suppose a blind man showed up among the swarm of alms seekers to be admitted into the courtyard two days hence, in accord with Kadakithis's people wooing custom? Shadowspawn would not only hand this awful staff to the prince-governor, he would at the same time provide ., graphic demonstration of the palace's pitiable security.

Unfortunately, Tempus had taken charge of security. The hooded blind beggar was challenged at the gate two days thence, and the Hell Hound Quag suspiciously snatched the staff from him. When the disguised Hanse objected, he was struck with it. Well, at least that way it was proven that he had brought the right stick in good faith, and that way he did get to spend a night in the palace, however unpleasant in his state of terror.

The Hell Hounds were now a common sight in Sanctuary so the appearance of one in the bazaar created little stir, save for the concealment of a few smuggled wares and a price increase on everything else. However, when two appeared together, as they did today, it was enough to silence casual conversation and draw uneasy stares, though the more observant vendors noted that the pair were engrossed in their own argument and did not even glance at the stalls they were passing.

'But the man has offended me...' the darker of the pair snarled.

'He offends everyone,' his companion countered, 'it's his way. I tell you, Razkuli, I've heard him say things to the prince himself that would have other men flayed and blinded. You're a fool to take it personally.'

'But, Zalbar...'

'I know, I know - he offends you; and Quag bores you and Arman is an arrogant braggart. Well, this whole town offends me, but that doesn't give me the right to put it to the sword. Nothing Tempus has said to you warrants a blood feud.'

'It is done.' Razkuli thrust one fist against his other palm as • they walked.

'It is not done until you act on your promise, and if you do /'// move to stop you. I won't have the men in my command killing each other.'

The two men walked silently for several moments, each lost in his own dark thoughts.

'Look, my friend,' Zalbar sighed, 'I've already had one of my men killed under scandalous circumstances. I don't want to answer for another incident particularly if it involves you. Can't you see Tempus is trying to goad you into a fight? - a fight you can't win.'

'No one lives that I've seen over an arrow,' Razkuli said ominously, his eyes narrowing on an imaginary target.

'Murder, Razkuli? I never thought I'd see the day you'd sink to being an assassin.'

There was a sharp intake of breath and Razkuli faced his comrade with eyes that showed a glint of madness. Then the spark faded and the small man's shoulders relaxed. 'You're right, my friend,' he said, shaking his head, 'I would never do that. Anger speeds my tongue ahead of reason.'

'As it did when you vowed blood-feud. You've survived countless foes who were mortal; don't try the favour of the gods by seeking an enemy who is not.'

'Then the rumours about Tempus are true?' Razkuli asked, his eyes narrowing again.

'I don't know, there are things about him which are difficult to explain by any other logic. Did you see how rapidly his leg healed? We both know men whose soldiering career was ended after they were caught under a horse - yet he was standing duty again within the week.'

'Such a man is an affront against Nature.'

'Then let Nature take vengeance on him,' Zalbar laughed, clapping a friendly hand on his comrade's shoulder, 'and free us for more worthwhile pastimes. Come, I'll buy you lunch. It will be a pleasant change from barracks food.'

Haakon, the sweetmeats vendor, brightened as the two soldiers approached him and waited patiently while they made their selections from his spiced-meat turnovers.

'That will be three coppers,' he smiled through yellowed teeth. 'Three coppers?' Razkuli exclaimed angrily, but Zalbar silenced him with a nudge in the ribs.

'Here, fellow...' the Hell-Hound commander dropped some coins into Haakon's outstretched hand, 'take four. Those of us from the Capitol are used to paying full value for quality goods -though I suppose that this far from civilization you have to adjust the prices to accommodate the poorer folk.'

The barb went home and Zalbar was rewarded by a glare of pure hatred before he turned away, drawing Razkuli with him. 'Four coppers! You were being overcharged at three!'

'I know.' Zalbar winked. 'But I refuse to give them the satisfaction of haggling. I find it's worth the extra copper to see their faces when I imply that they're selling below value - it's one of the few pleasures available in this hellhole.'

'I never thought of it that way,' Razkuli said with a laugh, 'but you're right. My father would have been livid if someone deliberately overpaid him. Do me a favour and let me try it when we buy the wine.'

Razkuli's refusal to bargain brought much the same reaction from the wineseller. The dark mood of their conversation as they had entered the bazaar had vanished and they were ready to eat with calm humour.

'You provided the food and drink, so I'll provide the setting,' Razkuli declared, tucking the wine-flask into his belt. 'I know a spot which is both pleasant and relaxing.'