“Like I sed,” Bazie put in, when comment seemed called for, “Niver know wut a mon'll do, when 'e gets in Temple. I reckon ol' Londer ain' gonna be too pleased wi' yon Beel from 'ere on.”>
Skif smiled slowly. “Reckon yer right, Bazie.”>
* * * * * * * * * *>
The next several days passed much as the first had. Skif had originally been more than a little cautious around Bazie, especially when he found himself alone with the man. Crippled or not, Skif was in Bazie's control, and there was always the possibility that Bazie's interests in his boys went beyond the obvious. But Bazie never once showed anything but an honest friendliness that was both nurturing and practical. If Skif had ever known a real father, he would have recognized the odd feelings he was having now as being those of a son for a caring father—and he would have seen that Bazie's actions were like those of a caring father for his sons. He only knew that he liked Bazie enormously, and he trusted the man more and more with every moment. For his part, Bazie pretty much took care of his own needs, requiring only to be carried to and from the water closet. Skif was impressed by how calmly self-sufficient he was. He had guessed by now that Bazie was at least forty or fifty years old, and yet he never seemed old.>
There was one thing, however, that Bazie always insisted on which seemed rather odd to Skif. One of his daily chores was to set a handful of wheat to soaking, and rinse the sprouting grains from previous days. When the sprouts got to a certain length, Bazie would eat them. He didn't seem to like them very much, but he doggedly munched them down.>
“ ‘F ye don' like tha’ muck, why'd ye eat it ev' day?” Skif finally asked.>
“ 'Cuz I like m' teeth,” Bazie said shortly. “ ‘F I don' eat tha' muck, seein' as I niver sees th' sun, 'twon't be long 'fore I lose m'teeth an' gets sick. Tha's wut Healer tol' me fust time m' teeth started bleedin' an' I got sick. Mucky grass's cheapest stuff 'round, so's tha's wut I eat in winter. Summer, 'course, they's good stuff i' market.”>
As the days passed, Skif finally grew bold enough to voice some of his curiosity about this most curious of situations. Besides, getting Bazie to talk made a welcome break from being drilled in sums as he scrubbed or stirred the laundry kettle.>
At first, his questions were about commonplaces, but eventually he got up the courage to start asking more personal things. And, finally, he asked the most important of all.>
“Bazie—wut 'appened t' yer legs?” he ventured, and waited, apprehensively, for a hurt or angry reply.>
But Bazie voiced neither. Instead, he gazed at Skif for a moment. “ 'Tis a long story, but 'tothers 'ave 'eard it, an' likely they'll figger it oughta be me 'as tells ye.” He paused. “Ye ever 'ear uv th' Tedrel Wars?”>
Skif shook his head.>
“Thought not.” Bazie sighed gustily. “Wuz back yon twenny yearn, easy, mebbe thutty. Well, I wuz in't. Tedrel mercs—tha's mercenaries, they's people wut fights wars fer money, fer them as don' figger on doin' the fightin' thesselves—they wuz paid t'come up from south, t' fight 'gainst Valdemar fer Karse. On'y 'twasn't t' be known thet they wuz doin' it fer Karse; they wuz a lot uv promises made 'bout Tedrels gettin' t' hev t'half uv Valdemar when they won.” He shook his head. “Daft. 'Course, I didn' know thet. I wuz young 'n dumb, didn' think about nawt but loot an' wimmin.”>
“You wuz with 'em?” Skif asked, turning to look at him, mouth agape.>
“Oh, aye. Stupid.” He shook his head. “Furst fight, practic'ly, got m' legs took off at knee. Didn' know then if 'twas good luck thet I lived, or bad. Got took up wi' rest uv prisoners, an' when war wuz over, didn' hev nowhere t' go. On'y I wuz in meres cuz I wuz caught thievin' an' had t' 'ide, so me'n a couple other young fools decided we stick t'gether an' see 'f I cud teach 'em wut I knew 'bout thievin'. So we did, an' I did.”>
“Wut 'appened to 'em?” Skif asked.>
Bazie shrugged. “Went back 'ome when they had th' glim, an' by then, I 'ad young Ames 'n Jodri, an' I reckoned I 'ad a good thing. I teach the young 'uns an' they share th' swag. Works out.” He smiled—a little tightly. “Sorta like gettin' some uv th' loot I wuz promised. Heh. Mebbe I ain't got part uv Valdemar, but Valdemar's still feedin' me. An’ I'm still alive, so I reckon I'm doin' all right.”>
Skif pondered all of that; it was kind of interesting. “So, how come ye take sech good care uv us, eh?” he asked.>
Bazie laughed aloud. “An’ ye'd do what if I didn'? Run off, right? 'Sides, I kinda like the comp'ny. 'Ad a good fam'ly an' I miss it. Me da wuz a good 'un, on'y 'e got 'urt, an' died, an' I 'ad t' do wut I culd fer me an' mum an' m' brothers—till they got sick an' died i' plague. Allus wished I'd 'ad family uv me own, on'y they's nuthin' but hoors wi' mere army, and wut wimmin 'ud hev a fam'ly wi' me now?” He shrugged. “So I reckon I make me own fam'ly, eh?”>
“They sez, i' Temple,” Skif ventured, “thet friends is th' fam'ly ye kin choose. I sure's hellfires wouldn' hev chose m' nuncle, nor Kalchan. Reckon this way's a bit better.”>
He was rewarded by a beaming smile from Bazie—and perhaps, just a hint of moisture in his eyes, hastily and covertly removed with a swipe of the hand. “Aye,” Bazie agreed. “Reckon tha's right.”>
Skif quickly turned his questions to other topics, mostly about life as a mercenary, which Bazie readily answered.>
“’Tis a life fer the young'n stupid, mostly, I'm thinkin',” he admitted. “Leastwise, wuz wi' Tedrels. Seems t' me, if yer gonna fight, mebbe ye shouldn' be fightin' fer things summun else thinks is 'portant. But 'twas lively. Did a mort'a travelin', though 'twas mostly on shank's mare. Got fed reg'lar. Seems t' me that lot uv lads joined thinkin' they wuz gonna get rich, an' I knew thet wouldn' 'appen. Reg'lar merc, 'e don' get rich, 'specially not Tedrels.”>
“Why?” Skif wanted to know.>
Bazie laughed. ‘“Cause Tedrels wuzn't Guild mercs, tha's why! Tedrels, they sez, useta be in they own land, but got run out. So they took up fightin' fer people, th' whole lot uv 'em. By time I 'id out wi' em, Tedrels took wut nobuddy else would, cuz th' fights they took't weren't real smart. Ain't no Guild merc comp'ny wud fight 'gainst Valdemar! And ain't no Guild comp'ny wud fights for Karse. They's bunch uv fanatics, an' they ain't too good t'their own folk.” He pondered for a moment. “Ye know, I kinda wondered 'f they figgered t' use us up, so's they wouldn' hev t' pay us. But I guess Cap'n wuz pretty desp'rate, so they took't th' job.” He shook his head. “I'druther be'n 'onest thief. I figger'd t' make m'self scarce when th' coast wuz clear, on'y it niver wuz, an' they allus 'ad an eye lookin’ fer deserters.”>
“Huh. So how come they ain't no problem gettin' folks fer Guard, 'f goin' t' fight's a dumb thing?” Skif wanted to know.>
“Oh, th' Guard, thet's different,” Bazie acknowledged. “They's got 'onor. When they ain't 'elpin' beaks, they's watchin' Border, cleanin' out bandits an' slavers.” He shook his head. “Got no use fer bandits an' slavers. Us, we on'y take frum people kin afford a bit took't frum 'em. Tha's rule, right?”>
Skif nodded; he'd already been given that rule numerous times. Here in the poorer part of town, the only legitimate targets, by Bazie's rules, were the people like Kalchan and Uncle Londer. Most thefts were out of the pockets and possessions of those who had the money to spare for luxury.>
“Bandits an' slavers, they's hurtin' people nor better orf than us'n,” Bazie declared. “So, bein' in Guard's 'onor'ble. An' Valdemar Guard takes care uv their own, so's not so daft t' join op.”>
This was getting altogether too confusing and complicated for Skif, and evidently Bazie saw from his expression that he was sorely puzzled.>
“Don’ worry 'bout it fer now,” he cautioned, “’Tis all complisticated, an' real 'ard t' ‘splain. 'Ellfires, sometimes I cain't figger it out.”>
Skif pursed his lips, but decided that Bazie was probably right. There was just far too much in life that was altogether too complicated to try and work out. Like religion—if the Gods cared so much about people, why did they allow the Kalchans and the Londe
rs—and worse—to go on doing what they did? Why wasn't everybody fed and warm and happy? Why were there rich people who had piles more things than they needed, and people like him who didn't have anything?>
It was all far more than he could wrap his mind around, and eventually he just had to give up on it all.>
Maybe someday he'd have some answers. For right now, he had food in his belly, a warm place to sleep, and friends.>
And what more could anyone ask for, really? Gods and honor and all the rest of that stuff could go hang. He would put his loyalty with those who earned it.>
SKIF was excited; finally, two weeks after he had officially joined the gang, something he had been hoping for all along happened. Bazie decided that when the boys returned from their own forays into the streets, although his talent probably lay in the area of burglary, he ought to have training in “the liftin' lay”—the art of the pickpocket.>
All three of the boys were enthusiastic when Bazie put it to them. “ 'E might's well as not!” Raf exclaimed. “Ain't no 'arm, an' 'e might 'ave th' touch arter all.”>
Deek nodded. “ 'Sides, Bazie, any mun kin run shake'n'snatch. An' fer that, we orter 'ave a new'un anyroad.”>
So Raf and Deek got out some bits and pieces from various cupboards, and began to put together a most peculiar object. When they were done, there was something like a headless man standing in the middle of their room, one hung all over with bells.>
“There!” Bazie said, looking at their handiwork with pleasure. “Mind, yon's not wut a mun wants t' 'ave in 'is place when beaks come callin'. Dead giveaway, that. But I do sez, I done good work wi' that lad. Ye'll no find a better 'un this side uv th' Border.”>
So Bazie had built this thing in the first place? It was very sturdy, in spite of being assembled from a lot of apparently disparate bits. In the mannequin's pockets were handkerchiefs, around his “neck” was a kerchief, and he had two belt pouches slung from his belt and a third tucked into the breast of his tunic.>
Skif could not imagine how anyone could get at any of these tempting articles. Even the belt pouches were slung right under the mannequin's stuffed arm. But Raf, their expert, was about to show him.>
“Watch close, young 'un,” Bazie chuckled. “Yon Raf's slick.”>
He strolled up to stand beside the mannequin, looking from side to side as if he was observing the traffic in a street. Meanwhile—without ever so much as glancing at his quarry—his hand moved very, very slowly toward one of the handkerchiefs just barely hanging out of a pocket. Thread by thread, almost, he delicately removed it, and when it fell free of the mannequin's pocket, he whisked it into his own so quickly it seemed to vanish. As slowly as it had seemed to move, the whole business had not taken very long—certainly it was reasonable to think that a target would have remained standing beside the thief for that period of time, especially in a crowd or at the side of a busy street with a lot of traffic on it.>
“Tha's th’ 'ard way,” Bazie told Skif, who watched with wide eyes. “Raf, 'e's th' best I ivir showed. 'E's got th' touch, fer certain-sure.”>
Now Raf sidled up to the other side of the mannequin, still casual and calm; he pretended to point at something, and while the target's attention was presumably distracted for a moment, out came a knife no bigger than a finger, and between one breath and the next, the strings of both belt pouches had been slit and knife and pouches were in Raf's pocket.>
And all without jingling a single bell.>
Now it was Lyle's turn, and he extracted the remaining handkerchief without difficulty, although he was not as smooth as Raf. “I'm not near that good,” Deek said, “So I'm got t' do th' shake'n'snatch. Tha' takes two.”>
He got up, and he and Lyle advanced on the mannequin together. Then Lyle pretended to stumble and fell against it, setting all the bells jingling; as it fell into him, Deek grabbed for it. “ 'Ey there, lad!” he exclaimed. “Steady on! An' you— watch where yer goin', you! Mussin' up a gennelmun like that!”>
Skif would have expected Deek to pretend to brush the mannequin off, and get hold of his goods that way, but Deek did nothing of the sort. He simply set it straight. They both moved off, but now the mannequin no longer had the kerchief around its neck, and Deek held up both the kerchief and the pouch that had been tucked inside its tunic triumphantly.>
“Tha's th' easy road, but riskier,” Bazie noted. “Chance is, if mun figgers 'e's been lifted, 'e'll send beaks lookin' fer th' shaker—tha's Lyle.”>
“An' I'm be clean,” Lyle pointed out. “Ain't nothin' on me, an' beak'll let me go.”>
“But if 'e knows th' liftin' lay, it'll be Deek 'e'll set beak on, an' Deek ain't clean. Or mun might even be sharp 'nuff t' figger 'twas both on 'em,” Bazie cautioned. “Ye run th' shake'n'snatch, ye pick yer cony careful. Gotta be one as is wuth it, got 'nuf glim t' take th' risk, but one as ain't too smart, ye ken? An' do't when's a mort uv crowd, but not so's ye cain't get slipput away.”>
Skif nodded solemnly.>
“Na, 'tis yer turn. Jest wipes, fer now.”>
Skif then spent a humbling evening, trying to extract handkerchiefs from the mannequin's pocket without setting off the bells. Try as he might, with sweat matting his hair from the strain, he could not manage to set off less than two. And here he'd thought that he'd been working hard, hauling water and doing laundry, or going over walls and roofs with Deek! That had been a joke compared with this!>
At length, Bazie took pity on him. “That'll be 'nuff, lad,” he said, as Skif sagged with mingled weariness and defeat. “Ye done not bad, fer th' fust time. Ye'll get better, ye ken. Put yon dummy i't' corner, an' leave 'im fer now. Time fer a bit uv supper.”>
Skif was glad to do so. It was beginning to occur to him that the life of a thief was not as easy as most people believed, and most thieves pretended. The amount of skill it took was amazing; the amount of work to acquire that skill more than he had imagined. Not that he was going to give up!>
I'll get this if't kills me.>
“So, wha's news, m'lads?” Bazie asked, deftly slicing paper-thin wafers of sweet onion. This was going to be a good supper tonight, and they were all looking forward to it. Deek and Skif had done well for the little gang.>
Lyle sliced bread and spread it with butter that Skif had gotten right out of a fancy inn's kitchen that very morning. He and Deek had been down in the part of town where the best inns and taverns were, actually just passing through, when one of those strokes of luck occurred that could never have been planned for.>
The inn next to the one they had been passing had caught fire—they never found out why, only saw the flames go roaring up and heard the hue and cry. Everyone in the untouched place they'd stopped beside, staff and customers alike, had gone rushing out—either to help or to gawk—and he and Deek had slipped inside in the confusion.>
Somehow, without having a plan, they'd gotten in, snatched the right things, and gotten out within moments. For one thing, they had gone straight to the kitchen as the best bet. Taking money was out of the question; they didn't know where the till was. There was no time to search for valuable property left behind in the confusion. Without discussion, they had gone for what they needed, where they knew they would find something worth taking.>
The kitchen.>
Like the rest of the inn, it was deserted—when the chief cook left, everyone else had taken the excuse to run out, too. There must have been a big delivery not long before, since the kitchen was full of unwrapped and partially unwrapped parcels of food.>
It was like being turned loose in the best market in town. Skif had grabbed a wrapped block of butter, a cone of sugar, and a ham, and a handful of the brown paper the stuff had come wrapped in. Deek had gone for a whole big dry-cured hard sausage, a string of smaller ones, and half a wheel of cheese. Then out the back and over the wall they went, into an alley that was full of smoke and hid them beautifully. As soon as they were in the smoke, Skif and Deek pulled out the string bags they always brought with th
em just in case something in the nature of foodstuffs presented itself. Quickly wrapping up the articles in paper under cover of the smoke, they stuffed their booty into the bags, then came running out of the smoke into the crowd, coughing and wheezing far more than was necessary, acting like innocents who'd gone shopping for their mums and been caught in the alley. No one paid them any mind—they were all too busy ogling the fire and the bucket brigade or craning their necks to see if the fire brigade had gotten to the burning inn yet. Skif and Deek had strolled homeward openly, carrying enough food to last them all for weeks. All of it luxury stuff, too—not the sort of thing they got to taste more than once in a while. They had eggs a lot, since they were pretty cheap, with just about anyone who had a bit of space keeping pigeons or chickens, even in the city.>
Bread was at every meal; bread was the staple of even the poorest diets.>
Roots like tatties and neeps were cheap enough, too, and cabbage, and onions—even old Kalchan had those at the inn. Dried pease and beans made a good soup, and Kalchan had those, too, though more often than not they were moldy.>
Skif had eaten better with Bazie than he ever had in his life, even allowing for what he'd snitched from Lord Orthallen's kitchen. Good butter, though—butter that was all cream and not mixed half-and-half with lard—they didn't see much of that. Deek's cheese wasn't the cheap stuff that they generally got, made after the cream had been skimmed from the milk. And as for ham and sausages—sausages where you didn't have to think twice about what might have gone into them— well, those were food for the rich. And sugar—>
Skif had never tasted sugar until he started snitching at Lord Orthallen's table. Bazie had a little screw of paper with some, and once in a while they all got a bit in their tea. Now they'd be able to sweeten their tea at every meal.>
Each of them had a slice of bread well-buttered, with a thin slice of onion atop, and a slice of hard sausage atop that. The aroma of sage and savory from the sausage made Skif's mouth water. Bazie had put some of his sprouting beans on his slice, and had taken a second slice of buttered bread to hold it all together. Skif hoped the sprouts wouldn't taste bad with all that good stuff in and around it. They were going to eat like kings for a while.>
Mercedes Lackey - Vows & Honor 06 Page 9