so he aint dead. i'm thinkin' we might wish he were. He turns up back at the bridge town, just as I finish collectin' some coins from the local folk... Gyth being his 'pore ol' young widdow' an' all. Heh, well it were worth a try. Stupid Bawde made me give all the coins back once that Araenion showed his face again though. Gyth made a good widdow... she'm was proper cryin' and she'm very pretty when she does it too. I jus' goes all red and blotchy.
Now, he don't say where he's been or nothin ' this Araenion... and then this dark one turns up and Araenion's chatting away like they were old friends! Helm's hairy horn! I was thinkin' Gyth's Burnt Man was there fer a minute or two... but no... this one - and how many of 'em are there, I asks yer? - this one is just a rough lad, nasty, but he don' make yer flesh crawl. Lost an eye too - not much of a fighter then, iffen he gets a poke like that.
Well, I tells Gyth I aint happy, and she aint either . Fer all this Araenion lad's fancy words and 'm'lady' this an' that and his stories where yer cannot make out one word in twenty... he's up ter no good, I knows it. Disappearin', coming back with another dark one - seems ter me that he knows more than he'm tellin and I wager every freckle on my face, and the dimple on my arse, that the Burnt Man has his claws in him.
Now, I aint saying nothin about the burnt man. I aint saying nothin for or against him. But I'm a - watching you, weleas. I been straight with the burnt man, an i dont take kindly to being spyed on when I bin good. I take everything I gets back ter him fair and square. But next time I sees him, I'm tellin him, no more. I dursent like it, all them bones.
