There was much to be said for running a tavern, thought Devlin as he took a sip of ale. For one thing, days like this, when the warm glow from the hearth was laced with the aroma of the stew cooking in the pot over the fire. He'd spent the better part of the morning unloading supplies and now could enjoy the fruits of his labors. Yes, it was a good day!

"Devlin! John, come quick!"

Grace rarely yelled for help like that, so Devlin set down the mug and raced out of the kitchen to the common room. The dark haired beauty turned to him and then pointed towards the front door. "Quick, catch him! He just left!"

"Who just left? Someone skip out on paying?"

"Just the opposite! He left his coin purse! Go after him, John!" She held out a gray cloth purse and waited until Devlin finally reached over to take it.

"Grace, surely he'll realize it and return? And who is 'he' anyway?"

"Master Grayson!" Grace shook her head. "The quiet one with the red boots. Go after him with it, John. We can't afford another incident so soon after that brawl those pirates started. Just a hint of theft here and we'll lose more business."

Devlin frowned. Grace was a bit jumpy since the incident with the O'Malley brothers. He tucked the purse in his belt and nodded. "Which way did he go?"

"I don't know! Surely Korys saw him? Please, John? Before he comes back to accuse us of stealing it?"

"Alright, love, calm yourself. I'll go after him." He leaned forwards, pecked her cheek with a quick kiss, and ran out the door. Korys was lounging on the step with his own tankard of ale. He looked up as Devlin tapped him on the shoulder. "Korys, which way did the man with the red boots go?"

The barbarian blinked at his friend. "Redboots? That one went that way, back towards the gate. Ran, too!" He shook his head and took a pull on his ale. "Men in towns always run, run, run."

Devlin didn't hear that part. He was already running.

*********

Unlike the rest of the city, most of The Hook's streets and alleyways were unpaved, for cobblestones could be pried up and hurled at unsuspecting troopers. Luckily for Devlin, there'd been a cold spell recently, so the dirt was frozen hard and the footing easier than usual for running. He pounded around the corner after Grayson, then stopped to see if he could spot the man. Across the way, some of the Faded Rose ladies were sitting on a bench, sunning themselves like a bunch of old cats.

"`Allo, Johnny? Chasin' after someone?"

" Did any of you see a man with redboots?"

Hands pointed in six directions, including skywards and downwards.

"He ran out on his bill!" Devlin figured as ladies of commerce they'd be more sympathetic if he appealed to their more practical natures. He was proven right when the women all pointed north towards the gate. "Thank you, ladies" He started up Shore Road after his man , shouts of encouragement (and one proposition) echoing behind him.

It was near midday, and only self-respecting citizens went out and about in The Hook in the daylight hours, which meant there were very few folk out at all to get in Devlin's way. He caught sight of someone ahead of him who was not running, but was walking at a very brisk pace. "Hey you, Grayson! You left this!" The man looked back over his shoulder at Devlin. John held the purse up so Grayson could see it and smiled.

A horrified expression was on the man's face as he turned and ran for the gate into the upper city.

"Damn it. Wait, I'm not going to hurt you!" Devlin called after Grayson, then started running himself until he'd passed through the gate into the Camelot market square. There were considerably more people here, since there were more law abiding folk than in The Hook. Merchants hawked their wares from brightly colored booths to warmly dressed customers while a diminutive figure sat atop the wall and played a pipe gaily. Devlin strained to see over the heads of those in front of him, but it was hard to pick out the plainly cloaked Grayson in the flow of the crowd. He headed for the one person who might have noticed a man with red boots.

A few years ago, the Commander of the BlackWatch had a set of stocks built in the middle of the market place to display minor criminals as a warning on the hazards of breaking the law. Most of the time they were occupied by Rorik a likeable enough fellow until he drank too much and got into a brawl. Today was no different. Devlin made his way over beside the stocks and leaned down so the bent over Norseman could see his face.

"Good day, Rory. Did you happen to see a pair of red boots come this way?" Rorik laughed. "What's it worth to you?"

"An ale on me at Grace's"

"Done! He went that way." Rorik's left hand twisted in the stock and his index finger pointed north towards merchant's quarters. "I'll be by tonight for that ale."

Devlin nodded with a grin and set out for the northern end of the market. The sound of the piping ceased for a few seconds, but then seemed to grow louder as he picked up speed. He was about to look back to see why when he caught sight of Grayson again as the man turned down a side street towards the docks. John broke into a flat out run and was about the corner before Grayson was halfway to the dock. "Master Grayson, please stop!" But the other man continued to run.

Behind Devlin, the music once more seemed to draw nearer.

And then Grayson stopped. He'd raced out onto the dock at the street's end, but there was nowhere to go from here. Devlin gratefully slowed down and walked out to join him there, then took a few deep breaths and held out the purse.

"You forgot your coinpurse."

Grayson stared at Devlin in fury as he held out his hand, but as John was about to give it over, a pipe played some lightly mocking notes behind him.

"Actually, the purse is mine. Isn't it, Grayson?" Tyralor McDougal gave a bright smile and stepped forwards. "I'll take what's mine. Now."

"Please! Don't hurt me, I didn't mean…"Grayson took a step back and his foot found nothing but air. Then his arms flailed, and the purse flew up into the air, Tyralor's hand reaching out to snatch it before it could fall over the side of the dock and before Devlin could grab it himself.

Grayson, on the other hand, fell.

There was a hard thump, and Devlin looked down. The tide was low and there was a good ten foot drop to the deck of a small boat tied up at one of the pilings. Grayson lay atop it, neck twisted at such an angle there was no doubt the man was dead. Tyralor shook his head and looked reproachfully at Devlin. "I thought you would grab for him, not the bag. Poor Grayson; he really didn't have the nerves for his chosen profession." The smaller man tucked his recovered purse back into his cloak, then looked down at Grayson again. "Ah well. You know what they say about the road to hell."

Devlin nodded. "It's paved with good intentions?"

Tyralor smiled. "Really? I was thinking more along the lines that the first step is a killer. Well, as edifying as all this has been, I've a friend to go wake up. You will tell the Watch I didn't push him, won't you? Good day, Master Devlin. My best to your Grace." He smiled politely and walked away, leaving Devlin to summon the Watch and to wonder how well Tyralor McDougal knew Grace.

*********

It was nearly two hours later when Devlin slipped into the kitchen of the tavern and took his seat again by the hearth. Grace looked up from where she was slicing some meat. "So. Did you find him? What did he say when you gave him back his purse?" She poured Devlin a new ale and handed him the mug.

Devlin had considered what to tell her when he returned. Lying was out of the question of course, but he could be truthful and still avoid telling her what the outcome had been. He took a sip of ale, then wiped the foam from his lip.

"Why, love, he was speechless!"

02/2003