Dully, Gilbert retrieved that from a box on a nearby shelf. His eyes never left the ring.

Shed destroyed the lien immediately. "Don't I still owe you a little something, though, Mr. Gilbert? Yes, I think so. Well, I'll do my best to see you get everything you've got coming."

Gilbert squinted angrily. Shed thought he saw a hint of fear, too. That pleased him. Nobody was ever afraid of Marron Shed, except maybe Asa, who did not count.

Best make his exit, before he stretched his luck. "Thank you, Mr. Gilbert. See you again soon."

Passing through the outer room, he was astonished to find Gilbert's men snoring. The frog-faced man grinned. Outside, Shed paid his guardians. "He wasn't as much trouble as I expected."

"You had us with you," the little man said. "Let's go to your place and have a beer."

One of the others observed, "He looked like he was in shock."

The little man asked, "How'd you ever get that far into a moneylender, anyway?"

"A skirt. I thought I was going to marry her. She was just taking me for my money. I finally woke up."

His companions shook their heads. One said, "Women. Got to watch them, buddy. They'll pick your bones."

"I learned my lesson. Hey. Drinks on the house. I've got some wine I used to keep for a special customer. He left town, so I'm stuck with it."

"That bad, eh?"

"No. That good. Nobody can afford it."

Shed spent his entire evening sipping wine, even after the sailors decided they had business elsewhere. He broke into a grin each time he recalled Gilbert's reaction to the ring. "Got to be careful now," he muttered. "He's as crazy as Krage."

In time the good feeling departed. Fear took over. He'd face anything Gilbert did alone, and he was still very much the same old Shed under the patina left by Raven and a few deals since.

"Ought to haul the bastard up the hill," he muttered into his mug. Then: "Damn! I'm as bad as Raven. Worse. Raven never delivered them alive. Wonder what that bastard is doing now, with his fancy ship and slick young slot?"

He got himself very, very drunk and very, very filled with self-pity.

The last guest went to his bunk. The last outsider went home. Shed sat there nursing his wine and glowering at Lisa, angry with her for no reason he could define. Her body, he thought. Ripe. But she wouldn't. Too good for him. And her pushiness lately. Yeah.

She studied him as she cleaned up. Efficient little witch. Better even than Darling, who had worked hard but hadn't the economy of movement Lisa had. Maybe she did deserve to manage the place. He hadn't done such a great job.

He found her seated opposite him. He glowered. She did not retreat. A hard lass, too. Wouldn't bluff. Didn't scare. Tough Buskin bitch. Be trouble someday.

"What's the matter, Mr. Shed?"

"Nothing."