Read Player's Ruse for Free Online Page B

city, in some ways, for the potteries and brick works are our only large manufacturers. But we’re also the only deep-water port for dozens of leagues, and all the wine in the area ships out through us. Several of the major banks and insurance brokers have offices here. We usually have a ship’s manifest before it arrives. But none of the goods have surfaced anywhere in Lord Fabian’s fief, or that of any of his neighbors. And the reward’s high enough now to tempt any fence to come forward.”
    “So either they’re sitting on three years of highly identifiable loot,” said Fisk, brows knitting, “or they’re sending it off and fencing it elsewhere.”
    “The latter, I think.” Todd wiped a fresh splatter of drops from his face. “They take only jewelry and other small valuables—things that could be hidden in some larger cargo and shipped out without the captain even knowing what he carried. We’ve tried to check that possibility as well, but we can’t open every cask of wine or basket of crockery that leaves port. That’s a very knowledgeable comment, Master Fisk. Tell me, what brings you and Master Sevenson to Huckerston?”
    I believe he said it more because Fisk had annoyed him than from any true suspicion, but I answered quickly, before Fisk came up with some lie that would bring real suspicion on us when ’twas exposed.
    “I’m a knight errant, Master Todd, in search of adventure and good deeds, and Fisk is my squire. We’re escorting my cousin, who has come here to meet a friend.”
    Most folk laugh when I tell them this, a response to which I’ve become so accustomed, it no longer even pricks. Todd was one of the other sort—he drew back and examined me for signs of further, more dangerous insanity. I waited serenely.
    “I hope your business prospers, Master Sevenson.”
    “It’s Sir Michael, actually,” said Fisk, in a tone of helpful sincerity that sprang from pure mischief.
    “Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me . . .”
    He urged his horse forward and was gone without further ado.
    “Fisk . . .”
    “You started it. I’d think that by now you’d have learned to avoid the interest of the local law.”
    “Is he questioning us now? My argument rests. Fisk, if we’d gone to investigate that fire when we first saw it—”
    “We’d have met the same fate as the deputies the sheriff used to post,” said Fisk grimly. “And no one would have known about this till it was far too late.”
    He was right, and my mind knew it. ’Twas my heart that couldn’t accept it, and my sinking dread deepened as we approached the headland where the fire had been.
    I rode forward to point it out to the sheriff as soon as it came in sight, for the flames no longer burned. Without Fisk’s and my directions they’d never have found it.
    We had to backtrack several hundred yards to reach the trail that led down the bluffs to the beach—though calling it a trail was overly optimistic—’twas so narrow, we had to leave the horses atop the cliff and slither afoot down the muddy track, no more than a ledge in spots, with an unnerving drop beneath. My sword’s unaccustomed, awkward weight was a cursed nuisance, but ’twould do me little good in the roll on Chant’s saddle where I usually kept it. The irregular light when the moons peeked through the clouds was of little help, mayhap even a danger, for I kept trying to see if there was a ship upon the rocks instead of paying proper attention to my footing.
    Fisk’s mind dwelled on more practical matters. “No wonder they take only small stuff—not even a mule could carry much up this path. I wonder how many ships they’ve sunk, to find they carried only cotton bales, or lamp oil.”
    “Just two,” said one of the deputies behind us. He was a young man, with a workman’s leather britches and vest under his thick, rough coat. “Not that they didn’t have bulky stuff aboard the others, too, but except for those two the bastards have never hit a