“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I responded. “Just out late, didn’t want to walk home with the weather.”
It was clear he didn’t believe me. “These came for you while you were out.” He handed me a pair of envelopes, and waited while I tore open the seals.
The first, tight script against cream-colored paper, was from Celia. My workings have borne fruit. You will find evidence of the Blade’s crimes in a hidden chamber in the desk in his study, beneath a false bottom. Good luck. C
Short as it was I had to read it twice to make sure I got it right. Then I set it aside, trying to keep the smile off my face. I’d all but forgotten about the working Celia had promised to perform-those things rarely go as advertised, and never quickly enough to be of help. But if she was right, then I had a line on something real I could take to Black House. I set my mind toward Beaconfield’s mansion, and the machinations that would be required to again gain entrance to it.
Wren bolted his way in from the back room, so finely attuned to the mood of the place he could tell when I’d arrived. Which was good, because there was a man I needed to make contact with, and I didn’t feel like walking. “You need to run a message for me.”
His expression remained unchanged, but I’d had enough evidence of the bear trap quality of his memory not to need any outward displays of attention.
“Take Pritt Street east past the docks, into Alledtown but before you hit the Asher enclave.” I rattled off a street name and house number. “Tell the woman at the entrance you need to speak to Mort the Fish-she’ll let you on up. Tell Mort I need to see the doctor. Tell him it’s urgent, and tell him the doctor will be glad he made time.”
“Don’t forget your coat!” Adolphus added, although the boy was heading toward it anyway. Wren pulled it over his shoulders and set out into the snow.
“He can tell the weather,” I said after he was gone.
“I didn’t want him to get cold.”
“Just because you got him three months ago doesn’t make him three months old.”
Adolphus shrugged and tapped his finger against the remaining letter. “The aristocrat came by earlier this morning for you. Wanted me to give you this. You got any more business with that one, try and do it outside my bar.”
“Guiscard’s not so bad.”
“I wouldn’t trust him.”
“I’m not. I’m using him.” I read through the note. “And he seems to have been of service.” Afonso Cadamost spends most of his waking hours at a wyrm den on Tolk Street beneath the sign of a gray lantern. You were right-we are still keeping tabs on him.
Guiscard was sapling green if he didn’t know Black House kept tabs on damn near everyone. I looked back up at Adolphus. “Are you going to get me breakfast or not?”
He rolled his eyes, but stepped into the back room and called for Adeline.
I was massacring my plate of eggs when Wren returned, his hair slick with snow and his face flushed with enthusiasm, or perhaps the cold.
“He says okay. He says the doctor will meet you at the Daevas’ Work pub off Beston in two hours.”
I nodded and went back to finishing off my sausage.
“Who’s the doctor?” Wren asked.
“You’ll find out in two hours,” I said. “Take your coat off-it’s warm in here.”
He looked at me, then shrugged and headed to the rack.
There are two ways to meet the best second-story man in Rigus. The first is quick and easy. Catch a shiv anywhere from Kirentown to Offbend and, if you’re lucky enough not to bleed out in the street, you’ll be taken to Mercy of Prachetas Hospital. Inside this somber edifice, assuming you aren’t forgotten by their massive and incompetent bureaucracy, you’ll be taken to an overworked medical professional who will pronounce your wound untreatable and prescribe a few drops of attaraxium to speed your ascent into the afterlife. As the light goes from your eyes, you’d likely be shocked to discover that the short, affable-looking gentleman standing over you and easing your meeting with She Who Waits Behind All Things is responsible for three of the five most lucrative heists in the history of Rigus, including the legendary theft of the Amber Pagoda, the exact details of which have never been successfully reconstructed.
If the first option doesn’t sound square, you’ll have to settle for the second-putting a word into the ear of his agent, a fat-faced, unpleasant Rouender, and hoping that his client decides your job is interesting enough to warrant an interruption of his schedule.
To that end I was sitting in a small neighborhood bar on the outskirts of the Old City. I’d left Wren at a corner table in the front, not wanting to spook my prospective envoy-although the doctor would need to have awfully weak nerves to be overcome by the sight of a hundred-and-ten-pound prepubescent.
I’d been waiting about twenty minutes when he walked in. The single most talented larcenist since the execution of Fierce Jack Free was an open-faced little Tarasaihgn, somewhat fairer of skin than most swamp dwellers, but apart from that utterly average. We had met a few times, under the kind of predictably clandestine circumstances that didn’t encourage intimacy.
“It’s been a while,” he said.
“Dr. Kendrick, a pleasure.”
He hung his coat on the hook next to our booth and sat down across from me.
“Not at all. Actually I was surprised when Mort told me who’d contacted him. I always got the impression you didn’t much care for me.”
His impression was correct-I didn’t like Dr. Kendrick. He was friendly enough, and his skills were beyond question-but I’d never worked with him and would have preferred to keep that streak unbroken.
The code of the criminal is clean if not honest, based on naked self-interest and the accumulation of capital. You don’t need to respect a man to work with him, or even trust him. You just need to know you’re giving him the best deal. But Kendrick didn’t care about money. Doctors aren’t paupers, and anyway he’d made enough through his various heists to have retired rich a dozen times over. He was in it for the thrill-you could see that in his eyes.
At the end of the day I didn’t care how many ochres he’d stolen or that his street name was spoken in reverential tones throughout the underworld. I didn’t care that he could scale the sheer face of a rock wall or pick a triple-rated lock while tossing back shots of corn liquor. I learned quickly growing up in Low Town that the only excuse for crime is survival. Excitement and renown are concerns one busies one’s mind with on a full stomach. The doctor was a thrill seeker, and this wasn’t a business for him, it was a game. You can’t trust a man like that. He’s apt to go screwy at inopportune moments.
Of course, no self-respecting professional would have come within a hundred feet of a job this half-baked-I hadn’t even bothered to ring out any of the rest of my contacts. The peculiar nature of the job limited my options.
“I don’t have much need for subcontractors. Normally I prefer to handle my own business. But I have a situation that requires your unique skill set.”
“Indeed,” he said, flagging down our homely waitress and ordering a beer. I waited till she was out of earshot before continuing.
“Nor do I refer to your renowned ability with a scalpel.”
“I didn’t think you called to discuss my research into the ocular cavity.”
I took a sip of ale. “You ever do a job on short notice, without much prep work?”
He nodded, unimpressed.
“You ever work in public? Like during a dinner party?”
“Once or twice. It’s not my normal style, but-” He shrugged. “I’ve done everything.”
“You ever do both on the same job?”
“Not yet.”
The waitress returned with Kendrick’s drink and tried to catch his eye, but he was having none of it. She sulked as she walked off, and I took another swig to let the anticipation build. “I need you to break into the Duke of Beaconfield’s house tomorrow night and toss his study. It’l
l be during his Midwinter party, so half the nobility in Rigus will be there. And I only have a passing knowledge of the topography. I can give you a general layout but that’s it.”
“You mean the Smiling Blade.” He chewed at his lip to keep from grinning. “What am I trying to steal?”
“In the desk in his study, beneath a false bottom, you’ll find a secret compartment. I’d like to peruse the contents.” I could see his interest was flagging, so I tossed in a few crumbs. “It’ll be trapped, I’m sure. And of course, the lock will be the best money can buy.”
“How do you know there’s anything there?”
“I’m well informed.”
“An inside job, huh? Why not have your source do it?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of this meeting.”
“If it’s trapped, like you say, they’ll be no way to cover up my presence. He’ll see someone’s rifled through his stuff and find what’s missing soon after.”
“That’s fine. I’d rather he knows it’s gone.”
“One of those, huh?” He worried the tip of his thumb with his teeth. “I don’t usually go in for that sort of thing.”
“It would be a favor. You ask around, you’ll hear I’m a good man to do favors for.”
“That’s the word.” He bit a callus off the top of his finger and spat it on the ground. “Why during the party?”
“It has to be done soon, and the party will be the best chance.”
“There’ll be a lot of people around. I could use a distraction.”
“And as it so happens,” I said, “I’ve arranged one.”
The germ of a grin spread contagion-like across his face as I explained what I had planned for the Blade’s Midwinter soiree. When I was done, he gave the answer I’d expected.
“Sounds like fun.”
I mimicked his amity, wishing I didn’t have to place my survival in the hands of this dilettante. “What’s your fee?”
He was too much the artist to enjoy discussing money. “Usually I get cut in on a percentage, but I assume this isn’t for sale.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Twenty ochres?”
Absurdly low for the job at hand, but I wasn’t about to complain. “There’s one more thing I ought to tell you,” I said. “The man you’re stealing from, the things you’re stealing-if you’re caught, the hoax will be the least of your worries.”
“Good thing I don’t get caught.”
“Good thing,” I responded, hoping he was as skilled as he was confident.
He extended his hand and stood. “I’ve got to get back to the hospital-my shift starts in twenty minutes. I’ll take a look at the place later on this evening. You’ll hear from me the day after tomorrow.”
“Contact me if you need anything.”
“I won’t.” He slipped on his coat. “Who’s that kid you’re here with?”
Kor’s Bellows, he was sharp. I hadn’t realized I’d made any sign. “He’s sort of my ward. I was hoping if I brought him by, you could give him some career advice.”
“On which one?”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Thieving,” he answered confidently.
“Maybe we’d best skip the pep talk.”
He laughed and strutted out. After a moment Wren came over. “That all for the afternoon? Weather’s getting worse.”
“Not quite. I’ve got someone to see, and you’ve got another message to run. I need you to pay a visit to the Blade. Tell the guard at the front gate that I’ll be attending tomorrow’s party.”
“I didn’t know you’d been invited.”
“Neither does the Duke of Beaconfield.”
Wren waited for a follow-up, but when it didn’t come, he headed out. I took his lead a minute or two thereafter.
I was halfway to Tolk Street when I made Crowley’s scarred Mirad following about a block behind me. I didn’t have time for this nonsense. I needed to look in on Cadamost, see what he could tell me about Brightfellow-but then I didn’t imagine Crowley would be sensitive to the complexities of my situation. Slipping the tail wasn’t an option either, my ex-colleague was a tenacious motherfucker and things were getting too busy to leave any loose ends floating around.
So I decided to do something I’d been thinking about since taking a dip in the canal two days prior. Stopping abruptly to let him know I’d seen him, I took a sharp turn down a side alley and headed south toward Kirentown. I moved fast but not too fast, making sure Crowley and his boys didn’t lose me in the dark. They played along, sharp enough to stay on my trail but too blunt to run me down. Fifteen minutes later I was standing beneath the standard of the Blue Dragon, and another second after that I was through the door.
The bar was crowded, and I ignored the unfriendly stares that greeted me. At the front counter the whale was chatting to a customer, but when he saw me he stopped and assumed the vacant pose he adopted whenever we did business. There wasn’t time to do this with any subtlety, so I forced my way to the front.
I leaned in close, conscious of the odor wafting from his excess flesh. “I need to see Ling Chi. Immediately.” He gave no indication that he heard me, weighing his options, keenly aware of Ling Chi’s policy on lenient doormen. “In three years, have I ever wasted the man’s time?”
He nodded toward the door, and I headed through the back and into the antechamber beyond. If the two guards inside were surprised to see me, they didn’t show it-whatever setup the fat man had going to alert them was apparently both silent and effective. I tossed my weapons on the table and went through a quick patdown before being ushered inside to see the man himself.
I still had my suspicions about the authenticity of Ling Chi’s costume, but if he was putting on a show, he could set it up pretty damn quick. His attire was impeccable, from the silvery-white diadem atop his head to the beauty mark that accented his maquillage. He held his hands prayerlike before his chest, the yellow gold of his false fingernails replaced today by a set of green jade. “The joy that stirs in my breast at the unanticipated arrival of my companion is almost too much for my aged heart to bear.”
I bowed low, accepting the rebuke. “It is a blot on my honor that I am forced to intrude upon the tranquility of my mentor, one that I will work tirelessly to expunge.”
He waved away my concern, happy to begin the discussion from a position of strength. “The worries of my beloved friend do credit to his sense of principle. But what need have we of ceremony, we who are closer than brothers? Gleefully do I order the unbarring of any gate that separates us-with all haste I command the doors of my sanctum opened to the twin of my heart.”
“Happiness beyond measure is the lot of your servant, to know that I am granted consideration by one whose word is law and whose hand shelters his children.”
He blinked twice, the shift in his placid countenance impossible to miss. “Shelter…”
“Well does my protector know that innocence is no guard against the wolf, and actions born of amity are like to destroy us.”
“The Celestial Emperor sets upon no man’s back more weight than he might carry.”
“Endless may he reign,” I intoned.
“Endless may he reign.”
“Great men stand before the ocean and command the very waves, while we small folk struggle to avoid the rocks.”
“All are bound by the will of the Emperor,” he said guardedly.
“Spoken truly-and yet where the wise find patterns in the Celestial Order, we lowly creatures struggle to discern the road set before us. I fear, in my haste to be of service to my companion, I have become a target for those who would work against him.”
“That is unfortunate,” he said, his sympathy less than palpable. “And who are these men who seek the injury of my dearest cousin?”
“It saddens me to report the corruption of those tasked with upholding the laws of our land, and of their mistaken crusade against myself and my brother.”
His eyes grew cold as
a late-season frost, and I began to worry I’d made a mistake in coming. “Great as my love is for my ally, I cannot interfere with the representatives of the Throne.”
“The men who follow me are on no sanctioned business of Black House, nor, save one, have been adopted officially into its service.”
“Save one?”
“A deputy of the head of Black House, whose iniquities are manifold and beyond dispute. Perhaps you are familiar with him, an Agent Crowley?”
A snarl played across his stony features. “Our paths have crossed.”
I had hoped as much-Crowley had a particular talent for engendering hatred. “To the shame of my ancestors, there was once a time when the agent and I had dealings. Not knowing of our ties as brothers, Agent Crowley hoped to use my services to bring harm to the house of Ling Chi. Briefly, so briefly did I pretend to aid this duplicitous official that I might gain his trust and knowledge of his movements. But the veneer of a traitor cannot gild the core of a righteous man, and my deception has been discovered.”
Ling Chi beat a steady pulse with his jade fingernails, sifting through the bullshit for nuggets of fact. Crowley’s corruption was deep and long-standing-I could name a dozen criminal enterprises he made money off, and there were probably a hundred more of which I had no idea. The Old Man was aware of some of them, more than he let on to Crowley I’m sure, but the Old Man wasn’t the sort to toss aside a good tool just because it occasionally worked without his direction.
Most important, it fit into Ling Chi’s overarching paranoia, a justified mania born of a lifetime of betrayal and deceit. He could well believe that I’d sell him out to Crowley, only to switch sides once things got too hot. It was the kind of thing he would have done-had done, and would do again.
“The cat is unaware of the workings of its paw?” he asked.
“Who can say what secrets are possessed by the master of Black House? He may know of his lieutenant’s doings-he does not support them.”
The tapping slowed, then stopped altogether. “So dear was my well-being to my brother that he jeopardized his safety and reputation in hopes of thwarting a plot against it. How could I, Ling Chi, be expected to do any less?” He smiled savagely, and I was grateful I was not the target of his anger. “Harmony is to be prized above all other possessions-but should my associate discover that the men who plot our destruction have no ear for the words of reconciliation, he may rest comfortably, knowing that what meager force I can offer is at his disposal.”
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