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The stable was poor; the Inn was worse. As we stepped onto the porch, the beggar in rags thrust a filthy, sore-crusted hand at us. Lord Reinard stepped away, but Sharp dropped two silver coins into his palm.
"You’re quite generous," my lord growled.
"Silence is worth it," Sharp growled back, nudging Lord Reinard through the doorway.
Inside, the barmaid gave a us a gap-tooth grin. "Tham! Markth on the floor!"
Old Sam turned around, looked us over, and picked up four beer steins in each hand. The floor shook beneath his bulk as he strode over and set them on a table. He put his foot on a bench and rested his meaty hand on the hilt of the butcher knife he kept in his boot. His voice rumbled. "Have a seat, gentlemen."
Sharp nudged Lord Reinard forward, and the rest of us followed.
"Well, now," Old Sam said when we were all at our places. His eyes moved to Elise. "What have ye to sell me?"
Beside me, Charles reached for his sword. I caught his eye and shook my head. We would not be served by turning Old Sam against us.
"We have other business with you." Sharp moved his hand slightly, just enough to touch the purse laying there. He worked out a gold coin and caressed it. "We need a room."
"I have one, upstairs. You have it for a night."
"Four nights," Sharp said. "Longer if need be."
"No more than one."
The gold coin disappeared into the bag. Sharp made a show of counting the beer steins, then drew out seven tiny copper coins, which he stacked into a tiny tower.
Old Sam leaned forward. "Three nights are possible, but I’m expecting guests."
Sharp worked two gold coins free. "We won’t bother your guests, if they won’t bother us."
"Do I have your word on it?"
Sharp worked a third gold coin free. "I’m a generous man, and what ever you take away today, you’ll have twice as much when I leave. Can you say as much for your friends?"
Old Sam weighed this, then reached out his hand for the coins.
"Not yet," Sharp said. He added two more coins to the pile. "I’ll want my companions and my horses alive when I leave, and no one knowing of our stay here."
Lord Reinard paled at this – but was it the hint of death or the loss of wealth which bothered him?
Old Sam also paled, and hesistated. His eyes shifted sideways. "You’ll sleep well tonight."
I was glad that no one would be sleeping here at all. They might sleep too well.
"Then you can show us the room, once we’ve finished your beer."
I looked down into the pale, warm liquid, steeled myself, and took a hefty gulp. It tasted sour but yeasty, and I knew it would do me no harm. Around the table the others did the same, though Charles drained his stein and set it down with a grin. Lord Reinard, however, stared into his drink with a horrified gaze.
For an instant I was back in Slatten with Wallen, a wide-eyed boy with much to learn about life. Occasionally we would come face to face with some unpleasant duty, some ugly truth in the beauty of life. His eyes would open and his mouth would drop, and a pink tinge would cover his pale cheeks. I saw that look on Lord Reinard now as he stared back at Sharp with horror.
"Drink it," the Bard said firmly, leaving no one in doubt as to who was the leader here.
Lord Reinard blinked, then clenched his hand. But beneath Sharp’s firm gaze he picked up the stein and drank quickly, so quickly that the beer splashed onto his cheeks and dripped down his pale beard.
"Ye’re good men," Old Sam said easily, and grinned. He slapped Sharp on his back – and I knew that if Elsie and the soldiers decided to stay, they would sleep safe after all.
