And so the other shoe dropped. Sharpe cleared his throat. He didn't have much, but it wasn't the done thing to announce such a limitation to the lad. And what little he did own didn't quite match the price, did it? A whole Imperial eagle for a little girl's sword and the additional task of having his own blade sharpened? Too much gold.

The latter request was non-negotiable. It was a superstitious tradition of his dating back to when he'd first received the heavy cavalry sabre. Indeed, he'd often go only to cavalry regiments to find their sharpeners. And he would pay as handsomely as he could to have it done. Oh, in a pinch he'd work it over himself; he'd been doing so for each of his missions so far. But now he wanted a proper edge on it.

Sharpe cleared his throat. "Back home, I'd pay in silver buttons. If I had to. Things don't quite work that way here, do they?" He had his spyglass in his pocket, but he wanted to save that bargaining chip for the very last effort.