A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

the treasures in her lap, then she looked up at the longshoreman. His expression was strange, haunted.
    "I've never used—" she gestured helplessly.
    Sharkbait's lips twisted in a painful smile. "I'll drop in at the Trollop tonight and show you how to cut a quill."
    "Who's it from?"
    "Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave. The nobleman with the cane. Shall I convey your thanks, Mouse?"
    "Wait," she said firmly. "I'll make him a drawing."
    Sharkbait leaned against the wall while she took one of the charcoal sticks and began. It was a portrait drawn from memory: her benefactor—looking down at something which interested him. Owl almost fancied he could hear the man saying 'Impressive,' in his dry way. When Mouse was done, she gave the drawing to Sharkbait. She held the stick out to him. "Write: 'Thank you from Mouse' on the bottom."
    "Write?" Sharkbait repeated. "You think I can write? "
    Mouse locked gazes with the man. "You said you'd teach me to cut a quill."
    He brushed his forehead with two fingers in a gesture of concession, then took the charcoal and carefully made letters across the bottom of the page. He handed the stick back to Mouse, and with no further comment, melted into the crowd.
    "Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave," Ferret repeated softly, rolling the name over her tongue as though she could discern some important information from the taste. "I wonder who he is."
    "I wonder how he knows Sharkbait," said Squirrel. "And how Sharkbait—Sharkbait!—learned to write."
    "I wonder," Mouse mused, "what Sharkbait would look like if he didn't have that horrible scar."
    They fell silent; Ferret looked around and got to her feet. "I'm off. I've fish to fry—and a Master to appease. Will you lot be at the Trollop later?"
    "After nightfall," Donkey answered. "I'm in disgrace."
    Ferret grinned at him. "Is that again—or still?"
    He shrugged. "Comes to the same thing. 'Til later, Ferret."

Chapter Four—Journeyman
    Ferret had had a good day. Owl's secret hoard, which she had counted in the privacy of her lair before she hid it away, amounted to an unthinkable total: four Nobles, six Half-Nobles, fifteen Guilds and fifty-two Commons. On top of this amazing stroke of fortune (which, after all, had to do with her friend and not herself, for all that it was a wonderful thing), there had been crowds of incautious people loitering on the waterfront, and not many Watch. By late afternoon, Ferret had more than enough to appease her Master. Buoyed by her high spirits, she began to play little games with herself—shadowing this Slum denizen; spying on that one. Usually, Slum dwellers left one another alone. For one thing, it deterred one from stealing when there was a fair chance one's mark might turn out to be important in the Thieves' Guild. As Ferret made her way to the Beaten Cur, she noticed a man on the street: he was better dressed than most Slum dwellers; it wasn't that his clothes were flashy, but they were of good quality, and clean. On an impulse, she tailed him. He didn't move like a Slum dweller. He carried his head with the unconscious arrogance of gentry. She smiled slowly. If he was a merchant or some petty nobleman slumming, he was more than fair game. Carefully, she sidled closer.
    Ferret's theft could have been a demonstration, it went so smoothly. One moment he had all his possessions; the next, an elegant leather purse rested inside Ferret's shirt. To make her escape, she scaled the wall of a decrepit warehouse; she watched the man saunter away, unaware of his loss. When he was out of sight—and after a careful scan of her rooftop perch—she slipped out his purse and opened it. Ferret nearly fell off the roof. In the purse were five, heavy yellow Royals, a lozenge shaped ivory miniature of a nobleman, and a gold and onyx signet ring. A wave of dizzying panic swept over her. This was no ordinary purse: it was the payment for a murder.
    Ferret tried to catch her breath, tried to think. She slipped the miniature out of the purse