Subtle changes in the beggar’s posture made the stranger feel more at ease. He consulted the small book again.

“I wish to be directed to an hotel, tavern, lodging house, inn, hospice, caravanserai,” he said.

“What, all of them?” said Hugh, taken aback.

“?” said the stranger.

Hugh was aware that a small crowd of fishwives, shellfish diggers and freelance gawpers were watching them with interest.

“Look,” he said, “I know a good tavern, is that enough?” He shuddered to think of the gold coin escaping from his life. He’d keep that one, even if Ymor confiscated all the rest. And the big chest that comprised most of the newcomer’s luggage looked to be full of gold, Hugh decided. The four-eyed man looked at his book.

“I would like to be directed to an hotel, place of repose, tavern, a—”

“Yes, all right. Come on then,” said Hugh hurriedly. He picked up one of the bundles and walked away quickly. The stranger, after a moment’s hesitation, strolled after him.

A train of thought shunted its way through Hugh’s mind. Getting the newcomer to the Broken Drum so easily was a stroke of luck, no doubt of it, and Ymor would probably reward him. But for all his new acquaintance’s mildness there was something about him that made Hugh uneasy, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. Not the two extra eyes, odd though they were. There was something else. He glanced back. The little man was ambling along in the middle of the street, looking around him with an expression of keen interest.

Something else Hugh saw nearly made him gibber.

The massive wooden chest, which he had last seen resting solidly on the quayside, was following on its master’s heels with a gentle rocking gait. Slowly, in case a sudden movement on his part might break his fragile control over his own legs, Hugh bent slightly so that he could see under the chest.