King Pinch Read Online Free PDF

along with the impoverished prestidigitators who went from door to door offering their skills. "A quick spell to clean your house, a word to sweeten your wine? Or perhaps, madam, you're looking for something to make your husband a little more amorous. I can do these things for you, madam. It'll only take a few coins… and he'll never know what happened."
    Pinch knew these old tricks well. Tomorrow the house would be dirty again; in a few days, the husband would be as doltish as ever. The wizard wouldn't care. Some probably wouldn't even remember, the grinding scramble of the day drowned away by cheap wine in taprooms like the Dwarf's Piss Pot. That was the way things were -everybody out to make their coin.
    It was the hypocrites who pretended to live above it who irritated Pinch. He'd dealt with constables, trusties, watchmen, even executioners, buying them with a few gold or silver coins, and yet they still pretended to be pure and unimpeachable. That was a joke; nobody was beyond gold's reach. Rogues knew the lies and self-deceptions men used, and made their living trading on those weaknesses. Perhaps that was why Pinch stayed in the bottom town, unlike other upright men who pretended to the ranks of the gentry. Down among the common folk, at least a man knew his business and wasn't ashamed of it.
    Pinch abandoned his ruminations at the door to the Five-League Lodge, a sprawling compound of timber and stone. He stepped through the door and into the common room, this one a good deal cleaner than the place he had just left. The hall was empty save for a single charwoman cleaning the floor. Her dress hung in greasy tatters, far out of keeping with the fine appointments of the room.
    "Girl, come here," Pinch commanded as he took a chair. After a start of surprise, the woman hesitantly shuffled over. As she drew near, Pinch laid a silver coin on the table and idly pushed it about with one finger. "Do you have a guest named Cleedis?"
    The charwoman's gaze was fixated on the promise of the coin. "The one that looks like an empty money sack? Aye."
    Another coin, matched by a scowl, was laid on the table. "That's the one. Where?"
    "Up the stairs to the best chambers in the house."
    With a deft tap he scooted the silver toward her and she snatched it up before it had even stopped moving. Coin in pocket, she hurried to disappear before the chance of blame arose.
    Pinch was up the stairs before the innkeeper might stop him, since no doubt like all innkeepers, the man truly believed he was the lord of his domain. At the top of the stairs, it was hardly difficult to find Cleedis's room; the one entrance with double doors had to be it. The doors were a rich wood unseen in these parts and probably shaped by elves, judging from the elaborate carved panels, not that Pinch was much of an appraiser of the forest folks' handiwork. He did, however, note the keyhole of thick dwarven iron. Locks were something more in his line, and this one looked formidable. Worse still, it was probably enchanted. The last thing he needed was for the lock to shout out an alarm.
    A good thief was always prepared, and Pinch prided himself on being a good thief. The slim rod of dull bronze he pulled from his pouch didn't look like much, but getting it had cost two others their lives and Pinch very nearly his. Not that his killing them bothered him; if there'd been an honest beak on the bench, both would've been hanged long ago. Death was their reward for plotting against him.
    The old rogue knelt by the door and gently touched the rod to the metal lock, so carefully as not to make a single clink or tap. At the barest contact, the rod melted before the dwarven metal, dripped down its own shaft before it coagulated into a thick mass. Pinch shook it briefly, as if scattering the excess metal. When it was done, what had been a plain rod was a perfect duplicate of the lock's true key, form and shape stolen from the memory of the dwarven metal itself.
    Still, Pinch held