A theory formed itself in my head.
Now theories are tricky beasts and can land a fellow in all kinds of trouble if he’s not careful.
Still, the probability of this particular theory being valid struck me as quite high. I wouldn’t pitch it any stronger than that.
Among the flim-flammery of gaudy silks and sashes brought along from the flutsman’s kit I drew out a scarf of green and blue eye-watering silkiness, with silver edgings. None of this stuff was being worn, for obvious reasons. I wanted these people to take me for a simple paktun and not a reiving flutsman.
The silver came away as the point of my dagger probed it free. I twisted up some of the strands into a special spiral arrangement, one I knew and loathed. Together with the snip of feather I’d taken f……
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