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"Now, Hunter-Doune," the swordswoman said, "come
join Peverell and me for a drink and a bite, eh?" She
sheathed her weapon. "It could be to your profit."
I eyed Peverell, back at the table and happily sorting
through his take. "Hasn't been so far," I said.
"I suppose you're right. Pev! Give Doune his purse."
The kender screwed up his face in protest, but he
emptied the gold coins onto the table, then tossed the purse
to me.
"AND the gold," the woman said firmly.
Long eyes bright, the kender cocked his head.
Something needing no words passed between the two and -
for a wonder - Peverell scooped up the coins, came and
gave them all to me. I took the gold, pursed it, and stashed
it in my deepest pocket, watching him trot back to the table.
He was uncannily quiet for one of his kind. I smiled sourly.
"Someone cut out his tongue?"
"No," she said, "someone slit it. Works out the same. A
bounty hunter who took him and couldn't stand the chatter.
Didn't keep him, though. Kender are hard to hold. But I
expect you know that. Now," she said, cold and no longer
pretending courtesy. "Do you want to know where the
heretic Kell is hiding, or is that little bit of gold enough to
keep you happy?"
*****
Chance brought us platters piled high with mutton and
cabbage and potatoes, a jug of wine for me, and a great
pitcher of ale for the others
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