“Just start a fight with the leader?”
He tapped a finger on his temple. “No. I’m talking about outsmarting him. If you just go for the brawl, the rest might pile on.”
“Insult him.”
“Tear him down. You want all those street boys to want to follow you instead of him. You want them to think they’re lucky that you’re giving them the time of day.”
“All right. I think I can do that.” She went to leave.
“One more thing,” Asti said. “Once you have them, don’t give them an inch. Tight leash.”
“Got it.” She paused at the doorframe. “That isn’t how you treated us.”
“That’s because I like you all.”
She laughed, a low, hoarse chuckle. “You all right here, by yourself and everything?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Listen, I—” She stepped back into the room. “I haven’t told anyone else about what really happened to you the other night. As far as they know, you got jumped by Yenner’s guys and that held you up.”
“I appreciate that.” The last thing he needed was the crew to think he couldn’t handle this gig.
“Does Verci know?”
“Of course he does,” Asti said. “I couldn’t keep it from him. But everyone else, they . . .”
“They deserve to know what’s going on with you. We all have to trust—”
“Shouldn’t trust too much, Mila,” he said. “Count on your crew to do their jobs. Trust is something else.”
Her eyes hardened. “I’m trusting that you’re going to keep your rolling head in one blasted piece. Let me know if you can’t blazing well enough to do that.” She stormed off.
Asti let out a breath he hardly realized he’d been holding in.
Mila was right. He was barely keeping his head together. He couldn’t let something like this happen again, and he’d be damned if he’d let anything like it hurt the people around him, or stop him from doing what he had to do. He’d get this gig done, he’d do right by his crew. Once that was handled, he could slip quietly out of town and toss away whatever scraps of sanity he still clung to.
He turned to the windowsill, taking the scope and pencil in hand.
4 bells 10, he wrote. One guard uses alleyway for water closet. Other guard pretends not to notice.
Mila tracked a handful of street boys to a shabby wooden bridge crossing the creek past Scal Road. Tiny bridge, only wide enough for one person to walk across, rotted through in several spots. The bridge didn’t lead anywhere. On the Seleth side there was only a lot with patches of grass clawing through the broken cobblestone, boxed in by buildings on all sides. A perfect place for a bunch of boys to stay out of sight and get into mischief.
A dozen boys at least. None of them older than twelve. Perfect.
Mila buttoned up Asti’s jacket. She had on slacks and boots, and her hair was pulled back, so she almost looked like a boy. Almost. She’d never fool them, but they’d know she wasn’t the kind of girl to mess with. Especially with a knife on one hip and a coiled rope on the other.
She crossed the bridge, strong, confident strides, even though the wood groaned with each step. The boys paid her no mind, focusing their attention on throwing rocks at an upper floor window—the only one intact.
How would Asti take control here?
She picked up a rock, and gave a sharp whistle. The boys all turned to her.
She hurled the rock. Strong arm, true aim. The window shattered. “Looks like you’ve got nothing more to break over here.”
“What’s that about, skirt?” one of them yelled. In the center. Tallest. Leader, in as much as these boys would have one. They weren’t a gang, not yet, though every one of them would probably end up that way.
“This your idea, pip?” She walked up close, getting into his face. “Breaking windows in an empty lot?”
“What of it?” His breath was hot and rancid.
“Waste and sewage, that’s what it is. Was this his idea?” she asked one of the littler ones.
“Yeah.”
“Shut it,” the older boy hissed.
“You’d think if you’re gonna listen to him, he’d have better ideas,” she said to the little ones.
“Who the blazes are you, skirt?”
She patted his cheek, just hard enough to insult. “Someone with ideas, pip.”
“I got an idea.” He gave her a wicked grin, and lashed out with a wild punch. She easily stepped out of the way, putting one hand on her rope. He turned back to her and charged. Sloppy and ugly. She dodged and tripped him up, sending him flying to the ground. Before he could get up, she knelt down on his back.
“Scrap and break, that’s all you have?” She shook her head, looking up at the other boys. They all seemed to be waiting for one of the others to do something. “No wonder you just hide back here.”
“We ain’t hiding,” one of the other boys said.
“You ain’t doing anything. Because this one doesn’t think of anything.” She dug her knee between his shoulder blades for a moment, and he cried out. Then she got up again. “None of you think of anything.”
“Stupid skirt,” the eldest muttered.
“Never mind,” she said, walking away. “Waste your time. There might be some boys over on Calder Way who want to make a few crowns.”
“Oy!” one of them called. “You didn’t say anything about money.”
Hooked.
She turned back. “You want to make some money?”
They all nodded.
“Then you’ll listen to what I tell you, hear? You listen, you say, ‘Yes, Miss Bessie,’ and then you do it. Hear?” Bess had been her mother’s name. Them calling her that sounded good to her ear. It sounded like being in charge.
She looked at the eldest, still lying on the ground. “We hear.”
“Hmm?” she asked, giving him a pointed look.
“Yes, Miss Bessie.” He spat out the words, but he said them. She had them.
“All right. Who’s fast?”
The little boy raised his hand up, proudly, eagerly.
“All right, pip,” she said. Call them all pip, she thought. Then I don’t have to learn any damn names. “You’re gonna run up to a flop over in Keller Cove and deliver a message . . .”
Chapter 18
MILA HAD NO REAL CLUE what she needed to be doing now that she had her cadre of boys. Scouting, Asti had said. Move herself and her boys into the blocks around the Emporium and shake their hats. Keep watch and find out what they can. But the boys weren’t supposed to know what they were looking at or why. Far as they knew, they were keeping an eye out for sticks and other trouble.
So she shook the hat for a day and a half, even though she couldn’t care less about what she got. It was hard to fake that level of need when she had several dozen crowns in her dress. She knew she was eating today, she knew where she was sleeping. And she could give the boys a fair share out of her hatshake. That should keep their loyalties square. From what Asti said, that was what mattered most right now.
They were all a good bunch of pips, and they all thought she was grooming them for a proper gang. That’s why they took the money and asked no questions when she sent them to run between her and Asti.
She glanced over to the Emporium, where a couple of well-groomed swells were going in for lunch. Another one came out, shook hands with them, talked to the valet. She could get well-groomed and have lunch if she really wanted.
Not here, though. She’d be damned if that blasted Tyne would get one tick of her dressful of crowns.
“Oy.” Another valet came up to the swell. “Ecrain wants to talk to you.”
The swell shuddered and rolled his eyes. “Just bring more food.”
The valet shrugged. “Said you.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t ask.” The valet looked a little spooked.
The swell shook his head. “Mages.” He stomped back into the place.
That sounded like the sort of thing Asti needed to know.
“Mages,” Verci muttered.
“What was that?” Hal asked from the sitting room. Verci knew Hal was already in a bit of a snit over a “street rat” delivering a note to his house. An inquisitive snit.
“Just a message from Asti,” Verci said, holding up the note. Hal wouldn’t be able to read it—no one other than Verci knew how to read Asti’s scratch code—but if he could he would probably ask why Asti was writing. “Possible mage on staff.”
“What’s Asti doing?” Hal asked suspiciously.
“He was looking for a new flop, wasn’t he?” Raych called from the kitchen. Bless her, thinking on her feet.
“Right,” Verci said, shaking the note vigorously before putting it into his pocket. “He was just letting me know he’s found one, out in Keller Cove.”
“Easted, did he?” Hal pursed his lips. “That delivery you made across the river must have paid well.”
“Well enough,” Verci said.
“Speaking of,” Raych said as she came out of the kitchen, brushing flour off her dress, “we should start looking. And I’d prefer to stay in the neighborhood if we can.”
“Going to be tough,” Hal said. “I heard up on the docks that a lot of landlords are hiking their rents.”
“That’s pretty low,” Verci muttered.
“Must make hay when the sun shines,” Hal said. There was another knock on the door. He grumbled incoherently as he got out of his seat and went back to the foyer.
“What’s the news?” Raych whispered.
“Just some news Asti found about the gig. Nothing to worry about.” It was a big wrinkle, actually, but an obvious one, now that he thought about it. Mages for hire cost quite a few crowns, but for someone like Tyne, it would be worth the expense. They had to assume the mage was part of the security, and that would be another problem to solve.
“Verci,” Hal called from the foyer. “Someone else to see you.”
“See me?” Verci asked.
“Mister Chell?” Raych asked.
Verci shrugged and went to the door, Raych right at his hip. To his surprise, the visitor was Mersh.
“Begging pardon, Mister and Missus Rynax,” Mersh said, taking his white cap off and holding it to his chest. “I was wondering if I could have a few words.” He glanced out at the street behind him. “Perhaps in private.”
“Yes, of course,” Verci said, holding his arm open to welcome the man in. “Hal, this is Mersh, the baker from Junk Avenue.”
Hal’s eyes brightened. Verci knew the way Hal thought—if he knew Mersh was a working merchant, he would be far more approving of the man entering his house. “Of course, yes. I’m sorry, Mister Mersh, I didn’t know you.” He laughed nervously as he patted his ample belly. “I’m afraid with my wife, I don’t have much call to visit your bakery.”
Mersh nodded with humble sympathy. Verci noticed how much the man was putting on a show, though he wasn’t entirely sure whose benefit the show was for.
Hal led them all back to the sitting room, and with a slight prod from Raych, he went to the kitchen for tea.
“What can we do for you, Mersh?”
“I have a brother in Kyst, and I’ve just received word that he is very ill. He’s a family man, many children. I’ve decided I need to go out and help them all, and I should leave right away.”
This sounded a bit rehearsed. Verci was wondering what he was—no, what Josie was playing at here. “So you’ll be shutting down the bakery.”
“If that’s what has to happen,” Mersh said. “I’d prefer not to have to. The bakery serves the neighborhood, you know, and in times like these, I’d hate—no one wants to see another shop shut down.” He hit the words “no one” strongly, locking eyes with Verci, so Verci would know exactly who “no one” actually was.
“Of course,” Verci said. Raych, sitting next to him, had taken his hand, and began to squeeze it tightly.
“I’ve heard rumor that your wife—and please scold me if I’m talking out of turn, Missus Rynax—is quite gifted in the baking arts.”
“Why, thank you,” Raych said.
“What we were—” Mersh stumbled, then bit his lip. “I mean, I was hoping that the two of you would be willing to take over the bakery during my indefinite leave. Of course, there are rooms upstairs for you to stay in, and plenty of extra space for you to work on your little projects, Mister Rynax.”
Raych squeezed so hard she nearly broke his hand.
“I think that would be agreeable,” Verci said. “Don’t you think so, Raych?”
“Quite,” Raych said, her face covered with a wide smile.
“Good,” Mersh said, standing up. “I’ll have my factor come to you with the details . . . let us say, rent purely as a percentage of profits?”
“More than fair,” Verci said.
Mersh went for the door. “Then I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. You can move in any point after that.”
“One thing,” Verci said, following him out. “Just that, um . . . a bakery could be a . . . dangerous place. You know, for a small child. I just worry that someone might grab or pull something. Get hurt. You understand.”
“I understand,” Mersh said, clapping Verci on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure I leave everything dangerous locked up tight. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good then,” Verci said, opening the door. Mersh nodded in farewell, and went out to the street.
Raych was at Verci’s side. “What just happened? Are we bakers now?”
“We are, I guess,” Verci said. He grinned deviously at his wife. “After all, it’s very important that the community sees we have a legitimate business, don’t you think?”
Raych narrowed her eyes and whispered, “So they don’t ask where our money comes from?”
“Something like that.”
“To make sure there’s no questions, it better be a damn good bakery.” Her grin was impish, and her excitement infectious. She turned to the kitchen. “Lian! I’m going to need the book!”
Joram 5, 8 bells 50. Milk delivery. Milkman gives a bottle to the guard. Quick heated conversation between them. Suspect milkman tried to court a favor, failed. Asti put down the pencil and rubbed his eyes. He’d been at watch for almost two days now, and with only a few naps and scraps of dried beef to keep himself going. He felt terrible, but he was relishing how bad it felt, how real, how much he loved feeling like this from working.
Almost nine bells, he thought, then the guards change. I’ll note who’s working and take another nap. He was pleased with his plan when the words “nine bells” drifted across his brain again.
Kimber.
“Bloody rutting blazing saints!” he swore as he pulled himself on his feet. He had completely forgot. He tore into his knapsack, pulling out a clean shirt and vest. He quickly stripped out of the ripe one he was wearing, used it to polish his boots, and threw on the new one.
He bounded out of the flop, leaping down the stairs five at a time, smashing his way past two dozing doxies at the bottom stairs. He hit the street and broke into a dead run. The streets were full of people, most of whom were paying enough attention to see him sprinting like a madman down the street and get out of his way.
This is not the way to lay low, he thought as he crossed over Wheeler into North Seleth.
He crossed the creek bridge into Bridget Square just as the clock tower over the church started to peal out the time. A few dozen people milled about the square, some of them looking like they’d been sitting there all night. If not longer.
Strolling across the square was Nange Lesk, with no fewer than six flunkies walking
with him. Past Lesk and his men, Kimber stood at the bottom of the church steps, wearing a bright but sober dress. Her eyes lit up as she spotted Asti across the square.
Asti ran over, no way to do it without Nange seeing him.
“Rynax,” Nange called out. “I need a word.”
“Another time,” Asti said as he passed, ducking out of the way of Nange’s big-armed goon. “Have to get to church.”
Without slowing down he closed the distance to the church steps, reaching it just as the ninth bell rang out.
“Well, well,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m genuinely surprised.”
“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Asti asked, breathing deeply through his nose.
“If you hadn’t, you would have walked,” she said, patting his cheek. “Come on, let’s hear the sermon.”
“The sermon,” Asti repeated. “Right. You sure about that, Kimber?” He glanced back at Nange and his crew. They all looked fully riled up, ready to cause him trouble. Still, he’d rather ball his fists and dive into the lot of them instead of go up the steps.
“Completely,” she said sternly. She looked him in the eyes, looking deeper and longer than he felt comfortable with. “I’m certain of only a few things, Asti, and most of them have to do with food or drink. But I know that you are a man in great need of spiritual guidance. So come on.”
She walked him up to the church. Asti hesitated at the threshold. He didn’t know what was stopping him. He knew, fully in his head, that walking in and listening to the sermon was little more than an hour of his time, a reasonable price for the good grace he had gotten from Kimber. Still, his heart pounded. Sweat started to bead on his brow.
Kimber’s soft hand curled into his, and she pulled him inside. Asti felt an instinct to lash out at any hand pulling on his. He would never want to do anything like that to Kimber. Despite that, the urge raged strongly within him.
“Kimber, I—” he started.
“Shush,” she whispered, pointing to the reverend, who was already well into his sermon.
The Holver Alley Crew Page 22