‘We’ll station ourselves outside the door and beg until he shows up.’ The boy paused. ‘Are you going to kill him?’ he asked. ‘And if you are, can I watch?’

‘No. I just want to ask him a few questions.’

‘Oh.’ Talen’s voice sounded a little disappointed.

It was raining harder now, and Sparhawk’s cloak had begun to drip down the backs of his bare legs.

They reached Lion Street and turned left. ‘The brothel’s just up ahead,’ Talen said, tugging Sparhawk along by the corner of his dripping cloak. Then he stopped suddenly.

‘What’s the matter?’ Sparhawk asked him.

‘Competition,’ Talen replied. There’s a one-legged man leaning against the wall beside the door.’

‘Begging?’

‘What else?’

‘Now what?’

‘It’s no particular problem. I’ll just tell him to move on.’

‘Will he do it?’

Talen nodded. ‘He will when I tell him that we’ve rented the spot from Platime. Wait here. I’ll be right back.’

The boy crutched his way up the rainy street to the red-painted brothel door and spoke briefly with the one-legged beggar stationed there. The man glared at him for a moment, then his leg miraculously unfolded out from under his rough smock and he stalked off, carrying his crutch and muttering to himself. Talen came back down the street and led Sparhawk to the door of the brothel. ‘Just lean against the wall and hold the bowl out when somebody comes by. Don’t hold it right in front of them, though. You’re not supposed to be able to see them, so sort of stick it off to one side.’

A prosperous-looking merchant came by with his head down and his dark cloak wrapped tightly about him. Sparhawk thrust out his bowl. ‘Charity,’ he said in a pleading tone of voice.

The merchant ignored him.

‘Not too bad,’ Talen said. ‘Try to put that little catch I mentioned in your voice, though.’

‘Is that why he didn’t put anything in the bowl?’

‘No. Merchants never do.’

‘Oh.’

Several workmen dressed in leather smocks came along the street. They were talking loudly and were a bit unsteady on their feet.

‘Charity,’ Sparhawk said to them.

Talen sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘Please, good masters,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘Can you help my poor blind father and me?’

‘Why not?’ one of the workmen said good-humouredly He fished around in one of his pockets, drew out a few coins, and looked at them. Then he selected one small copper and dropped it into Sparhawk’s bowl.

One of the others sniggered. ‘He’s trying to get enough together to go in and visit the girls,’ he said.

That’s his business, isn’t it?’ the generous one replied as they went on down the street.

‘First blood,’ Talen said. ‘Put the copper in your pocket. We don’t want the bowl to have too many coins in it.’