Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves

by C. Greenwood

  For his part, he appeared not to hear them. I wondered what it was that made these people so wary of my companion when they didn’t hesitate to tug at my arm or attempt slipping their hands into my coat pockets. Then I remembered Fleet was not an uncommon visitor here. Perhaps he had proved himself less than patient with such attempts in the past.

  The wariness of the beggars notwithstanding, by the time we reached our destination, we led behind us a short, ragged procession. Fleet stopped before a shack of rotting timbers that was the sturdiest dwelling I had yet to see in this place and the first to boast a real door in front. At this point, Fleet whirled suddenly on his heel and drove the lingering beggars away with curses and threatening gestures, until they scattered back the way they had come. Then he turned back, straightened his coat, and rapped softly at the door, careful, I noted, lest it fall off its hinges.

  In a moment, he was rewarded by the door being cracked slowly open. The man who peered out at us was heavy set and greasy haired and wore an unwelcoming scowl as he thrust his round face out the door. Then, apparently recognizing Fleet, his face broke into an ugly smile.

  “Davin.” Fleet greeted him coolly.

  “Why, Fleet, my lad! I have not laid eyes on your ugly face nor heard mention of you in months. I was beginning to think the iron-heads had caught you at last and given you your just deserts at the end of a noose. But there’ve been no hangings in town recently. So I says to myself, ‘maybe Fleet thinks he’s too good to cross the threshold of his old partner again.’”

  Forgetting I’d yet to be introduced, I jumped into the conversation, demanding sharply, “You say there’ve been no hangings lately? You’re sure of that?”

  My mind had naturally flown to Terrac.

  The big man frowned at me. “Believe me, I know when there’s a hanging afoot. Always look to see if it’s one of my old friends dangling.”

  He turned his attention back to Fleet. “Who’s this young companion of yours with such interest in hangings?” he asked.

  Fleet waved a hand, as if to indicate I was no one of significance, a response I found vaguely insulting.

  “Just a friend,” he said. “But we didn’t come to chat over old times and past crimes. I have business for you.”

  The fat man’s eyes took on a greedy gleam.

  “I do not, however, have any intention of discussing it on the doorstep,” Fleet said. “Are you going to invite us into that hovel of yours or keep us standing out here with the vermin?”

  The fat man hesitated, flicking a suspicious glance at me.

  “She comes with me,” Fleet said firmly. “I trust her and that should be good enough for you.”

  The fat man shrugged before stepping back to hold the door wide.

  “Any friend of Fleet’s…” he said with unconvincing grace.

  Fleet shot me a quick glance I couldn’t read, but I thought there was some sort of warning in it. I suddenly realized how much he was trusting me with. The contacts and secrets of his trade. For a thief, that was no light thing and I hoped the look I retuned said I would honor his trust.

  I ducked my head under a low beam as I followed Fleet into the shadowy interior of the hovel and for the first time in my life found myself regretting my height. It was usually an advantage to be as tall as most men, but right now I was discovering a definite downside. The ceiling here was low and I had to keep my shoulders hunched and my head bowed, a burden neither Fleet nor the fat man had to bear.

  The first thing which came to my attention immediately after entering the fat man’s hut was the fetid stink in the air, a mingled scent of ale fumes and old urine with maybe a bit of rotting garbage thrown in for variety. I choked back my initial desire to return to the comparatively fresh air outside and tried to distract myself by examining my surroundings.

  The hut was lit by the glow of a flickering lantern that did little to banish the shadows or to reveal what lay beneath them. Scattered around was a collection of broken furniture and rubbish, crammed so closely into the tight space there was hardly room to turn around without stumbling into something. Large earthenware containers and bulging canvas sacks were stacked along the walls in heaps as high as I was tall. I suspected them of being filled with old clothes, cheap jewelry, and any other loot Davin could get his hands on. From what I could see of the goods, they were not the sort of thing our band back in Dimming would have bothered stealing. I privately wondered how much of the accumulated treasures Davin had filched from the unfortunates camped around his hut.

  Davin noticed my perusal of his home. “Admiring my collection, I see,” he said. “Doubtless you’re wondering what a man of my obvious success is doing living down here amongst the filth.”

  I couldn’t decide whether he was being ironic.

  He continued. “Well, I’ll share a secret with you, young woman. It is not my means which keeps me huddled below ground like a sewer rat. I chose this spot to lurk because it is the only place in Selbius where one can be entirely free of the eyes of the cursed city guard. Rotting iron-heads, always sniffing around up there; won’t give an honest thief a moment’s peace.”

  Fleet was nodding sympathetically.

  “Down here, below level,” Davin said, “it’s nice and quiet, and I can work in secret without the law keepers looking over my shoulder. But I am rattling on like a slack-jawed old woman. Come, come, sit and rest yourselves at my warm hearth and we’ll talk business.”

  There was, in fact, no hearth or if there was it was hidden behind piles of debris, but Davin led us to a slightly less crowded corner, picking his way through the jumbled rubbish with surprising agility for such a large man. He seated himself in a sagging chair, the only sturdy looking bit of furniture in the place. I was just as glad to remain on my feet. Fleet, seeming unperturbed by the squalor or perhaps merely accustomed to it, pulled up a wooden keg and sat down.

  “Now,” Davin began, “you say you came to discuss matters of the trade—” He interrupted himself suddenly to shout over his shoulder. “Heslan, I cannot discuss business on a dry throat!”

  He smacked a hand loudly on the arm of his chair. “Where are you woman? Bring us a drink!”

  I hadn’t noticed any other presence in the room, but at his call I became newly aware of a shadowy figure moving in a darkened corner. An emaciated woman, well past her better years, clambered sluggishly up from a filthy tangle of sleeping rugs on the floor to follow Davin’s bidding. Her long, greasy hair spilled untidily over bony shoulders, bared by a loose, low-cut blouse. She moved with an unsteadiness that suggested she’d been sampling from the bottle she brought to us. She also fetched us three chipped, dirty mugs before fading again into the shadows.

  “All right,” Davin said when she was gone. “I’m ready to discuss this proposition of yours, Fleet.”

  He poured both our mugs full, setting his aside. I noted how Fleet held his drink untouched until he saw the fat man himself take a swig from the bottle.

  “Don’t be so hasty, my friend,” Fleet said, leaning forward. “Before we discuss any new endeavor, I think it would be wise to settle any business remaining unfinished between us.”

  Davin looked innocent. “I don’t know what you mean. I can think of no unresolved matter.”

  Fleet smiled thinly. “Then allow me to refresh your memory,” he said. “There was a job six months ago on Merchant’s Row. As I remember it, I was cheated out of my cut and I mean to settle that oversight now.”

  “Do you?” Davin said, his expression confident. “Then let me give you a piece of advice, lad. You don’t want to do anything foolish. I shouldn’t have to remind you of some of the… not so pleasant people who count me friend.” He leaned forward and, though his voice never lost its friendly tone, his eyes were distinctly cold. “Don’t try to blackmail, badger, or otherwise coerce me into or out of anything, lad. Certain of my acquaintances might take exception.”

  Fleet’s expression didn’t alter, but I caught the sense of dread wa
shing over him. Whoever these friends of Davin’s were, they were evidently not anyone Fleet wanted to come up against. I sensed him struggling with something, possibly hardening his resolve.

  He said, “I think we’re both equally aware of the sorts of friendships you curry, Davin. I don’t doubt you could order me tortured or dismembered in any way you liked and it would be done by nightfall. But let’s ask ourselves what would be the benefit of doing away with an old friend when he has come all this way to bring you business he could easily have taken elsewhere?”

  The heavy man laughed suddenly, a deep throat-clearing noise that fell harshly on my ears. “I see, I see. You come to bargain,” he said. “Do you really think you’re sharp enough to concoct any scheme that would tempt me into parting with my money? After all these years you should know better.”

  I could see the mockery was getting to my companion. Fleet’s composure cracked enough for his hand to move, as if of its own accord, to his coat sleeve, where a faint bulge betrayed the presence of a knife. The move wasn’t lost on Davin, but the big man only laughed again.

  “You cannot think to threaten me?” he asked. “You must realize I don’t fear you one wit, but you persist in showing your teeth, like a fox cornered in a hunt.”

  Fleet flinched at the words, as if aware of a hidden meaning. “And am I being hunted?” he asked quietly.

  It seemed a strange question to me, but Davin’s face immediately sobered.

  “Not yet, boy. You’re lucky that I like you, despite many of your stupider actions, past and present. I haven’t set your name on any death list, and I won’t, so long as you don’t force the issue. But I’m warning you to forget this debt nonsense and be satisfied to keep your neck. What would you have done with your share anyway? You’d have drunk and gambled it all away inside a week’s time.”

  “What I do with my money is my own business,” Fleet said. “I thought the glitters I’ve brought today would interest you, but now I see further dealings between us would be a mistake. I cannot trust you with such a valuable opportunity.”

  Davin frowned. “Glittery goods, you say?”

  “The best. I’ve never wasted my time or yours with cheap baubles.”

  “Doubtless you’re exaggerating what you have, but just the same, you’ve stirred my interest. Would it be out of the way for me to ask to see these shinies?”

  “Naturally, I wouldn’t expect you to buy what you haven’t seen,” Fleet said, as he fumbled inside his coat and withdrew a knotted kerchief. When he untied the small bundle to display a glittering brooch and a pair of ear ornaments studded with blood-red gems, I felt my eyes bulge and saw Davin’s do the same.

  “No wonder the chase last night,” I muttered. Fleet shot me an annoyed look and I realized he was telling me to keep my mouth shut. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about the source of these jewels in front of Davin.

  The big man reached for the gems, a greedy gleam in his eye, as he asked, “How’d you have the good fortune to get your grubby hands on these?”

  Fleet snatched the jewels beyond his reach.

  “Sorry, trade secrets,” he said. “What you should be asking yourself is how you might persuade me to part with them. To start with, I’ll be wanting to settle that old debt we just discussed.”

  Davin waved a careless hand, his smile calculating. “That small coin? Of course, it’s yours. That’s if these jewels prove to be the real thing. But you cannot expect me to put a value on the stones before I’ve been allowed to examine them. How do I know they’re not cheap imitations? Any fool can polish a bit of red-rind and pass it off as heartsfire.”

  Fleet’s expression was cool. “The lady who possessed these was not the sort to have her jewel box graced by pieces of red-rind. All the same…”

  He considered the jewels briefly before tossing the brooch to the big man, who caught the ornament deftly between thick fingers and held it up to his eye. When Fleet had brought a lantern close, the two leaned over the brooch. Davin’s expression had grown serious and it was clear he was in his element. He pried the jewel loose from its backing and lightly scratched the back of the stone with a thin blade removed from his belt-pouch. Grunting to himself, he then held it up to the light, flipping it over.

  “It’s real enough,” he finally concluded.

  “Yes, of course it is. Didn’t I say as much?” Fleet demanded impatiently. “And something else I know is what stones like these are worth, so don’t think you’re getting the better of me on this deal. If you want them, I expect you to meet my price, or I can easily take them elsewhere.”

  Davin snorted. “Methinks you’ve an overblown opinion of yourself and your find, street thief. We both know you haven’t the contacts to unload these gems in a market where they won’t be recognized, and I don’t think you want to be caught with them in your hand either. You’re as eager to be rid of them as I am to purchase them, so I’ll give you exactly what I gave you last time and you’ll have the sense to take it.”

  The big man nodded at me. “Tell our friend here to think things over before he makes any hasty decisions.”

  I had no opportunity to respond, as Fleet climbed to his feet to glare down on the other man. “You’re a filthy snake, Davin,” he accused. “A sloppy eel with the brains of a—”

  “Now, now,” the heavy man interrupted. “I take it by the abuse you’re leveling that you’ve come to see the light of reason. You can leave off the litany and just thank me for taking the rocks off your hands.”

  “I want the money inside the week,” Fleet said sullenly.

  “Of course you do,” Davin agreed, gathering the other jewels from the kerchief. “Come now. Drink another round with me before you go and let’s put this nasty bargaining business behind us.”

  Fleet said, “You know, considering how you’re robbing me on this deal, the least you could do is seal our bargain with a gesture of good will. You might, say, throw in a pair of daggers for my friend here. She’s lost her old weapons, and we all know how unpleasant it feels to go without.”

  Davin shrugged, saying, “I’m sure I can find something lying around that will suffice.”

  Fleet tipped me a wink when the heavy man wasn’t looking and I realized he wasn’t displeased with the outcome of our visit but had probably planned all along for it to end as it did.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The old docks were nothing more than their name suggested, rickety structures outside the city walls, hiding beneath the shadow of the spanning bridges leading into Selbius. It was obvious at a glance the stone and timber structures hadn’t stood up well to the effects of time. What decades of lapping water had been unable to erode, sun, weather, and woodborers were not far from finishing. There were great gaping holes in the wooden planks and even the sturdier parts of the dock creaked so alarmingly beneath our feet, I half expected the timbers to give way at any moment and Fleet and I to be plunged into the green waters below. It was an unpleasant thought because I’d never had a chance to practice swimming in anything deeper than Dancing Creek.

  Fortunately, the grey chunks of granite undergirding the walk continued to do their task for a little longer, holding fast despite alarming creaks and groans. A cool breeze blew in off the water, thick with the mingled scents of fish and lakeweed, a combination that soured my stomach this early in the morning. I resisted the urge to cover my nose and focused on my surroundings. It was strangely peaceful here, despite the distant rumble of wagons rolling over the bridges above. The lake lapped gently against the dock’s pilings. Gulls clamored in the distance.

  I looked across the green expanse and realized for the first time how noisy and cloying the city streets were. The thought of abandoning these open spaces again to enter the stifling city walls at day’s end seemed unendurable, but I told myself I didn’t need to worry about that yet. I could handle only one problem at a time, and right now my concern lay with finding the priest. But looking around me, I couldn’t help thinking this appear
ed an unlikely place to accomplish that goal.

  To my left sprawled an array of decaying and abandoned warehouses that looked like they hadn’t seen use in decades. By contrast, a collection of small wooden huts erected at the other end of the wharf teemed with activity. Bits of brightly colored laundry fluttered in the open windows of the little dwellings and tendrils of smoke rose from holes in the thatched roofs. Dozens of men and women, river people I decided by their unique appearance, were mending nets, cleaning fish, and going about their daily routines. I saw a group of men near the water’s edge laboring over stacks of timber and coils of rope and decided they were constructing the sturdy rafts they were known for. River children played up and down the long piers, dodging beneath the feet of their elders, chasing one another dangerously across unsteady walkways.

  Our arrival attracted a good deal of attention. No one shouted or made any move against us, but it was obvious by the flat, hostile gazes directed our way that our presence was an unwelcome intrusion. I stared back at the strangers just as frankly. Their unfamiliar appearance and clothing was unsettling and vaguely threatening in its strangeness.

  The men, with the exception of the little ones, wore their heads shaved bald and kept their faces and chests equally bare. The only clothes they bothered with were loose fitting trousers made of the same fabric as the brightly colored sails of their rafts. But there was no impression of nakedness because their arms, torsos, and occasionally even their faces were so heavily patterned with various colors of ink that in many cases I could hardly see the man beneath the tattoos. Any natural skin visible gleamed a dark bronze from long years spent toiling under the sun.

  While I was engrossed in studying these people, Fleet had taken the initiative and was approaching one. This river man was a large fellow at the water’s edge who was wrestling with a coil of rope to draw in a line of floating logs from the distant shore. With his frustrated scowl and the tenseness of his muscled back, he didn’t have the look of a man I would have chosen to interrupt in the middle of his work. But Fleet had already greeted him. I hung back to see how things would play out, reasoning if the street thief got himself thrown into the lake, someone ought to be standing by to fish him out.