The object in the man's hand glimmered golden. He asked, almost incredulously:

“And no one saw you?”

Kjartan grinned; his sharp nose creased and his lips revealed slightly crooked teeth as he shook his head. He held out his palm, slyly:

“You won't find skills like mine anywhere else.”

The man dropped the object in a pouch, then slipped something in Kjartan's outstretched palm.

“Good, good,” he pet the boy's hair as if he were a puppy. "Now, if you ask me nicely... I got another job for you."

Kjartan leaned into his hand kittenishly, his lips stretching into his most winning smile:

“Yes, please. You know I'm a hard-worker...”

The man's hand rested heavily on the back of his neck. “Listen. There's a fellow in Viken. A man of means, a clever man. What I want to do is pay him a visit.”

“And you want me to...?” Kjartan fingers flicked as if snatching something.

“Nah, nah, not that... Of course, it don't hurt to look around while you're there – never know what you find that we might use later – you know the drill. But for now, don't touch anything they don't want you to touch.”

“They?”

The man was looking away and his free hand fidgeted, shaking the pouch up and down until he found his words to go on:

“You see, this man'll be having a feast with some friends with... special tastes... and he wants someone special to wait upon them. Not just the usual deal that gets done before you can count to twelve,” he chuckled, “but something closer to entertainment, if you will. They's the good sort of people, so they'll like it if you make them feel important. And you, Kjartan, you're going to show them that you are just what they need. Charm them like I know you can.”

But the boy hesitated. “What will they want? What do I have to do?”

“Hey,” the man petted the boy's hair again, but his fingers took a handful of the black locks, “you're supposed to be resourceful, ain't that what I pay you for? Want me to teach you your job now?”

“No, but...”

“What, you unsatisfied with our deals now? You're not really one-of-a-kind, you know. I can always get some pretty boy who ain't a smart-arse too, if you ain't up for it.”

Under the firmness of the grip, Kjartan shook his head. “No, of course not. I just... want to do it right.”

“That's my boy,” the man let go of the hair, tapping his cheek instead and pulling him closer by the shoulder. “Do it right, and I'll make you famous. Men'll come from far and wide looking for my special boy, and this'll be the start of a fruitful business for us. You wouldn't want to disappoint me. I can't look after you if you do. And I've always had, haven't I?” His hand pressed on his shoulder, pushing him down: “Now, how about you thank me properly?