Scholar by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

avoid the patrollers.
    A block later, the two patrollers slowed as they neared a larger building with a painted signboard proclaiming it as the Sailrigger. The place was definitely a taproom, but one with dancers attired more than suggestively, if the painting on the signboard happened to be an indication, although there was an open courtyard in front, enclosed by a chest-high yellow brick wall, where some sort of food could be served. All the tables were empty.
    The patrollers walked through the untended open courtyard gate. Quaeryt followed so far as the gate, then stopped, holding his concealment and waiting.
    â€œSaerysa!” called the nasal-voiced patroller.
    No one appeared, although Quaeryt thought he saw one of the closed shutters on a window on the wall of the taproom adjoining the courtyard vibrate.
    â€œYou wouldn’t want to make the Patrol unhappy, would you, Saerysa?”
    After several moments, a woman appeared, wearing a thin cotton robe. She was dark-haired and small, but even with the loose robe, it was obvious she was well-formed, most likely one of the dancers. Quaeryt doubted that her duties were limited to dancing. She stopped a yard or so outside the door leading into the building, leaving it open behind her.
    â€œAren’t you going to come and greet me?” The nasal-voiced patroller stepped past several tables but stopped a good three yards short of the dancer. He eased the truncheon into his belt sheath.
    â€œYou’re here early. I just got up.” Her voice was low and husky.
    â€œFancy that. You need to come over and greet me. Just like you would when you want a sailor to spend his silvers on you.”
    â€œI’m not even really awake, Duultyn.”
    â€œYou really should come here.”
    Saerysa took two steps and halted just out of the patroller’s easy reach.
    â€œYou’re shy this morning.”
    â€œI told you I was tired.”
    Abruptly, the patroller moved and grabbed both her wrists, pulling them down and pressing her against him. The girl tried to knee him in the groin, but he turned his body and took the knee on his thigh, then shifted his grip and pinned both arms with one large hand, and ran the other hand across her body.
    â€œYou need to be more friendly, Saerysa.”
    The dancer slumped, as if surrendering, then tried to bite Duultyn’s shoulder.
    As the patroller pushed the dancer back and twisted away from her teeth, Quaeryt did his best to imitate the “caaw” of a raven, then imaged a sordid mass that he hoped resembled a large and soggy raven dropping less than a yard above the patroller. It dropped and spread across the patroller’s green shirt with a splatting sound.
    While a few bits of the “dropping” splattered on the dancer, Saerysa pulled back, then wrenched free of Duultyn’s grasp as the patroller gaped at the mess across the front of his uniform. She turned and ran through the door into the building.
    â€œShit!”
    â€œThat’s right.” The other patroller stifled a laugh, but did shake his head. “That raven really got you.”
    â€œRavens don’t do that!” snapped Duultyn.
    â€œI heard it, and you’ve seen it.”
    â€œI didn’t see any raven, and you can’t miss birds that big.”
    â€œHe didn’t miss you.”
    An older woman appeared with two large towels, one damp and one dry. “Sir … perhaps these would help.”
    Duultyn glared at her. “Where’s Saerysa?”
    â€œYou scared her. She ran off. She is no longer here.”
    â€œShe is, too.”
    The other patroller cleared his throat. “Duultyn…”
    â€œShit…” Duultyn looked at the older woman. “Tell your little dancer she has a big debt to pay. And she’d better.” He took the damp towel and began to sponge off his shirt.
    The older woman retreated into the Sailrigger, closing the door behind