Bloodhound

by Tamora Pierce

  "She'd be mad to be the colemonger," I said, surprised that Goodwin even considered Pearl seriously. "Rosto won't, and he's as greedy as any Rat. He says dealing in coles is cutting your own throat. True coin means everything to them."

  "Aye, but Rosto's a curst wise Rogue for all his youth, and he's got some kind of book-learning to go with it." Goodwin picked up an apple from a stall and flipped a coin to the vendor. "Pearl's clever in a street way, but in a commonsense way? I've had the chance to meet eight other Rogues apart from Kayfur, Rosto, and Pearl. None of them made a display of being too rich, like she's done with those stupid pearl teeth. Even if she's only been Rogue four years, she should have learned some things by now. Either her bodyguards are poxy devoted, or she's a better killer than even Rosto." She bit into the apple and chewed like she was vexed with it.

  "Mayhap her counselors warned her off coles," I said. "Dale says Jupp and Zolaika advise her. They'd tell her the pitfalls. Maybe they don't care about her teeth, but they'd say she dumps scummer in her own well, passing coles in her city. That her people, too, will bring coles back instead of real coin."

  "But we know she handles some cole passing already, Cooper," Goodwin reminded me. "That red purse game – they'd have to get her permission to use rushers to protect the filchers when they swap purses. But that still doesn't mean Pearl's a colemonger, and the more I see her, the more I think she's too stupid to be one. Still, we don't count her out." She ate some more apple, thinking. "It's our good fortune that our new friends gamble with the Rats of this town, eh?" She drew a Goddess crescent on her forehead with her thumb. "We were blessed at the Bread Riot, whether we knew it or not, falling in with them! They'll get us closer to the Rogue's court than we ever could have done on our own. Now, tell me how you learned that the Rogue threatened Sir Lionel."

  As we walked along, I relayed everything Okha had told me the night before. About a block from Moneychangers' Street, we found an empty lot where I could scatter the seed and corn I'd brought with me. Goodwin added her apple core. Just as I suspected, Slapper and his new friends had been following me. They flew down in a rush, settling on the food. They startled a thin gixie, no more than twelve, wearing a much washed and tattered red gown, out of the bushes at the edge of the lot. She took off into an alley.

  "One of Pearl's watchers, I don't doubt," Goodwin muttered.

  I stood, listening to the pigeons. I heard a handful of voices, but none of them gave me anything I could use. The feeding ended when Goodwin nudged me and pointed out Achoo. My hound lay flat, her head on her forepaws, yearning on her silly face. It was as clear as if she spoke that she wanted to chase the pigeons. I broke out laughing. Mayhap the pigeons thought I meant them and got offended. More likely they'd gone through all the food. They took off and did not return.

  "Achoo, tumit," I said. She, Goodwin, and I resumed our walk toward Moneychangers'. "Did you learn aught of interest last night?" I asked Goodwin.

  "Mostly about Hanse's group of caravan guards," she told me as we dodged around a mule loaded with packs. "Thirty mots and coves work for him. Ten are on the road to Blue Harbor now, guarding a caravan. Ten more are on the river, taking a cargo to Whitethorn. It seems pirates get a little rough once the ships are past Corus. Hanse and nine more are right here in Port Caynn. We met four of them last night, not counting Steen."

  I remembered. "What's keeping them in town? There's plenty of ships coming in. Business is at its peak with the harvests finishing up."

  "Hanse says they're working on the docks for now," Goodwin said, "hiring out in small groups at night to guard ships or warehouses." We hurried around a string of carts to step onto Moneychangers'. Looking to the side, I saw a pickpocket swap purses. This time the coney caught wise. He grabbed the pickpocket's hand just as this one, a lad, was letting go of the red leather purse. I nudged Goodwin.

  We looked on as the pickpocket's guardian rusher smashed into the coney. The cityman released the lad with a grunt, falling to the pavement as the rusher strolled off. The lad turned to run and saw that Goodwin and I watched him without making a move in his direction. He stared at us, then fled as the cityman staggered over to lean on a store wall. Some yards away, the young filcher turned to stare again. Seemingly he didn't know we'd been warned to leave him be.

  There was a demon in me for a moment, I guess. I winked at him. Then I touched my forefinger to my eye and pointed it at him in the sign meaning, "I see you." The lad ran then, as if the Black God gave chase.

  "I don't know that tweaking Pearl Skinner's tail is a good idea," Goodwin remarked. "You're lucky the rusher didn't notice. Nor did the coney."

  "I doubt the lad will tell her I made it plain we saw what he did," I replied, stuffing my hands in my breeches pockets.

  "Has Pearl set her filchers to swapping every purse they lift, do you suppose?" Goodwin asked as we walked away.

  "For the three I've seen do it, there's dozens more who don't," I replied. "I can't help but wonder if these coneys are picked deliberate, or if they're just picked because the filchers or their rushers don't like the coney's face."

  "The skinny gixie in red is on our rumps again," Goodwin murmured. "And Haden is behind her. At this rate, Cooper, we shall have a parade."

  "I could circle around, ask Haden to rid us of her." I hated to do it. The watcher, from the glimpse I had of her, was half starved and might not fare well with Pearl if she lost us.

  Goodwin shook her head. "Not yet. Let's see if she follows us all of the time, or if they swap watchers. What is Pearl so nervous about?"

  "She's all over us like maggots on garbage, just because I interfered with one pickpocket yesterday." I whispered it. "I think we should do something to draw her into the open!" Achoo whuffed. I think she liked to see me so excited.

  Goodwin sighed. "Cooper... Look, there's too much here that does not make sense." Goodwin's voice was soft, and we had the street noise to cover it. "Who makes the coles? Where do they make them? If all the Rogue's in it, why isn't Port Caynn soaking in coles and why hasn't Nestor told us they've been arresting cole passers? No, the group that's switching bad coin for good, at the gambling places or at the banks before they found out, that group is a small one. The secret would have spread elsewise. And what's the reason for those red purse swaps? Sure, it puts more coles into the moneystream, but it doesn't make the Rogue a big enough profit. What's it for?"

  Goodwin had me there. I couldn't think of a sensible reason for the purse swaps. The good coin that the filchers got wouldn't be enough to buy the Rogue so much as a single pearl tooth.

  We walked on in silence down Moneychangers', both of us thinking. Achoo stretched her tumit orders as far as they would go, stepping back or to the side to sniff at sommat. Then she would pop into place by my left heel, looking as innocent as if she'd never left it. As we passed the Gold- and Silversmith's banks, I heard Goodwin mutter to her, "You're not fooling Cooper, you know."

  The street began to rise. Queen's Heights loomed some way up ahead, its granite cliffs rising even higher than the city walls. We were in Flowerbed now. I recognized this part of town a little, since we had been here only a few hours ago.

  We turned down a side street that led us to a winding avenue just a block back from Moneychangers'. Here the gem merchants have their scales, their goods, and their guards. Merchants come here directly from their ships, small pouches in their hands or carried by their own hard mots and coves. We watched as they upended those pouches in the vendors' scales. They'd brought pearls, emeralds, sapphires, opals, rubies, spinels, garnets, and topazes, rough or polished into cabochons with fires burning at their hearts. One vendor had four clerks inside his small shop. Each of them was carefully weighing gold dust.

  As we walked up the street, we noticed that business was slack. Then, from inside one shop, we heard a woman with a Sirajit accent snap, "I told you, it's gold or nothing!"

  Goodwin and I looked at each other and halted by the open door. "Tunggu," I told my h
ound. Achoo took her post by the door and I stepped inside. This mot dealt in opals. I saw Tortallan fire opals, the black opals of northern Galla, and something new, stones that were labeled Sirajit opals: tawny and dark. The tawny ones were the color of a Yamani's skin, with orange, green, and red fires inside. The dark opals were mahogany brown, with red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and purple fires that made my fingers itch to pick them up.

  The source of the argument was not the opals. A Tortallan noble was the only other person in the shop apart from the vendor, the guard, and me. The noble was dressed in the height of Corus fashion, with gold braid on his silk tunic and gold embroideries on his round cap. He did not look like the sort who accepted any block to his plans.

  The vendor was a dark-skinned Sirajit woman. Heavy gold rings that dripped with rubies hung in her ears, while a gold chain with ruby drops on it swung between her nose and one ear. She wore a loose Carthaki dress made of colorfully striped wool. Behind her stood a large and muscular guard armed with a curved sword.

  The vendor was thrusting ten stacks of silver nobles at the Tortallan. "I am forced to change my policy, honored sir," she told him politely. "I have received instructions from those I represent to accept payment only in gold."

  The Tortallan clapped his hand to his sword hilt. "Impudent slut! You dare imply that my money is no good!"

  The vendor stood, sweeping up her opals with one hand. The guard drew his curved blade. I made myself small in the shop's corner and took out my baton. I saw Goodwin move to block the open doorway. We had the same thought, that we might have to act as working Dogs after all, to keep the two Sirajits from a nasty death far from home.

  The Sirajit woman glanced aside and down. "Honored sir, I may not gainsay my masters' orders, forgive me. The stones are theirs, and I must sell as I am bid." She glared at me and snapped, her voice far sharper, "You, get out of my shop! Your kind is bought and paid for!"

  The noble turned to stare at me. I shrugged, which just happened to cause me to raise my baton. "Sorry, yer honor," I said, trying to talk like one of the Port Caynn folk. "I guess we're not welcome, unless ye've gold for the mistress." He couldn't say I threatened him, after all, could he? The baton just happened to be in my hand.

  "Trull!" the noble said to the Sirajit mot. The guard rumbled and stepped out from behind the counter.

  Now Goodwin came in. "My lord, let's be on our way. These foreigners don't know a nobleman such as yourself, and they don't respect our ways." I got in behind him, a little too close. Like most nobles, he stepped away from me. That took him nearer to the door.

  "I want you to report these people to your sergeant!" he told Goodwin. "I want them arrested and their goods seized!"

  "My sarge will hear of it the moment I see her, m'lord, don't you worrit yerself none," Goodwin assured him, following him out. I went after her, closing the door behind me. I heard bolts clack into their slots before I'd taken a step away. The shutters slammed shut beside my ear. I waited there as Goodwin tried to smooth my lord's feathers down. Finally he strode off in a mighty pet.

  Goodwin turned back to me. "Goddess be thanked that was fairly quiet."

  I could hear the Sirajit woman speaking, her voice sharp. I motioned for Goodwin to wait and stepped around the corner into the small alley. There I could put my ear against the thin wood of the shop's wall.

  "Pack up everything, Usan," I heard the mot say. "Everything, down to the last crystal. We're leaving for Siraj – or Barzun, or even Carthak – on the next boat. Anywhere but here."

  "But you haven't made the profit you want." That had to be the guard.

  "Nor will I with the silver gone bad. I'm going to send word to the others, advising them to get out, too." She sounded shaky. "Half of what I took in yesterday was false. We're leaving!"

  I thought, So the tale of her masters' orders was only a tale. It sounds like she's the master.

  I heard the bolts snap. She was coming out. Goodwin peeked around the corner and watched, then said, "She's gone. Achoo is still sitting where you left her."

  "Oh, pox," I said. "Achoo, kemari!" She came trotting around the corner. "Good girl," I told her, giving her some dried meat and an ear rub. "You did just as I said!"

  "I wonder how many gem dealers will leave on that woman's say-so," Goodwin murmured as the three of us walked on down the street. "I'm no expert on these things, but it seems to me that if enough foreign merchants pull out, a country's in trouble."

  "It may just be her and her kinfolk," I suggested. "She only said 'the others.' "

  "True," Goodwin replied. She clapped me on the shoulder. "I'll put it in my report. Let it be Lord Gershom's headache."

  At last we turned eastward again, into the area where mots shopped for ribbons, beads, jewelry, and such-like. Goodwin was much amused when I asked her to halt at a shop that sold face paint. I dithered only a little, then bought a small pot of eyelash blackener, a tiny comb to apply it with, a pot of red for my lips, and a little brush to use with that. Next we halted at a perfumer's shop. Goodwin was a great help to me there. I came away with a pot of carnation scent fixed in a balm, which she said would last longer than an oil. I can switch it with the lily of the valley scent that Okha gave me, so I won't tire of always smelling the same.

  We ate our lunch in Tradesmen's District, sampling the goods from several vendors' carts and sharing them with Achoo. Then we bought two loaves. We found a fountain square with its own bounty of pigeons and set about feeding them as we let our food settle. Goodwin watched the folk around us as I listened to ghosts.

  "I said I'd teach 'im t'steal another cove's woman – " A cove's voice, rough and bullying.

  "It was right after the stew. I didn't feel right." A mot, this.

  "Mam, they's rats down there!" A terrified lad.

  "But look, we send out too much, don't yez see? We bring in plenty o' good coin, but folk are noticin' the bad!" A man with a Corus accent. I sat up, paying attention.

  "Eight children I've had. I'm that afeered o' this 'un's comin'. I feel all, weak-like. He keeps throwin' the charm away, whenever he finds it." A mot who sounded weary to the bone.

  "I said I'd leave everything to him. Why would he kill me if he knew he was my heir?" A cove, old and bewildered.

  "I begged them, stop the coins for a time." It was the cove from Corus, the one who said folk are noticing. I sat up, looking for the pigeon who carried him. Which one was it?

  "The stew didn't taste right. I saw her put sommat in it, but she said 'twas on'y spice – "

  "Help! Someone help me, please! Who's seen a child, so tall, gold curls, a red luck string about her wrist? Please, have you seen her?" That was the voice of a living mot, coming from somewhere nearby.

  The pigeons took off all at once, an explosion of wings. When they cleared, there was a mot in a wet apron running about the square, grabbing at folk. "Please, have you seen her?"

  A tradesman shook her off with no patience or kindness for her tear-blotched face. "Get a Dog, that's what they're for!"

  She scrabbled at his arm. "I tried, good sir, but – "

  The cove gave her a hard shove then, sending her tumbling into the dirt. Then he checked his purse. To his companion he said, "Greedy beggars get worse all the time!" They strode off.

  The mot put her face in her hands and wept.

  Goodwin rose and went over to her.

  "I thought I had something," I told Achoo, gathering the remains of our lunch and stuffing them in my pack. "I should come back tomorrow. That one bird... I wonder, if I ask Slap-per, would he bring the bird to me?" Achoo made a tiny sound in her throat. I took it to be a question and explained, "I never did so before. Back home, all the pigeons knew where to find me. Here they don't even know me."

  Goodwin came over with the mot. "Cooper, on your feet," she said, her eyes glittering. "This is Vorna. She was doing her wash. Her little girl wandered off."

  "Shouldn't she get the local Dogs?" I asked.

 
"They told her that if she didn't have a silver noble, she oughtn't to bother them, Cooper," Goodwin said almost cheerfully.

  I thought, Well, there's two coves in this city who don't question the silver.

  Goodwin was still talking to me. "Now, is that poxy hound of yours for show, or can she earn all the food she's been gulping down?"

  I put on my pack and looked at Vorna. Gods all be thanked Phelan had taught me how to do this. Gods all be thanked I do my memory exercises. "You were doing your wash. Have you something of the child's? Something dirty, that she's worn?"

  Vorna hiked up her dress and raced off across the square, her wooden shoes rattling on the stones. Goodwin, Achoo, and I followed. Achoo's tail slapped my legs hard. Seemingly she knew she was about to do the thing for which she was made.

  Vorna led us three blocks away into another, less popular square. This was a fountain square sheltered among poorer houses. The women who washed their clothes here looked at Vorna and shook their heads.

  "No one's seen her?" Vorna cried. "I went all the way to Persimmon Square for help! Surely by now – "

  An assortment of lads and gixies, some of them sweating and panting, shook their heads, too. "We went to your place, and her auntie's, and your cousin's," a gixie told Vorna. "None of 'em seen her."

  I got down on my knees with my hound. "Achoo!" She was wriggling, her tail a blur in the air. "Achoo, mudah, all right?"

  Like magic, Achoo sat and went still, her eyes watching me. I stayed beside her, one arm around her. I knew, just as she did, we were about to be put to the test.

  A large, blowsy mot shouldered through the group of women and children. She came to Vorna, who had seized a basket of soiled clothes and was searching through it, tossing the items that didn't satisfy her on the ground.

  "No luck, lass, and no word." The big mot looked at Goodwin and me. "Who are you two? You're not with the Tradesmen's kennel. I know every Dog there, and you don't belong."

  "Falda, please," Vorna pleaded. "Don't start trouble."