Yowler Foul-Up by David Lee Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

Grinswood?”
    “I have.”
    “You were not followed?”
    “What? Er … not exactly, no.”
    A male voice this time, solo. “What do you mean by ‘not exactly’? Either you were followed, or you were not.”
    Grab’s movements became very fidgety. “There was this bird, you see, and—”
    “A bird?”
    “Yeah, and I thought it was—”
    “As in ‘flap flap’ bird?”
    “Er … yes.”
    The female voice took up the questioning. “We have no interest in birds. When we asked if you were followed, we were talking beast, not bird.”
    Grab’s features creased like a brown paper bag. “No, I’m sure I wasn’t followed by any of them.”
    “Good. And you spoke of your endeavors to no one?”
    “Nope. Definitely not. No, siree. I’m not stupid, me. I spoke to no one. Well, no one worth speaking of …”
    “So, in fact, you did tell somebody.”
    “Um … sort of. Yeah.”
    There was a collective sigh. “More than one person?”
    “No. Just the one, I swear. Just Jimmy, ’e’s a friend of mine, ex-thief, understands perfectly, ’e won’t tell a soul.”
    “Hmm … we shall see. For now, you may go.”
    “’ey! What about my money?”
    “You will find it beside the decorative font on your way out.”
    Grab nodded and turned to leave, muttering to himself about conspiracies and the kind of people who lurked in shadows. He didn’t see a soul on his way out of the church, but, even as he collected his money, he felt they were watching him. In the shadows.
    As soon as Grab had left the sanctuary, two dark hoods were drawn back in unison.
    “Your thief talks too much,” said the female voice. “He’ll have to be silenced.”
    “And his friend?” echoed her male counterpart. “This Jimmy? A danger, you think?”
    “Undoubtedly.”
    “We can’t just leave it and hope. We’re too near!”
    “Exactly.”
    “Two jobs for Mixer, then?”
    “Ha! If our little gnome’s as good as you say he is, Lopsalm, I’m sure he’s dealing with it already. … ”
    “Oh, he is, my dear. I can assure you of that.”
    “He’ll need to be fast, mind; thieves like Grab can be wily and resourceful.”
    Lopsalm turned in the darkness.
    “A good job we dispatched Moors and Edwy, then, isn’t it?”

SIXTEEN
    G RAB HAD A TERRIBLE feeling in the pit of his stomach. Keeping a tight grip on the money pouch with his remaining hand, he began to run.
    Footsteps echoed behind him.
    On he ran, urging his tired body through the pain barrier.
    The footsteps increased with him, and he heard the distinctive sound of a crossbow being primed.
    Grab peered over his shoulder, caught the merest glimpse of a small figure as it slipped into a doorway, and then he started to run, very fast.
    The streets, slippery and lashed with rain, were deserted; they seemed to flitter past as Grab hurtled around corners and leaped over bins in a frantic dash for the safety of the market square. He knew the stalls would be long gone, but there were always people in the square. There had to be.
    Incredibly, the rainstorm picked up. Grab thought he saw a shape up ahead; large, almost impossibly so. Was it a troll or a person? Difficult to tell. Grab strained to see through the veil of rain. Yes, a person. Definitely. Thank the gods. Now, if he could just put on another burst of speed …
    The shape lumbered forward, and Grab almost fell into it.
    “Hey, watch it.”
    “I’m sorry,” Grab managed, righting himself and standing back to stare in awe at the size of the human mass before him. “There’s someone after me. … ”
    “I can’t see anybody.”
    Grab swung around and squinted into the rain. “No, well. I could swear I was being followed.” He turned back. “Anyway, it’s a nice nigh—”
    The lumbering shape threw out a fist so hard that Grab almost achieved flight as he fell backward, landing in the middle of a collection of rubbish bins with a resounding crash.
    The rain hammered down. As Grab fought to get to his feet, he