“I said we were duly embarrassed. And so you see,” said Locke, “he already has a means to dispose of us when we’ve served his purpose. I’m sure he feels very confident of our loyalty for the time being.” “And yet you still wish to turn against him?”
“Be honest, Requin. If you were Stragos, would you give us the antidote and send us on our merry way? We’re already dead to him. So now I have the burden of two revenges to carry out before I die. Even if I do succumb to Stragos’s damn cider, I want my last moment with Jerome. And I want the Archon to suffer. You are still the best means I have to either end.”
“A reasonable presumption,” purred Requin, growing slightly warmer in his manner.
“I’m glad you think so, because apparently I know less about the politics of this city than I thought I did. What’s the hell is going on, Requin?”
“The Archon and the Priori are gnashing their teeth at one another again. Now, half the Priori store large portions of their personal fortunes in my vault, making it impossible for the Archon’s spies to know the true extent of their resources. Emptying my vault would not only strip them of funds, but put me in their bad graces. Right now, Stragos could never put me out of business without major provocation, for fear of initiating a civil war. But sponsoring an apparent third party to hit my vault… oh yes, that” d do the trick nicely. I’d be busy hunting you and Jerome, the Priori would be busy trying to have me drawn and quartered, and then Stragos could simply…”
Requin illustrated what the Archon could do by placing a balled fist inside an open palm and squeezing hard.
“I was under the impression,” said Locke, “that the Archon was subordinate to the Priori councils.”
“Technically, he is. The Priori have a lovely piece of parchment that says so. Stragos has an army and a navy that afford him a dissenting opinion.” “Great. So now what do we do?”
“Good question. No more suggestions from you, no more schemes, no more card tricks, Master Kosta?”
Locke decided it was a good time to make Leocanto Kosta a bit more human. “Look,” he said, “when my employer was just an anonymous someone who sent a bag of coins every month, I knew exactly what I was doing. But now something else is happening, knives are coming out, and you can see all the angles that I don’t. So tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Hmmmm. Stragos. Did he ask about the conversation you and I had?”
“He didn’t even mention it. I don’t think he knew about it. I think Jerome and I were scheduled to be picked up and brought in that night regardless.” “You’re sure?” “I’m as sure as I can be.”
“Tell me something, Leocanto. If Stragos had revealed himself to you before you” d had a chance to perform your card tricks for me… if you” d known it was him you were betraying, would you still have done it?”
“Well…” Locke pretended to consider the question. “I can’t say what I might think if I actually liked him, or trusted him. Maybe I’d just give Jerome a knife in the back and work for him if I did. But… We’re rats to Stragos, aren’t we? We’re fucking insects. Stragos is one presumptuous son of a bitch. He thinks he knows Jerome and me. I just… don’t like him, not a bit, even without the poison to consider.”
“He must have spoken to you at length, to inspire such distaste,” said Requin with a smile. “So be it. If you want to buy your way into my organization, there will be a price. That price is Stragos.” “Oh, gods. What the hell does that mean?”
“When Stragos is either verifiably dead or in my custody, you may have what you ask. A place at the Sinspire assisting with my games. A salary. All the assistance I can offer you with his poison. And Jerome de Ferra crying under your knife. Is that agreeable?” “How am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t expect you to do it all yourself. But Maxilan has clearly ruled long enough. Assist me in enabling his retirement by any means you can, or any means I order. Then I suppose I’ll have a new floor boss.”
“Best thing I” ve heard in a long while. And the, ah, money in my account, locked away by your command?”
“Will remain locked away, lost by your own actions. I am not a man of charity, Leocanto. Remember that, if you would serve me.”
“Of course. Of course. But now indulge me, please, in a question of my own. Why aren’t you worried that I might be double-timing you for Stragos? That I might run back and tell him all this?”
“Why do you presume that Ym not playing you falsely on that very presumption?” Requin smiled broadly, in genuine amusement.
“All these possibilities make my head hurt,” said Locke. “I prefer card-sharping to intrigue. If you’re not on the up-and-up, logically I might as well go home and hang myself tonight.”
“Yes. But I’ll give you a better answer. What could you possibly tell Stragos? That I dislike him, bank for his enemies and wish him dead? So he’d have confirmation of my hostility? No point. He knows I’m hostile. He knows the underworld of Tal Verrar is an impediment to him if he wants to assert his power. My felantozzi prefer the rule of the guilds to the possibility of rule by uniforms and spears; there’s less money in dictatorship by arms.”
Felantozzi was a Throne Therin term for foot soldiers; Locke had heard it used to refer to criminals a few times before, but he’d never heard them using it among themselves.
“All that remains,” said Requin, “is for your other judge to concur that you are still a risk worth taking.” “Other judge?”
Requin gestured toward Selendri. “You” ve heard everything, my dear. Do we put Leocanto out of the window, or do we send him back down to where you fetched him from?”
Locke met her gaze, folded his arms and smiled in what he hoped was his most agreeable harmless-puppy fashion. She scowled inscrutably for a few moments, then sighed.
“There’s so much to distrust here. But if there’s a chance to place a turncoat relatively close to the Archon… I suppose it costs us little enough. We may as well take it.”
“There, Master Kosta.” Requin stepped over and placed a hand on Locke’s shoulder. “How” s that for a ringing endorsement of your character?”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Locke tried not to let too much of his genuine relief show.
“Then for the time being, your task will be to keep the Archon happy. And, presumably, feeding you your antidote.”
“I shall, gods willing.” Locke scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll have to let him know that we’ve made our personal acquaintance; he must have other eyes in your “Spire who’ll figure it out sooner or later. Best have it explained sooner.”
“Of course. Is he likely to bring you back to the Mon Magisteria soon?” “I don’t know how soon, but yes. Very much more than likely”
“Good. That means he might blather on about his plans again. Now, let’s get you back down to Master de Ferra and your evening’s business. Cheating anyone tonight?” “We” d only just arrived. We were taking in the cage spectacle.” “Oh, the wasps. Quite a windfall, those monsters.” “Dangerous property.” “Yes, a Jeremite captain had a seed hive and a queen he was trying to sell. My people tipped off customs, had him executed, burned the queen, and the rest vanished into my keeping after they were impounded. I knew I’d find some sort of use for them.” “And the young man facing them?”
“Some eighth son of a titled nobody with sand for brains and debts to the “Spire. He said he’d cover his markers or die trying, and I took him at his word.”
“Well, I” ve got a hundred solari on him, so I hope he lives to cover those markers.” He turned back toward Selendri. “The climbing closet again?”
“Only to the sixth floor. You can walk back down from there.” She smirked slightly. “By yourself.”
4
When Locke managed to elbow his way back down to the second floor at last, the young man in the cage was limping, bleeding and wobbling on his feet. Half a dozen stiletto wasps were free in the enclosure, hovering and darting aro
und him. Locke sighed as he pushed through the crowd.
“Master Kosta! Returned to us just in time for the issue to be settled, I believe.”
Madam Durenna smiled over the top of her drink, some milky orange liquor in a slender glass vessel nearly a foot high. Jean was sipping from a smaller tumbler of something pale brown, and he passed an identical glass to Locke, who took it up with a grateful nod. Honeyed rum — hard enough to avoid Durenna’s scorn, but not quite powerful enough to start beating anyone’s better judgment down for the evening.
“Is it about that time? My apologies for my absence. Silly little business.” “Silly? With one of the Priori involved?”
“I made the mistake of showing him a card trick last week,” said Locke. “Now he’s making arrangements for me to perform the same trick for, ah, a friend of his.”
“It must be an impressive trick, then. More impressive than what you usually do at a card table?”
“I doubt it, madam.” Locke took a long sip from his drink. “For one thing, I don’t have to worry about such excellent opposition when I’m performing a card trick.” f
“Has anyone ever tried to cut out that disgustingly silver tongue of yours, Master Kosta?” “It’s become a traditional pastime in several cities I could mention.”
In the cage, the mad buzzing of the wasps grew louder as more of them exploded from their cells… two, three, four… Locke shuddered and watched helplessly as the blurry dark shapes hurtled around the meshed cage. The young man tried to stand his ground, then panicked and began to flail wildly. One wasp met his glove and was slapped to the floor, but another alighted on his lower back and drove its body down. The boy howled, slapped at it and arched his back. The crowd grew deadly silent in mingled horror and anticipation.
It was fast, but Locke would never have called it merciful. The wasps swarmed the young man, darting and stinging, digging their clawed legs into his blood-soaked shirt. One on his chest, one on his arm, its abdomen pulsing madly up and down… one fluttered about his hair, and another drove its sting home into the nape of his neck. The boy’s wild screams became wet choking noises. Foam trickled from his mouth, blood ran in rivulets down his face and chest, and at last he fell over, twitching wildly. The wasps buzzed and stalked atop his body, looking horribly like blood-coloured ants as they went about their business, still stinging and biting.
Locke’s stomach revolted against the small breakfast he’d eaten at the Villa Candessa, and he bit down hard on one of his curled fingers, using the pain to assert some self-control. When he turned back to Madam Durenna, his face was once again placid.
“Well,” she said, waving the four wooden sticks at him and Jean, “this is a tolerable salve for the wounds I still bear from our last meeting. But when shall we have the pleasure of full redress?”
“It can’t possibly come soon enough,” said Locke. “But if you’ll excuse us for the evening, we’ve got some… political difficulties to discuss. And before we leave I’m going to dispose of my drink on the body of the man who’s cost us two hundred solari.”
Madam Durenna waved airily and was reloading her silver pipe from a leather pouch before Locke and Jean had taken two steps. j Locked queasiness rose again as he approached the cage. The crowd was breaking up around him, trading marker sticks and enthusiastic babble. The last few paces around the cage, though, were already clear. The noise and movement in the room around them were keeping the wasps agitated. As Locke approached the cage, a pair leapt back into the air and hovered menacingly, bearing loudly against the inner layer of mesh and following him along. Their black eyes seemed to stare right into his. He cringed despite himself.
He knelt as close to the young man’s body as he could get, and in seconds half the free wasps in the enclosure were buzzing and batting against the mesh just a foot or two from his face. Locke threw the remaining half of his rum on die wasp-covered corpse. Behind him, there was an eruption of laughter.
“That’s the spirit, friend,” came a slurred voice. “Clumsy son of a bitch cost me five hundred solari. Take a piss on him while you’re down there!”
“Crooked Warden,” Locke muttered under his breath, speaking quickly, “a glass poured on die ground for a stranger without friends. Lord of gallants and fools, ease this man’s passage to the Lady of the Long Silence. This was a hell of a way to die. Do this for me and I’ll try not to ask for anything for a while. I really do mean that this time.”
Locke kissed the back of his left hand and stood up. With the blessing said, suddenly he couldn’t be far enough away from the cage. “Where now?” asked Jean quietly. “The hell away from these gods-damned insects.‘s The sky was clear over the sea and roofed in by clouds to the east; a high pearlescent ceiling hung there like frozen smoke beneath the moons. A hard breeze was blowing past them as they trudged across the docks that fringed the inner side of the Great Gallery, whipping discarded papers and other bits of junk about their feet. A ship’s bell echoed across the lapping silver water.
On their left, a dark Elderglass wall rose storey after storey like a looming cliff, crossed here and there by rickety stairs with faint lanterns to guide the way of those stumbling up and down them. At the top of those heights was the Night Market, and the edge of the vast roof that covered the tiers of the island down to the waves on its other side.
“Oh, fantastic,” said Jean when Locke had finished his recounting of what had transpired in Requin’s office. “So now we’ve got Requin thinking that Stragos is out to get him. I” ve never helped precipitate a civil war before. This should be fun.” “I didn’t have much choice,” said Locke. “Can you think of any r other convincing reasons for Stragos to take a personal interest in us? Without a good explanation, I was going out of that window, that much was clear.”
“If only you” d landed on your head, you” d have had nothing to fear but the bill for damaged cobblestones. Do you think Stragos needs to know that Requin’s not as blind to his agents as he thought?” “Oh, fuck the son of a bitch.” “Didn’t think so.”
“Besides, for all we know Stragos really is out to get Requin. They” re certainly not friends, and trouble’s brewing all over this damn city. On the assets side of the ledger,” said Locke, “I think Selendri can be sweet-talked, at least a little bit. And it appears that Requin really thinks of me as his.” “Well, good on that. Do you think it’s time to give him the chairs?”
“Yeah, the chairs… the chairs. Yes. Let’s do it before Stragos decides to push us around some more.”
“I’ll have them taken out of storage and brought round in a cart whenever you like.”
“Good. I’ll deliver them later this week, then. You mind avoiding the Sinspire for a night or two?” “Of course not. Any particular reason?”
“I just want to disappoint Durenna and Corvaleur for a bit. Until we’re a little more secure with our situation, I’d really prefer not to waste another night losing money and getting drunk. The betaparanella trick might rouse suspicion if we pull it again.”
“If you put it that way, I can’t say no. How about if I poke around in a few other places, and see if I can catch any whispers about the Archon and the Priori} I think we might arm ourselves with a little more of this city’s history.” “Lovely. What the hell’s this?”
They were not alone on the dockside; in addition to occasional strangers hurrying here and there on business, there were boatmen sleeping under cloaks beside their tied-up craft and a fair number of drunks and derelicts curled up beneath any shelter they could claim. A pile of crates lay just a few paces to their left, and in its shadow sat a thin figure covered in layers of torn rags, near a tiny alchemical globe that shone a pale red. The figure clutched a small burlap sack and beckoned to them with one pale hand. “Sirs, sirs!” The loud, croaking voice sounded female. “For pity’s sake, you fine gentlemen. For pity’s sake, for Perelandro’s sake. A coin, any coin, thin copper would do. Have pity, for Perelandro’s sake.”
Locke�
��s hand went to his purse, just inside his frock coat. Jean had taken his off and now carried it folded over his right arm; he seemed content to let Locke see to the evening’s act of charity.
“For Perelandro’s sake, madam, you may have more than just a centira.”
Temporarily distracted by the warm glow of his own affected gallantry, Locke was holding out three silver volani before the first little warning managed to register. The beggar would be happy to have one thin copper, and had a loud voice… why hadn’t they heard her speaking to any of the strangers who’d passed by just ahead of them?
And why was she reaching out with the burlap sack rather than an open hand?
Jean was faster than he was, and with no more elegant way to get Locke to safety, he raised his left arm and gave Locke a hard shove. A crossbow bolt punched a neat, dark hole in the burlap sack and hissed through the air between them; Locke felt it tug at his coat-tails as he fell sideways. He toppled over a smaller crate and landed clumsily on his back.
He sat up just in time to see Jean kick the beggar in the face. The woman’s head snapped back, but she planted her hands on the ground and scissored her legs, sweepingjean off his feet. As Jean hit the ground and tossed his folded coat away, the beggar drew her legs straight up, kicked them down and flung herself forward in an arc. She was on her feet in a second, casting off her rags.
Ah, shit. She’s a foot-boxer — a bloody chassoneur, Locke thought, stumbling to his feet. Jean hates that. Locke twitched his coat-sleeves and a stiletto fell into each hand. Moving warily, he skipped across the stones toward Jean’s attacker, who was kicking Jean in the ribs as the big man attempted to roll away. Locke was within three paces of the chassoneur when the slap of boot-leather against the ground warned of a presence close behind him. He raised the stiletto in his right hand as though to strike Jean’s assailant, then ducked and whirled, lunging blindly to his rear with the left-hand blade.
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