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Pinch saw the fate of the warrior turned statesman, the toll that years of compromise and patience would extract from the flesh.
    Pinch stared until he realized he was staring, then he gave an embarrassed snort of disgust as if to claim his shock was only an act. "I'm not such a gull, Cleedis. There are my dear cousins; what about the princelings four?"
    Cleedis thrust the sword into the carpet and hobbled a step forward using the weapon like a cane. "Bors is an idiot -can barely hold his drool in at a temple service," the king's chamberlain growled. "The other three hate each other with a passion. Each claims sole right to the Cup and Knife. Vargo started it, figuring he could muscle the other two out of the race. With only one claimant, the priests would nullify the test and pronounce him the true heir."
    The tale was beginning to amuse Pinch, in as much as it was all his adopted family deserved. He lay back on the pillows, although one hand was always near the knife. "Throdus and Marac didn't agree? By Beshaba, dissension in the house."
    "There'll be civil war!"
    "So when they're all gone, you want me, the forgotten ward, to come to Ankhapur's rescue and carry on the family name? How generous, Cleedis."
    Cleedis stabbed at the floor in anger. "I'll not put a thief like you on the throne!"
    Pinch sprang to the edge of the bed. "Ho! Little kingmaker Cleedis now! My, what you've become. So what is it you want of me then?"
    The courtier stalked back to his chair. "Just a job. A quick and quiet solution to our problem."
    "Why me? You could get any queer-bird to lay them down with a cudgel, just for freedom from the gaol -or have you lost all your influence with Manferic's death?" The aged courtier's glare told Pinch all he needed to know. "Aye, now there's a turn of Tymora's wheel. You used to inspire fear in them, and now you probably don't even have the coin for a black spell from a Thavian outcast. That's why you've come to me." The rogue let loose a gloating chuckle and settled back onto the silken pillows.
    "It's not that way," was Cleedis's terse reply. "First, it's not the princes we're after. If anything odd should happen to your cousins, there'll be war for sure. In the second part, you can dance on the twisted hemp before I'd come looking for you. I'm here at Manferic's bidding."
    "Oh, dear guardian; so like Manferic. He plots even after his death." It was time to be off the bed and to the door. "Go back to his grave, Cleedis, and tell him I'm not coming. I like things just as they are here."
    "Heard there was trouble in town last night," the elder drawled like a snake uncoiling. Pinch knew he was hearing trouble, but he kept his stride steady. He wasn't going to play the chamberlain's game.
    "You are a fool, Janol -or Pinch, should I call you? Here I am in Elturel, where nobody's even heard of Manferic or Ankhapur, and you don't even wonder how I found you."
    That stopped Pinch with his hand at the door.
    The seat creaked and then the floor groaned with a heavy thunk-clunk as Cleedis hobbled over, sword as cane. "The priests of Ankhapur," the courtier wheezed out, "have gotten quite good at tracking you. Shall I tell you where you were last night?"
    Pinch stared blindly at the woodwork in front of him. "I was drinking." He could hear his own words locking into the cool monotone of a lie and cursed himself for getting caught.
    "Maybe you were. It doesn't matter," the courtier allowed with the smooth, cold smile of a basilisk. "Guilty or innocent, it doesn't matter to me or the constables – what are they called?-Hellriders of this town. Just a word is all it takes."
    Pinch turned a half step toward his tormentor.
    "Not a bit of it, Janol," the old man said as he weakly swung his sword to guard. "You can't imagine me trekking to Elturel alone. I die and you're surely doomed."
    "Bastard fool, you've got no proof and I've got evidences who'll swear for me."
    Sword still up, Cleedis blew on his free hand to warm his