The Thief Who Spat In Luck's Good Eye (35 page)

The hairs on the back of my neck stirred faintly. Holgren shifted his hands to the sides of my neck, then cool fingers touched corners of my jaw, then my temples. My skin tingled and I repressed a shudder. It’s not that it was unpleasant. It wasn’t. It’s just that it was… intimate. More intimate than I was comfortable with. And the feel of his magic had a different quality to it than Kluge’s. More confident, somehow. More knowledgeable. Self-assured. The difference between a grope and a caress. I found myself blushing, and was glad Holgren couldn’t see my face.

“
You can sense me,” he remarked, a faint note of surprise in his voice. I nodded slightly, and the feel of whatever he was doing changed, somehow. Became more business-like. More formal. Almost remote. I found myself at once relieved and vaguely disappointed.

Finally he took his hands away. He sprawled out on the couch, and one hand dropped down. He rubbed between Bone’s eyes with a casual knuckle, and the dog stretched out and presented his chest. Holgren scratched dutifully.

“
Well?”

“
Well, you were right. This Kluge marked you with a location spell. A basic working, really, but sometimes the basic ones are the most reliable. At some point during your conversation he must have collected something particular to you. Most likely a hair. Then he makes physical contact with you, a simple handshake being quite sufficient.”

I remembered his hand on my back, in all probability plucking a fallen hair. “That sneaky—and then?”

“
And then he winds that hair around something, perhaps a pin, and places the pin on a specially prepared map.”

I frowned. “And then he watches the pin shift along the map as I go hither and yon.”

“
That’s about the size of it.”

“
So what do I do?”

“
Nothing. Right now that pin is rolling around like a sailor four hours into shore leave. He’ll know you’ve gone to see a mage, of course, but he would have known that if I’d simply severed the connection. Better he wonder who you might know who could tie his spell in knots.”

“
What? Why? You’re putting yourself in line for unnecessary scrutiny, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “When you came here you assured a knock on my door from the inspector, I think. I’d rather he come wary and respectful. When mages meet, there is a tendency towards discovering who has the greater talent. Occupational hazard, I suppose. Sometimes making the discovery can be hard on the furniture. Now he knows that, whoever I am, I am most likely his master in the Art. It will help head off any possible unpleasantness.”

“
If you say so. Still, I’m sorry to have gotten you involved. I owe you.”

He waved it away. “I am sorry about your friend. And interested in these statuettes, to tell you the truth. If you care to, you can come by again and I'll take a look at the one you have. If it is pre-Diaspora, I might be interested in purchasing it from you. I’d give you more than a hundred marks for it, and it will never see the open market.”

“
I’ll think about it. I have a feeling it might be useful to me in the near future.” As a lure, or a threat. “I’ll stop by tomorrow if I can.”

“
What will you do next?”

“
Get some sleep. Find out what there is to know about this Elamner that Corbin contracted with. Decide how best to approach him.” How to get in, knife him, and get out with a whole hide.

“
What about this one?”

“
Bone? I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do, and looking after that slob will be a pain.” I looked at the dog. He’d fallen asleep on his back under Holgren’s scratching, scarred ears splayed out like little wings, tongue lolling.

“
You could leave him here, for now. Until you make other arrangements. I could use the company. And he will make a nice pretense for your visit here when the inspector comes calling.”

I glanced around at the various bits of bodies under glass. “You aren’t in need of dog parts, are you?”

His expression was one of pained indignation.

“
Hey, I was going to make you an offer. Cheap.”

I managed to catch a hack just south of Daughter’s Bridge. On the ride back I mulled over my options, tried to figure out what my next move was. Corbin’s death had stirred up a hornet’s nest.

Kluge and company would be scrambling to find someone to pin his death on, before Corbin’s family came to town with blood on their mind. Heirus, I could safely assume, would still be looking for what he’d been willing to kill for. And of course some cold-eyed killers would be arriving in the next few days, come to collect their pound of flesh for Corbin’s old man. From every perspective, all roads could at some point lead to me. It was too late for me to back out, even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to.

There would be interesting days ahead.