Arlo took a moment, watching the big bald man, observing his movements for a few moments.
"Yes. He's big. Obviously strong. But look at his arms; they're the arms of a laborer, not a warrior. Large muscles, built up from a lifetime of lifting heavy things. You can see the cuts, just there on his scalp, from something being smashed across his head. So he's a brawler, not a disciplined warrior. Which isn't unusual for this city."
Arlo paused a moment to observe some more, then continued.
"Man like him, what's he doing in the marketplace at this time of day? If he's a laborer, he would be slaving away, earning his keep. Laborers can't afford to lose their comissions so easily; you'd only find them out and about at night, drinking their lives away in a tavern. Now he could be on break, but the overwhelming likelihood is that he isn't a laborer at all. So what is he?"
Arlo indicated slightly with his hand.
"Could be an enforcer, for a local gang. Notice the tattoo on his right arm ... there, just as he turns. Gang sign. He isn't shaking down any of the merchants, and he has the calm, confident swagger of a man who knows where he's going. So He's probably a punisher, then, sent out to send a message to someone."
Arlo pointed to the coin purse.
"Notice how the purse is not that large, yet he carries it out in the open. Foolish. I doubt you'd be able to snatch it but an expert cutpurse could grab it in seconds. He's using it to intimidate. The more expert enforcers are confident enough in their own ability, they don't need to rely on cheap tricks."
Arlo sighed slightly as he concluded his lesson.
"What does all this mean for us? It means the man is related to a gang but just barely. He's a new enforcer, eager to please. If I do this correctly, we should get what we need in a few rings. Wait here."
Arlo approached the big bald man confidently, his face a mask of neutrality.
"They aren't coming." Arlo announced to the man evenly. The big man started, then stared at Arlo and growled.
"Whaddaya mean, they ain't comin'?" he grabbed Arlo by the scruff and held him up. "Who da petch are you?!" he grabbed
"Does it matter?" Arlo asked calmly, despite being a foot off the ground. "You might want to put me down."
The big bald man laughed, his crooked teeth glinting in the sunlight. "Yeah, or I could squash ya, bug!" he sneered.
Arlo smiled, a coldly calculating smile. "Sure," he agreed. "Just, before you do, I have to ask, do you know Farik the Ragged?" Farik was a fairly high-ranking member of the Sunberth "Bloods", a relatively small gang making its name by roughing up merchants. It was their tattoo he had spotted on the big man's shoulder.
The big man narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, what about 'im?"
"Just asking. You sure you don't wanna put me down?"
"What about Farik?!" the big man shook Arlo like a rag doll.
"Put me down, bring him here, find out," Arlo replied calmly after the shaking stopped, and his teeth stopped clattering in his head.
The big man paused for a long moment, then put Arlo down, like he knew he would. He had to. A low-level enforcer like him couldn't afford to bother a big-shot like Farik. If he annoyed the big shot too much, next day it would be his head on the chopping block. That was how gangs worked.
"Waddaya want?" he asked, glaring at Arlo suspiciously.
"An apology, for one. Unless you want me to mention this to Farik, next time we meet."
The big man started at Arlo as though he'd grown an extra head. "What if I smash your skull in, then, so you don't meet 'im?" he growled, dangerously.
"Then Farik will miss his next eight shipments. And believe me, he'd find out why. Let's just say I have an associate or two watching this exchange. Should anything happen to me, I promise you, word will get out."
The big man's eyes opened in panic and darted this way and that. To his paranoid mind, every merchant was staring at him, every cutpurse was casing him, everyone was a potential witness. He didn't even notice Amora in the dark alleyway.
"S ... s ... sorry." the word came out as half a choke, half a growl, and sounded as though it was being windlassed out of him. Arlo shook his head and held out his palm.
"I'm goin to need a little more than a half-hearted sorry," Arlo bit out, harshly. His face was an iron mask. The big man snarled, his face full of barely suppressed rage. For a moment, it looked as though he would attack Arlo. Finally, after a moment, the big man took off his pouch and handed it over.
"Whats does ya wants, anyway? Ya comes here, yas threatens me, and I stills don't know whats ya want!"
"I told you already. When we first met. They aren't coming. You know who I'm talking about. If it were up to me, I'd have delivered the message and left. You were the one who was looking for trouble." Arlo gave the man a hard look. "Go home. If I were you, I'd hope we don't meet again."
The man spat out a few more choice obscenities before fleeing the scene. Arlo returned to Amora, calmly opening the pouch and counting its contents. Fifteen gold Mizas, plus an assortment of silver and copper. A reasonable amount.
"Information is a weapon, Amora," Arlo explained, off the girl's look. "If you know how to use it, it is as lethal as a knife. The next step will require light fingers."
He tossed the small pouch to Amora.
"We'll need that pouch. Leave six gold miza in there. Keep the rest."
Arlo looked up at the sun. What bell was it? He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling the bells were slipping away quickly. They needed to do this before sunset.
"Do you know how to plant an item on someone?" |