The man grunted his agreement and lurched toward the pines. He stopped, breathing hard, and leaned back against a tree. Kinda woozy, he mumbled, his head drooping.
Althalus smoothly pulled his heavy bronze short-sword out from under his belt, reversed it and held it by the blade. Friend? he said.
Hmm? The mans face came up with a foolish expression and unfocused eyes.
Althalus hit him squarely on the forehead with the heavy hilt of his sword. The man slammed back against the tree and bounced forward.
Althalus hit him on the back of the head as he went by, and the fellow went down.
Althalus knelt beside him and shook him slightly.
The man began to snore.
That seems to have done it, Althalus murmured to himself. He laid his sword down and went to work. After hed removed his new wolf-skin tunic from the unconscious man, he took the fellows purse. The purse wasnt very heavy, but his drinking companions shoes werent too bad. The trip up from Maghu had left Althalus own shoes in near tatters, so replacing them was probably a good idea. The snoring man also had a fairly new bronze dagger at his belt, so all in all, Althalus viewed the entire affair as quite profitable. He dragged the man farther back into the shadows, then put on his splendid new tunic and his sturdy shoes. He looked down at his victim almost sadly. So much for wealth beyond counting, he sighed. Its back to stealing clothes and shoes, I guess. Then he shrugged. Oh, well. If thats what my luck wants me to do, I might as well go along with her. He half saluted his snoring victim and left the vicinity. He wasnt exactly deliriously happy, but he was in better spirits than hed been down in the low-country.
He moved right along, since he wanted to be in the lands of the next clan to the north before the previous owner of his fine new tunic awakened. By mid-morning of the following day, he was fairly certain that he was beyond the reach of last nights victim, so he stopped in the tavern of a small village to celebrate his apparent change of luck. The wolf-eared tunic wasnt equal to all that unrecognizable wealth in Druigors counting house, but it was a start.
It was in that tavern that he once again heard someone speak of Gosti Big Belly. Ive heard about him, he told the assembled tavern loafers. I cant imagine why a Clan-Chief would let his people call him by a name like that, though.
Youd almost have to know him to understand, one of the other tavern patrons replied. Youre right about how a name like that would offend most Clan-Chiefs, but Gostis very proud of that belly of his. He even laughs out loud when he brags that he hasnt seen his feet in years.
Ive heard tell that hes rich, Althalus said, nudging the conversation around to the topic that most interested him.
Oh, hes rich, all right, another confirmed the fact.
Did his clan happen to come across a pocket of gold?
Almost the same thing. After his father was killed in the last clan war, Gosti became Clan-Chief even though most of the men in his clan didnt think none too highly of him on accounta how fat he was. Gostis got this here cousin, though Galbak his name is and Galbaks about seven feet tall, and hes meaner than a snake. Anyway, Gosti decided that a bridge across the river that runs through their valley might make things easier for him when he had to go meet with the other Clan-Chiefs, so he ordered his men to build him one. That bridge isnt none too well-made, and its so rickety that its as much as a mans life is worth to try to cross it, but let me tell you, thats not a river that a man with good sense would want to wade across. The currents so swift that it carries your shadow a good half-mile downstream. That rickety bridge is as good as any gold mine, since its the only way to cross that river for five days hard travel in either direction, and Gostis cousins in charge of it, and nobody whos got his head on straight crosses Galbak. He charges an arm and a leg to cross, and thats how it is that Gostis got a sizeable chunk of the loose money in Arum salted away in that fort of his.
Well now, Althalus said, how very interesting.
Different lands required different approaches, and up here in the highlands of Arum our thiefs standard plan of attack had always been to ingratiate himself into the halls of men of wealth and power with humorous stories and outrageous jokes. That kind of approach obviously would not have worked in the stuffier cities of the plain where jokes were against the law and laughter was held to be in extremely bad taste.
Althalus knew that tavern stories are almost always exaggerations, but the tales of Gosti Big Bellys wealth went far enough to suggest that there was probably at least sufficient money in the fat mans fort to make a journey there worth the time and effort, so he journeyed to the lands of Gosti Big Bellys clan to investigate further.
As he moved north into the mountains of Arum, he occasionally heard a kind of wailing sound far back in the hills. He couldnt immediately identify exactly what kind of animal it was that was making so much noise, but it was far enough away that it posed no immediate threat, so he tried to ignore it. Sometimes at night, though, it seemed very close, and that made Althalus a bit edgy.
He reached the shaky wooden bridge hed been told about, and he was stopped by a burly, roughly dressed toll-taker whose hands and forearms were decorated with the tattoos that identified him as a member of Gostis clan. Althalus choked a bit over the price the tattooed man demanded for crossing the bridge, but he paid it, since he viewed it in the light of an investment.
Thats a fine-looking garment youve got there, friend, the toll-taker noted, looking with a certain envy at the wolf-eared tunic Althalus wore.
It keeps the weather off, Althalus replied with a casual shrug.
Where did you come by it?
Up in Hule, Althalus replied. I happened across this wolf, you see, and he was about to jump on me and tear out my throat so that he could have me for supper. Now, Ive always sort of liked wolves they sing so prettily but I dont like them well enough to provide supper for them. Particularly when Im going to be the main course. Well, I happened to have this pair of bone dice with me, and I persuaded the wolf that it might be more interesting if we played dice to decide the matter instead of rolling around on the ground trying to rip each other apart. So we put up the stakes on the game and started rolling the dice.
What stakes? the bearded clansman asked.
My carcass and his skin, of course.
The toll-taker started to laugh.
Well, Althalus began to expand the story, I just happen to be the best dice-player in all the world and we were playing with my dice, and Ive spent a lot of time training those dice to do what I want them to do. Well, to cut this short, the wolf had a little run of bad luck, so Im wearing his skin now, and hes up there in the forest of Hule shivering in the cold because hes running around naked.
The tattooed man laughed even harder.
Have you ever seen a naked wolf with goose-bumps all over him? Althalus asked, feigning a sympathetic expression. Pitiful! I felt terribly sorry for him, of course, but a bet is a bet, after all, and he did lose. It wouldnt have been ethical for me to give his skin back to him after Id fairly won it, now would it?
The toll-taker doubled over, howling with laughter.
I felt sort of sorry for the poor beast, and maybe just a little bit guilty about the whole business. Ill be honest about it right here and now, friend. I did cheat the wolf a few times during our game, and just to make up for that I let him keep his tail for decencys sake, of course.
Oh, thats a rare story, friend! the chortling toll-taker said, clapping Althalus on the back with one meaty hand. Gostis got to hear this one! And he insisted on accompanying Althalus across the rickety bridge, through the shabby village of log-walled and thatch-roofed huts, and on up to the imposing log fort that overlooked the village and the bridge that crossed the foaming river.
They entered the fort and proceeded into the smoky main hall. Althalus had visited many of the clan halls in the highlands of Arum, so he was familiar with these peoples relaxed approach to neatness, but Gostis hall elevated untidiness to an art-form. Like most clan halls, this one had a dirt floor with a fire-pit in the center. The floor was covered with rushes, but the rushes appeared not to have been changed for a dozen years or so. Old bones and assorted other kinds of garbage rotted in the corners, and hounds and pigs dozed here and there. It was the first time Althalus had ever encountered pigs as house-pets. There was a rough-hewn table across the front of the hall, and seated at that table stuffing food into his mouth with both hands was the fattest man Althalus had ever seen. There could be no question about the mans identity, since Gosti Big Belly came by his name honestly. He had pig-like little eyes and his pendulous lower lip hung down farther than his chin. A full haunch of roasted pork lay on the greasy table in front of him, and he was ripping great chunks of meat from that haunch and stuffing them into his mouth. Just behind him stood a huge man with hard, unfriendly eyes.
Are we disturbing him at lunchtime? Althalus murmured to his guide.
The tattooed clansman laughed. Not really, he replied. With Gosti, its a little hard to tell exactly which meal hes eating, since they all sort of run together. Gosti eats all the time, Althalus. Ive never actually seen him do it, but there are some here who swear that he even eats while hes asleep. Come along. Ill introduce you to him and to his cousin Galbak, too.
They approached the table. Ho, Gosti! the tattooed man said loudly to get the fat mans attention, this is Althalus. Have him tell you the story of how he came by this fine wolf-eared tunic of his.
All right, Gosti replied in a deep, rumbling voice, taking a gulp of mead from his drinking horn. He squinted at Althalus with his pig-like little eyes. You dont mind if I keep eating while you tell me the story, do you?
Not at all, Gosti, Althalus said. You do appear to have a little gaunt spot under your left thumbnail, and I certainly wouldnt want you to start wasting away right in front of my eyes.
Gosti blinked and then he roared with laughter, spewing greasy pork all over the table. Galbak, however, didnt so much as crack a smile.
Althalus expanded the story of his dice game with the wolf into epic proportions, and by night-fall he was firmly ensconced in the chair beside the enormous fat man. After hed told various versions of the story several times for the entertainment of all the fur-clad clansmen who drifted into the hall, he invented other stories to fill the hall of Gosti Big Belly with nearly continuous mirth. No matter how hard he tried, however, Althalus could never get so much as a smile out of the towering Galbak.
He wintered there, and he was more than welcome to sit at Gostis table, eating Big Bellys food and drinking his mead, as long as he could come up with new stories and jokes to keep Gostis belly bouncing up and down with laughter. Gostis own occasional contributions obviously bored his clansmen, since they were largely limited to boasts about how much gold he had stored away in his strongroom. The clansmen had evidently heard those stories often enough to know them all by heart. Althalus found them moderately fascinating, however.
The winter plodded on until it was finally spring and by then Althalus knew every corner of Big Bellys hall intimately.
The strongroom wasnt too hard to locate, since it was usually guarded. It was at the far end of the corridor where the dining hall was located, and three steps led up to the heavy door. A massive bronze lock strongly suggested that things of value were kept inside.
Althalus noticed that the night-time guards didnt take their jobs very seriously, and by midnight they were customarily fast asleep a condition not uncommon among men who take large jugs of strong mead to work with them.
All that was left to do now was to wait for the snow to melt and to stay on the good side of Gosti and his sour-faced giant cousin. If all went well, Althalus would be in a hurry when he left. Galbak had very long legs, so Althalus didnt want deep snow in the passes to slow him down enough for Galbak to catch up with him.
Althalus took to frequently stepping out into the courtyard to check the progress of the spring thaw, and when the last snowdrift disappeared from a nearby pass, he decided that the time had come for him to take his leave.
As it turned out, the strongroom of Gosti Big Belly wasnt nearly as strong as Gosti thought it was, and late one night when the fire in the pit in the center of the hall had burned down to embers and Gosti and his clansmen were filling the corners with drunken snores, Althalus went to that strongroom, stepped over the snoring guards, undid the simple latch, and slipped inside to transfer some ownership. There was a crude table and a sturdy bench in the center of the room and a pile of heavy-looking skin bags in one corner. Althalus took up one of the bags, carried it to the table, and sat down to count his new wealth.
The bag was about the size of a mans head, and it was loosely tied shut. Althalus eagerly opened the bag, reached his hand inside, and drew out a fistful of coins.
He stared at the coins with a sinking feeling. They were all copper. He dug out another fistful. There were a few yellow coins this time, but they were brass, not gold. Then he emptied the bag out onto the table.
Still no gold.
Althalus raised the torch hed brought with him to survey the room maybe Gosti kept his gold in a different pile. There was only the one pile, however. Althalus picked up two more bags and poured their contents onto the table as well. More copper sprinkled with a little brass lay on the now-littered table.
He quickly emptied out all the bags, and there wasnt a single gold coin in any of them. Gosti had hoodwinked him, and hed evidently hoodwinked just about everybody in Arum as well.
Althalus began to swear. Hed just wasted an entire winter watching a fat man eat. Worse yet, hed believed all the lies that slobbering fat man had told him. He resisted the strong temptation to return to the hall and to rip Gosti up the middle with his dagger. Instead he sat down to pick the brass coins out of the heaps of copper. He knew that he wouldnt get enough to even begin to pay him for his time, but itd be better than nothing at all.
After hed leached all the brass out of the heaps of copper, he stood up and disdainfully tipped the table over to dump all the nearly worthless copper coins onto the floor, and left in disgust.
He went out of the hall, crossed the muddy courtyard, and walked on down through the shabby village, cursing his own gullibility and brooding darkly about his failure to take a look into the strongroom to verify the fat mans boasting.