Looking over at Scars, Tristan nodded toward the door, and Scars nodded back. Reaching down as best he could, Tristan stuffed the brain hook and vellum back into his boot and began dragging Rolf out by his heels. The dangerous, unsure crowd inched forward a bit more, but no one made a move to stop him.

Once through the door, Scars came quickly to Tristan's side and relieved him of Rolf. As though Rolf weighed nothing, the giant tossed him over the front of the saddle of one of the horses tied outside the inn, then freed the reins and mounted. Tyranny and Tristan untied two other horses, jumped into the saddles, and wheeled them around. As they charged away, Tristan looked over at Tyranny, and she smiled at him. Warily turning to look behind him, Tristan finally smiled, as well.

For the moment, no one was following.

CHAPTER

Forty-six

M arcus shifted his weight against the corner of the building as he watched the sun begin to set over the Plaza of Fallen Heroes. It was that special, indescribable hour of metamorphosis when the sky was just starting to change from the turquoise of day to the indigo of twilight. Then the blackness of a full-fledged night would cover everything, the stars peeking out from their distant hiding places in the heavens.

Marcus let out an exasperated breath. He had been waiting here for the last two hours, and he had more than one problem on his mind. As he looked around the hundredth time for a suitable victim, his stomach growled, reminding him of how long it had been since he had last eaten.

Rebecca waited for him at home in the dilapidated shack. She was by now no doubt as hungry as he was, for they'd consumed the last of their food early this morning. Pursing his lips, he thought of her alone with the scroll that lay buried beneath the single, shabby cot. 'Becca must be terrified, he realized. She always was whenever she was left on her own with the strange, wondrous artifact. He only hoped that it had not started glowing again while he was gone.

Marcus had come back to the plaza for two reasons. One was to find a suitable mark whose pocket he could pick. The second was to tell Mr. Worth that they had a deal for the scroll at thirteen thousand kisa, the amount they had agreed upon two days earlier. He assumed Worth would still want the scroll, but a delivery date had yet to be established, and he needed money to feed himself and Rebecca until then.

He looked across the street to Worth's storefront. It was a fairly nondescript place with a glass front and a sign over the door that read artifacts of the craft-all items guaranteed authentic. Several patrons had left the shop this afternoon, cradling their new possessions as though they had just purchased the greatest wonders of the known world. Marcus had smiled at them with rueful skepticism as they rushed home with their supposed treasures.

Over the course of the last two days he had found and approached two other parties regarding the scroll, but he had not trusted them the way he had Worth. He couldn't put his finger on it, but for some reason he felt that the fat, ruddy-faced artifacts dealer was for the most part honest, while his encounters with the other two had sent a chill up his spine-a warning he always heeded. Deciding his game was fast becoming too dangerous, he had returned to confirm the deal with Worth.

As he looked up the street again, he thought he saw a suitable candidate for pickpocketing. As his target exited a clothing shop several doors down the street, Marcus casually shifted his weight away from the wall and began walking directly toward him.

The man was well dressed and was still counting his coins as he walked out of the shop, his purchases in one hand, his money in the other. Unbelievably foolish, Marcus thought. He had been taught never to exit a place with money still in his hands. Not only could everyone see how much he had, but they could also see which pocket he deposited it in.

Slowing down, Marcus watched as the fellow stuffed his coins into the right inside pocket of his waistcoat. Perfect, he thought.

Squaring his shoulders a bit in order to maximize the impact, Marcus hurried his pace again and walked directly into his mark. As the man twisted in an effort to maintain his balance, his coat flew open. One of Marcus' hands slipped in and out in a flash, then straight down toward the top of his right boot to let the coins fall into it.

"Watch where you're going, you fool!" the man shouted angrily as he juggled his packages. After giving the man a quick, seemingly embarrassed nod of regret, Marcus gracefully stepped around him and kept on going.

But he only took a few carefully measured steps before darting across the street and into Worth's shop. Looking out one of the windows, he smiled. The man he had just robbed was turning the far corner, completely ignorant of how much poorer he had just become. Judging by the weight in his boot, Marcus had done very well. He turned back to look over the shop.

The place was filled with arcane objects, some of which looked very old. Mr. Worth was standing in the back, talking politely to a prosperous-looking man and woman. Marcus walked closer. When Worth saw him his face lit up, and he almost choked on his words.

After taking care of the couple, Worth hurriedly walked them to the door, locked it, and then turned its sign around, indicating that the store was closed. Then he drew the drapes across the windows and walked back over to where Marcus was standing, a hopeful look crowding in around the edges of his face.

"You're back!" he breathed excitedly. "I thought I might never see you again!" Reaching up, he nervously worried one end of his white mustache.

Marcus tried to display his best look of indifference. "The scroll shall be yours," he said. "For the thirteen thousand kisa that we agreed upon. Do we still have a deal?" Holding his breath, Marcus prayed that the shopkeeper hadn't changed his mind.

"Oh, yes!" Worth exclaimed ecstatically. He was fairly bursting with joy. "Yes indeed! But I will need three days to get the money together."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the sound of this. He had hoped to finish his dealings with Worth as soon as tomorrow, and be done with the scroll forever. He looked skeptically up into Worth's dark eyes. Worth seemed even more nervous now than the first time they had met. And if he wanted the scroll as badly as he said, then why didn't he already have the money ready? Marcus wondered. Or did he really have that kind of money at all? A cold sense of dread shot through him.

"Why the three days?" he asked. "I thought you were in a hurry to own the scroll."

"In order to pay you, I must liquidate my entire stock," Worth replied nervously. "I have talked to two other artifacts dealers, and they agreed to buy me out, lock, stock, and barrel. But it will take three days to accomplish the transaction. Then I can meet you wherever you choose."

Marcus thought for a moment, then finally decided that what Worth was telling him made some sort of sense. "Very well," he said finally. "Meet me at midday, in the same spot where we talked before. Near the stand where the old lady sells the throat larks to release. Do you remember?"

Worth nodded.

"Place the kisa into bags, and tie the bags onto a saddled horse," Marcus added. "I'll be moving fast, so follow my instructions to the letter, or the deal is off. My sister will be watching you, so don't try anything stupid. If I receive the wrong signal from her, I'll leave with the scroll, and you'll never see me again." He looked as hard into Worth's eyes as he dared.

"I understand completely," Worth answered quickly. "Everything shall be as you say."

Nodding, Marcus started toward the door. Then he paused and turned around. Smoothly pulling the knife from his trousers, he touched the button on its handle. It sprang open with a discernible click.