The Redemption of Althalus Read Online Free Page B

sat down in a corner to listen.
    “Druigor’s strongbox is absolutely bulging with money,” one patron was telling his friends. “I stopped by his countinghouse the other day, and his box was standing wide open, and it was packed so full that he was having trouble latching down the lid.”
    “That stands to reason,” another man said. “Druigor drives very hard bargains. He can always find some way to get the best of anybody he deals with.”
    “I hear tell that he’s thinking about standing for election to the Senate,” a wispy-looking fellow added.
    “He’s out of his mind,” the first man snorted. “He doesn’t qualify. He doesn’t have a title.”
    The wispy man shrugged. “He’ll buy one. There are always nobles running around with nothing in their purses but their titles.”
    The conversation drifted on to other topics, so Althalus got up and quietly left the tavern. He went some distance down the narrow, cobblestoned street and stopped a fairly well-dressed passerby. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “but I’m looking for the countinghouse of a man named Druigor. Do you by any chance happen to know where it is?”
    “Everybody in Maghu knows where Druigor’s establishment’s located,” the man replied.
    “I’m a stranger here,” Althalus replied.
    “Ah, that explains it then. Druigor does business over by the west gate. Anybody over in that neighborhood can direct you to his establishment.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Althalus said. Then he walked on.
    The area near the west gate was largely given over to barnlike warehouses, and a helpful fellow pointed out the one that belonged to Druigor. It seemed to be fairly busy. People were going in and out through the front door, and there were wagons filled with bulging sacks waiting near a loading dock on one side. Althalus watched for a while. The steady stream of men going in and out through the front door indicated that Druigor was doing a lot of business. That was always promising.
    He went on up the street and entered another, quieter warehouse. A sweating man was dragging heavy sacks across the floor and stacking them against a wall. “Excuse me, neighbor,” Althalus said. “Who does this place belong to?”
    “This is Garwin’s warehouse,” the sweating man replied. “He’s not here right now, though.”
    “Oh,” Althalus said. “Sorry I missed him. I’ll come back later.” Then he turned, went back out into the street, and walked on down to Druigor’s warehouse again. He went inside and joined the others who were waiting to speak with the owner of the place.
    When his turn came he went into a cluttered room where a hard-eyed man sat at a table. “Yes?” the hard-eyed man said.
    “You’re a very busy man, I see,” Althalus said, his eyes covering everything in the room.
    “Yes, I am, so get to the point.”
    Althalus had already seen what he’d come to see, however. In the corner of the room stood a bulky bronze box with an elaborate latch holding it shut.
    “I’ve been told that you’re a fair man, Master Garwin,” Althalus said in his most ingratiating manner, his eyes still busy.
    “You’ve come to the wrong place,” the man at the table said. “I’m Druigor. Garwin’s establishment’s over to the north—four or five doors.”
    Althalus threw his hands up in the air. “I should have known better than to trust a drunkard,” he said. “The man who told me that this was Garwin’s place of business could barely stand up. I think I’ll go back out into the street and punch that sot right in the mouth. Sorry to have bothered you, Master Druigor. I’ll revenge the both of us on that sodden idiot.”
    “Did you want to see Garwin on business?” Druigor asked curiously. “I can beat his prices on just about anything you can name.”
    “I’m terribly sorry, Master Druigor,” Althalus said, “but my hands are tied this time. My idiot brother made some promises to Garwin, and I can’t think of any way to