2

A corpse was no uncommon sight in the Maze. But one sprawled in the middle ofthe Serpentine, in the first light of the sun - the potboy of the Unicorn foundthe blond male corpse when he came out to heave the slops, a corpse on the inn'svery doorstep, a body quite stiff and cold, and he knew Sjekso Kinzan. He spunon his heel and started to run back in - thought again and darted, back tosearch for valuables ... after all, some less acquainted and deserving personmight come along. He found the brass luckpiece, found the purse ... empty,except for an old nail and a bit of lint - dropped the luckpiece down his owncollar, jumped up and ran inside in breathless haste, to spill his news to themorning's first stirrers-forth in the tavern; and the fact of one of theUnicorn's regular patrons lying stiff at the door brought a stamping up and downthe stair and a general outpouring of curious and half-awake ovemighters.

That was how it came to Hanse, a disturbance under Minsy Zithyk's rented windownext door.

The gathering around the body in the street was solemn ... partly a kind ofrespect and partly morning headaches, more and more onlookers arriving as thecommotion became its own reason for being. Hanse was one of the first, stoodwith his arms clenched into a tight fold - he had his daggers: had them abouthis person natural as breathing. His scowl and awakened-owl stare at the corpseof Sjekso Kinzan, his arms about his ribs holding his spine stiff- warned MinsyZithyk off. She stood snuffling and holding her own ribs, doubtless with theother half of a throbbing headache. Hanse wanted no hanging-on, now, of Sjekso'slongtime woman. The dice game and the wager stuck in his mind and he felt eyeson him, himself part of the morning's gossip, with a man he had diced with lyingcold in the soiled stream of a drain.

'Who got him?' Hanse asked finally, and there was a general shrugging ofshoulders. 'Who?' Hanse snapped, looking round at the onlookers. A corpse wasindeed no novelty in the Maze, but an otherwise young and healthy one, with nomark of violence on it... but a man on the doorstep of the tavern he frequented,a turn or two of the alleys to his own lodgings ...

There were amenities like territory. A man was never assured ... but there wereplaces and places, and when he was in his own place, he was least likely to endup among the morning's debris. There were stirrings among the crowd, discomfort- with Hanse, for one, whose smallish size meant a temper backed with knives, abad reputation for every kind of mischief.

And his sullen, headachy stare passed right round to a stranger in the territory- to one Mradhon Vis; to a new and frequent patron at the Unicorn. 'You,' Hansesaid. 'You left about the same time last night. You see anything?'

A shrug. A useless question. No one in the Maze saw anything. But Vis looked toothin-lipped about the shrug and Hanse looked back with a blacker stare stillhad sudden awareness of the silence of the crowd when he spoke, of eyes on him;and he unfolded his arms and thought of how they had jostled in a doorway lastnight, Sjekso and Mradhon Vis, and Sjekso had laughed and acted his usualflippant self at Vis's expense. Hanse drew quiet conclusions - quiet because hecut a mean figure at the moment, having got off with a dead man's last cash andlast pleasure ... he swept a glance about at faces dour with their own privateconclusions. No love lost on him or dead Sjekso; but Sjekso being local and deadwas the focus of pity, while regarding himself- there was quite another thing inthe air.

Vis started to leave, edging away through the crowd. "That's the one to lookat,' Hanse said. 'Hey, you! You don't like the questions, do you? The garrisonthrew you out, hey? You come back here, whoreson coward, you don't turn yourback on me.'

'He's crazy,' Vis said, stopped behind an unwilling screen of onlookers who weretrying to melt in all directions, but Mradhon kept with the migrating cover.'Figure who got his money and his woman,, you figure that and wonder who did forhim, that's who...'

Hanse went for the knives. 'Wasn't no mark on him,' a youngish voice wasshrilling. The crowd was swinging wildly out of the interval Vis was busypreserving. Minsy yelled, and several strong and larger arms wound themselvesinto Hanse's elbows and about his middle. He heaved and kicked to no use whileMradhon Vis, in the clear, straightened his person and his clothing.

'Crazy,' Vis said again, and Hanse poured invective on him and most especiallyon those holding him from his knives - cold, sweating afraid, because Vis mightdo anything, or the crowd might, and the knives were all he had. But Vis walkedoff then, at an increasing pace, and Hanse launched another kick and a torrentof abuse on those holding him.

'Easy.' The grip on his left was Cappen Varra's, an arm tucked elbow to elbowinto his arm and a hand locked on his wrist; he had no grudge with the minstrel.It was a calm voice, a cultivated, better-than-thou voice: Hanse hated Varra atthe moment, but the grip persuaded and the object of his rage was off down thestreet. He took his weight on his own feet and slowly, brushing off his clotheswhile he stood fairly shaking with his anger, Varra eased up and let him go.Igan on the other side, big, not very bright Igan, let go his other arm, andclaps on his shoulders and sympathy offered ... started to settle his stomachand persuade him he had some credit here. 'Let's have a drink,' Varra said. 'Thecorpse-takers will get the rumour - do you want to be standing here conspicuous?Come on inside.'

He went as far as the door of the Unicorn, looked back, and there was Minsystanding over Sjekso, sniffling; and Sjekso lying there a great deal sadder,open-eyed, while the crowd started away under the same logic.

Hanse wanted the drink.

*

Mradhon Vis turned the comer, none following, stopped against an alley wall andlet the tremors pass from his limbs. Ugly, that back there. Corpses, he had seen- had created his share, in and out of mercenary service. He had no wish to takeon useless trouble ... not now, not with gold in his boot and a real prospect ofmore. A bodyguard sometimes, but he was not big enough for hired muscle; andwith a surly and foreign look - even guard jobs were hard come by. He meant tobe on time for this one. A patron who could come up with a fistful of gold on awhim was one to cultivate - if only her throat was still uncut. And that thoughtworried him: that was what had drawn him, against his natural and waryinstincts, to that noisy scene outside the Vulgar Unicorn - a body he had lastseen alive and escorting the patron who was his latest and most fervent hope.He was more than concerned.

Other alarums sounded in his mind, warnings of greater complexity, but herefused them, because they led to suspicions of traps, and connivances; he had aknife in his belt, his wits about him, and no little experience of employers ofall sorts, no few of whom had had notions of refusing him his pay at the end ...one way and the other.

3

The Vulgar Unicorn still thumped with comings and goings, an untidy lot ofearly-moming patrons and irregulars. For his own part Hanse drank down his aleand nursed his head back to size, across the table from Cappen. He had noinclination to talk or to be the centre of anything at the moment.

'They've got him off,' the potboy said from the door. So the corpse was gone.That cleared out some of the traffic. Inquiry and snoopery might be close behindthe corpsetakers. 'Excuse me,' Cappen Varra said, likewise discreet, and lefthis place at the table, bound for the door. Hanse recovered his equilibrium andstood up from the bench amid the general flow of bodies outward.