“My father was a teamster,” said Roo, “and I’ve driven enough to know yours wasn’t serviced regularly”—which he knew to be the truth—“and with the traces all cut up, there’s not a lot but four wheels and a flatbed”—which was also true.
Jacoby was silent a minute, his dark eyes studying Roo while he thought. “How many porters?”
“Eight,” said Roo, knowing Jacoby could check with the Porters’ Guild easily enough.
Jacoby said, “Show me my goods.”
Roo looked back to where McKeller stood. The old man nodded and Roo moved across the street. The storm had halted late the night before, but the streets were still deep in mud. Jacoby had arrived by carriage, and Roo took silent delight as the fancy boots and the lower half of his trouser legs were fouled by the thick muck.
Reaching the door, Jacoby looked at the heavy lock. “How’d you get the key?”
“I didn’t,” said Roo, easily pulling the hasp away. The screws came out and one fell to the porch. Roo picked it up and stuck it back in the hole. “The owner obviously thought no one was likely to steal his house.”
He pushed open the door and led Jacoby to where his cargo was hidden. Jacoby did a quick inventory, then said, “Where’s the rest?”
“Rest?” said Roo innocently.
“There was more than this,” said Jacoby, anger barely held in check.
Roo then knew for certain what the plan had been. The silk had been smuggled in from Kesh to the Krondorian docks. From there it had to get to the trader’s office, with the sailor duped into driving the wagon for some quick gold. If Royal Customs arrested the sailor, Jacoby could claim that he knew nothing of the silk and that the sailor was smuggling it in Jacoby’s wagon without his knowledge. Any guild teamster, or even an independent such as his father had been, would have checked the cargo against the manifest, to ensure that he was not accused of stealing something never loaded. But a drunken sailor who was lying about his ability to drive a single horse-drawn wagon was likely not even to think about what was in the back.
Roo looked at the man and calmly said, “Well, if you’d like to go to the constable’s office and swear out a complaint, I’ll be more than happy to accompany you. I’m sure he will be almost as interested as the Royal Customs office to know why you’re concerned with something not accounted for on this bill of lading.”
Jacoby fixed Roo with a dark stare, but after a moment it was clear he could do nothing. Both men knew what was going on, but at this point Jacoby had only two options left open to him, and he took the obvious choice.
Jacoby nodded once to the man on his right. From within his jacket he produced a dagger as Jacoby said, “Tell me what you did with the silk or I’ll have him cut your heart out.”
Roo moved to the center of the room, giving himself space to defend himself. He had a dagger secreted in his own boot, but waited to pull it. Jacoby’s two thugs might be dangerous to an untrained man in a tavern brawl or if they had the drop, but Roo knew his own abilities, and unless these men were as skilled as the men Roo had trained with, Roo knew he could defend himself.
“Put that away before you hurt yourself,” Roo said.
Whatever reaction Jacoby had expected, that wasn’t it. “Cut him!” he said.
The first thug lunged forward while the second pulled his belt knife. The first attacker found Roo’s hand on his wrist, and suddenly pain shot up his arm as Roo dug his other thumb into a particularly delicate set of nerves in his elbow. He quickly wrestled the knife from the man’s hand and let it fall to the floor, deftly kicking it aside. He then disposed of the first guard with a kick to the man’s groin, causing him to groan as he collapsed.
The second thug was disposed of as quickly, and Jacoby pulled his own knife. Roo shook his head as he said, “You really shouldn’t do this.”
Jacoby’s temper got the best of him and he made a growling sound as he lunged at Roo. Roo easily got out of the man’s way, gripped his arm as he had the first man’s, and found the same bundle of nerves. But rather than jabbing to force the fingers limp, Roo ground his thumb into his elbow, ensuring as much pain as possible. Jacoby cried out softly as his knees buckled and his eyes filled with tears. Then Roo released his grip and the dagger fell from limp fingers. Roo calmly picked it up.
Jacoby knelt, holding his right elbow with his left hand. Roo calmly took the dagger and reversed it, handing it to Jacoby. “You dropped this.” The first thug was slowly trying to regain his feet and Roo could tell he would need to soak in a cold bath to reduce the swelling in his groin. The second guard looked at Jacoby with uncertainty written on his face.
Jacoby said, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Avery. Rupert Avery. My friends call me Roo. You can call me Mr. Avery.” He waved the dagger.
Jacoby took the dagger and looked at it a moment.
Roo said, “Don’t worry, I can take it back any time I want.’’