laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Sceva led Victor through the crowded marketplace. Turin, like most sizable towns, was full of activity and noise, the business of life. Though he always felt more at home in the woods and natural places of the world than he did in cities, he always found the bustle and life of cities to be fascinating.

He quickly led Victor past the raw, rancid smell of the butcher's shop, walked past the fabrics, and stopped in front of the vegetable stand. He tightened his grip on Victor's bridle as the horse strained for the delightful treats. Sceva patted the horse's brown neck.

"Patience, my friend. They will be yours soon enough."

He picked out some carrots, pointed the shopkeeper to some fruit, and pulled some bronze pieces from his purse. He pulled Victor over to the corner of the shop, away from the crowded street and knelt down. The acrid smoke of the blacksmith's forge across the street assaulted his nostrils, but had reminded him to check Victor's shoes. As he lifted the leg closest to him, his eye caught on a figure very different from the others in the marketplace.

The man, of medium build with grey hair and a weathered and scarred face, was across the street pretending to shop. In many ways, he was probably doing the worst job of surveillance Sceva had ever witnessed. His armor made him conspicuous among all the townspeople, he was obviously a rough man but was browsing in the textile shop among the seamstresses, and many of the townspeople who saw him treated him with great respect - not quite obeisance, but definitely respect. He was too well-known to be stealthy.

Sceva pretended not to notice him and continued inspecting Victor's feet. The horse's shoes appeared fine, so he thought quickly of other errands he "needed" to perform while in town. Oh yes, his cookpot was getting pretty worn; he'd better go see the tinker. He had passed the tinker's shop not long after leaving Sheriff Bergoyne's office, which meant he would be doubling back - all the better to verify if this inept spy were really interested in him, or someone else standing close by. Besides, he could think of some questions to ask the tinker in an effort to better understand what was going on around here.

The tinker ran his shop out of a small building with an open-air workshop in the back. He was in the back working a small forge, suitable for the small size items and copper metal common to his trade, when Sceva arrived.

"Good day, sir. May I help you?"

"Yes, I need some repairs to my cookpot, if you please."

"Very well, if you leave it there on the table, it will be ready on the morrow."

"I also need some information... who would be a jeweler of suitable skill to craft this?" He produced the silver necklace from the farmhouse and watched the tinker's eyes grow wide.

"Damn," he wispered. "I know that. There's only one place in town for something like that. Madame Paulanne, that's who you want to see."

He put the necklace back into his pocket. "I take it, then, that this is a unique item?"

"You got that right. Only ones I see 'round here with something like that are those kids that go hanging around that Ukaris fellow. You're a little old, if you're looking to join up with him."

Sceva brushed the side of his cloak back to reveal the crest of Elminoir emblazoned on the left breast of his leather armor. "I don't wish to join with him, but I would very much like to find him. I have some questions for him in connection with what happened out at the Godfrey place."

The tinker put aside his copper pot and drew close, his voice falling to a whisper. "Look here, stranger. I don't like what happened out there one bit, but you watch yourself if you go sticking into that business. People 'round here mind their own business or it gets minded for them, you understand?"

"No, I think you'd better explain it to me... I'm a little slow."

The tinker glanced around and got even closer and quieter, as if he were afraid of ears in the very walls. "Ukaris and his boys are bad news. He's trouble on feet, is what he is. Goes 'round with five or six fellows at all times, and they'd rather spit on you than look at you. They talk big about how they're 'preparing the way' for Sater to rule this land. Nobody does anything about them, 'cause word is they come from rich families in Baden city, and there's plenty of Sater's folk in this town."

"Really? Saterists here in Turin?"

"This town is infested with 'em. I'd up and leave myself, if I didn't owe so much money on my forge still. I -- hello, sergeant."

Sceva turned to see his conspicuous observer from the textile shop standing at the corner of the workshop. "Frederick, I was just at the bakery and they were wondering when their items would be ready," the sergeant said. "What should I tell them?"

"I'll have them done tomorrow morning, right after I finish this man's cookpot."

At that, Sceva saw an opportunity. "I have need of it sooner, as I am leaving for Sonvico as soon as possible. May I pay you extra to pick it up in an hour?"

"For two extra bronze, you can have it in two hours."

"Very well. I thank you for your quick service, and I'll see you in two hours. Good day. Good day, sergeant."