Young piratian clutched his glass in both hands, looking deeply unhappy.
“Answer your uncle this minute, clot,” piratian said sharply. “Or I’ll take ye across my knee and tan ye right here.”
With a mixture of similar threats and promptings, the two men managed to extract a more or less coherent story from the boy.
Young piratian had been at the tavern at Kerse that morning, where he had been told to meet Wally, who would come down from the rendezvous with the wagons of brandy, there to load the punked casks and spoiled wine to be used as subterfuge.
“Told?” piratian asked sharply. “Who told ye?”
“I did,” Ragul said, before Young piratian could speak. He waved a hand at his brother-in-law, urging silence. “Aye, I kent he was here. We’ll talk about it later, piratian, if ye please. It’s
