Renard definitely knew the difference. He knew how good Yselle was to him, and maybe… but then, thoughts like that were almost as dangerous as a dozen guards; certainly capable of trapping him quicker.

Theres some money left, Renard said. Obviously, I had to pay off the guard who helped me, and the sailor. Then quite a bit of it… He hesitated.

You gave it away, didnt you? Yselle demanded, in that stern tone she seemed to do so well.

Well… Renard began, but the lie he was coming up with wilted under the weight of her stare. Some of it. A bit. Okay, most of it.

On that note, he could see a group of poor peasant farmers in one corner of the Broken Scales taproom. Renard wandered over to them, taking a small pouch of the coins hed liberated from Lord Carrick and placing it on the table.

Whats this? one of them asked, giving him a suspicious look. He was a broad-faced man of about forty, who had obviously worked for far too long in the sun because it had left him as weather-beaten as old stone.

I hear times have been hard this year, Renard said. Taxes, a poor harvest… hard times all round.

And youre giving us money? the farmer said.

Lord Carrick is giving you money, Renard said with a smile. He just doesnt know it. There should be enough there to pay your next round of taxes, at least.

Another of the men stood up, embracing Renard in a bear hug that stank of sheep.

Thank you, he said. My family will eat this winter. Who can I say helped them?

A humble man would have backed away, pretending that it was nothing. But then, Renard had never pretended to be a humble man. He stepped back and gave the elegant performers bow hed perfected for the rare moments when he got applause.

Renard, at your service.

They did applaud him then. He straightened up with a smile, caught his balance before his drunken feet could trip over themselves, and strode back to the bar. Well, more staggered than strode, but what could you do?

Yselle grabbed him as he got close enough and kissed him. You, she declared as she pushed another tankard toward him, are an idiot. A beautiful, wonderful idiot. What kind of man robs the local lord and then gives it away?

Well, Renard said. If I kept the gold, Id only drink it anyway.

He downed the beer in one, and could see Yselles eyes still on him. This was shaping up to be a good evening.

***

There were no words to describe how much Renards head hurt when he woke. Even opening his eyes hurt. Frankly, he felt as though having his head split open with an axe would be a blessed relief.

As if in some sick answer to that prayer, Renards eyes started to focus, letting him see the swords just inches from his throat.