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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “I have her,” Gamel cried in a soft, tense voice as he grasped Sir Lesley’s thickly muscled arm. “Lesley, watch this. Curse their eyes, but they are good. Verra, verra good. Watch her pretty right hand, my friend. See? There. She now has the purse off of that fool, now she takes the coin and, there, she puts the purse back. Now, watch closely as her left hand feints toward young Dane. See it? The lad has just pocketed the spoils.”

      Sir Lesley scowled, then scratched his head. “Weel, aye, I sense that something goes on but, I confess, I cannae see all that ye do.”

      Ligulf frowned in confusion. “But why does she return the purse?”

      “Ah, there is the true cleverness of their game. A mon doesnae cry thief if he still holds his purse and feels coins still weighting it. When the fool does count his coin, he will only be puzzled, not truly suspicious. Did I have three ales or four? he will ask himself. Mayhaps I came with less than I realized. These are the thoughts which will first come to his mind. And who would heed him if he did cry thief? The others would curse him for a cup-shotten fool. What thief leaves aught behind? People will tell the mon to count more carefully next time and cease making such a row.”

      “By the saints, that is clever, Gamel. But how will ye catch her then?”

      Slowly rising from his seat, Gamel murmured, “I will catch her ere she can return her next purse.” He began to stealthily make his way through the crowd toward Sine Catriona.

      Smiling at the man who asked her how Farthing could thrust a dagger through his arm yet not bleed, Sine Catriona shook her head. “I cannae tell ye that, kind sir.”

      “Come, mistress, ye must ken your mon’s secrets.”

      “Nay,” she demurred, looking coy even as she deftly lifted his purse. “What woman kens all her mon’s secrets?”

      “Verra few, thank the good Lord.” The man laughed.

      She laughed too, expertly extracted a third of the man’s worth and prepared to return his purse. Her blood ran cold when Gamel suddenly appeared, placing himself between her and her victim. He could not see the purse she held yet she knew at once that he was onto her game. That knowledge glowed in his fine eyes. She forcibly resisted the blind urge to bolt.

      “Here now,” Sine Catriona’s victim muttered. “Best to beware, friend. ’Tis the conjurer’s woman ye ogle.”

      “Will he turn me into a toad?” Gamel grinned at the man, who laughed heartily.

      Sine Catriona was strongly inclined to stick a knife in both of them, but she fixed Gamel with a beseeching look instead. “Please, sir,” she whispered.

      “Come and share a drink with me, Mistress Catriona.” He lightly trailed his fingers over her blanched cheek.

      Suddenly she knew what price he would demand to keep his knowledge of her thievery to himself.

      “Now,” he commanded in a near whisper, taking her by her left arm. “Master MacAdam serves a very fine mead.”

      “Aye,” agreed her victim. “He does and ’tis time for me to be refilled. Here,” he muttered. “Where is my purse?”

      With a skill she had learned early in the game, Sine Catriona bent and suddenly the purse was on the floor. “Ye but dropped it, sir.” She picked it up and handed it back to him. “Mayhaps it was knocked loose when this mon nudged between us. Ye should make certain it is weel secured.”

      “Aye, good lass. I feared the pikers had come to MacAdam’s at last.”

      “Nay, sir. He would ne’er allow it.”

      “Come,” Gamel urged. “Your drink awaits ye. ’Tis in return for your, and Master Magnus’s, gracious hospitality last eve.”

      Even as she obeyed his gentle but firm tug on her arm, she handed her spoils to Barre, who darted off to hide them. Although she was as careful as ever, Sir Gamel’s gaze followed her fleeting movement, which strengthened her conviction that he knew everything. She briefly noted how Dane and Farthing watched as Gamel led her to his table and sat down, tugging her to his side on the small bench. It was a seat made more for one than two. She prayed there would be no trouble.

      “And such sweetness in your lovely face,” Gamel murmured, giving her a look which said he mourned her lack of integrity.

      “Thank ye, kind sir,” she said, maintaining a false bravado in the face of his triumph. Then she tensed as she saw Farthing move toward them.

      Having ended his trick and extracted himself from those who asked to see more of his art, Farthing strode to the table where Sine Catriona now sat. Gamel’s expression held too much confidence for his liking. It was as if Gamel knew the game was won, and in his favor. Placing his hands palm down on the smooth table, Farthing leaned slightly toward Gamel.

      “I hadnae thought ye were so slow of understanding, Sir Gamel. She is mine.”

      “She is a thief,” Gamel retorted in a voice soft enough that no others heard the condemnation.

      Glancing swiftly at Sine Catriona, Farthing watched her nod and felt himself go pale. Somehow Sir Gamel had seen what she was up to, and now intended to take full advantage of his discovery. Farthing experienced the cold, heavy realization that the man was right to think he had won the game. Gamel now held a weapon Farthing could not deflect.

      “Would ye cry her a thief?” he asked, looking back at Gamel.

      “I might.” Gamel brushed Sine Catriona’s still pale cheek with his knuckles.

      “But ye might not.” Farthing immediately guessed what bargain was about to be offered, and rage surged through his body.

      “Nay, I might not.” Gamel met Farthing’s cold, black gaze.

      “And what price do ye ask for this charity?”

      “She abides with me this night.”

      “So ye willnae cry her a thief if she plays the whore for ye.” Farthing saw a flash of regret, a touch of guilt, in the man’s look, but knew it would be useless to try to play upon it.

      “She abides with me this night,” Gamel repeated.

      “Nay, I think ye bluff, knight. Ye want her too badly to set her at such risk.”

      “Aye, I want her badly. There are those, however, who can want so badly they are willing to see what they are denied, denied to all. If they cannae have it, no mon shall. Are ye willing to test if I am such a mon?”

      A fine tremor went through Farthing as he struggled to keep clear headed, fought the blinding fury building within him. He wanted to cut the man down on the spot. Sine Catriona’s soft hand covering one of his tightly clenched ones brought his attention to her.

      “Ye have ever taught me to weigh one choice against another.” She held her hands out above the table, palms up, as if they were a set of scales. “Here is what Sir Gamel requests for his silence.” She dropped her left hand down just a little. “Here is branding. Here is the gaol with the men who guard it. Here too is the chance they will wish the names of accomplices. Could I hold silent beneath СКАЧАТЬ