Mags got to the back of the goldsmith shop down the alley, and across a tiny yard with an outhouse in it and not much else. Good thing there was moonlight; he didn’t have too much trouble picking his way down the alley and across the tiny yard. Teo had a separate entrance from his employer, a staircase going up the outside in the back, and Kriss kept everything about his shop and home in good repair, unlike a lot of the buildings around here. Mags took the staircase, noting that it didn’t even creak, then paused at the door before knocking, and listened hard. There were no windows on this side of the room, but there was a thin line of dim light under the door. And if Teo happened to be entertaining someone else, Mags was going to go this alone.
But Mags heard nothing except a metallic clinking, interrupted with an occasional soft thud, just like someone putting a full pottery mug down on a wooden table. He’s eatin’ soup and drinkin’ a beer, I reckon. That meant Teo was alone. So he knocked.
He heard the scrape of chair or stool legs on a wooden floor, then a couple of footsteps. “Whozere?” Teo said quietly, a note of suspicion in his voice.
“’Sme. Harkon.” Mags spoke just as quietly.
The door opened immediately, and Teo grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him after a quick look around to make sure there was no one else out there.
The light inside was very dim indeed, and not surprising, since Teo was using some form of a dark lantern, one that made the candle stub he was burning dimmer rather than brighter. After a moment, Mags figured out why—this was to save his night-sight. The tiny room didn’t hold much, but it was scrupulously clean, and curtains made of feed-sacks covered both windows, allowing in air while keeping out most of the bugs.
“Ye wouldn’ come here this time’a night without it bein’ important,” Teo said, his back to the door. Mags edged aside so he could get back to his stool; there was just barely enough room in here for Teo’s pallet on the floor, the table cobbled together of odd bits of wood, the stool, and the two of them. Mags leaned back against the door.
“Finish yer supper,” he said. “I kin talk while you eat.”
He explained what had been happening up on the Hill, to the Sisters of Ardana and the Sworn of Betane, and the female shopkeepers down in Haven, while Teo ate and listened with his brows furrowed with concentration. “Well,” Teo said between bites. “Tha’s a mess.”
Mags nodded. “We figgered all of ’em was the same people, but we couldn’t link ’em till tonight. Then we found out ’bout somethin’ what happened t’one of the Court gals when she was a mite.”
When Mags explained what Hawken had told him, Teo’s brows furrowed with more than concentration. “And you reckon these Sethorites got that priest among ’em, an’ he’s coverin’ up thet he wants t’get revenge on this liddle gal by goin’ ater everyone up there?” Teo hazarded, which, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, made Mags rejoice inwardly. He’d picked the right man in Teo Lendsler.
“Well, none of this was happenin’ until thet gal an’ her fambly got here,” Mags pointed out. “An’ Sethorites been here ’bout half a year. Aye, I reckon this all started ’cause’a thet, but there’s gotta be more to it. An’ I bin sniffin’ round the Sethorite Temple fer a good bit, an’ I ain’t got no hint they’s doin’ anythin’, an’ I got no ideer who’s the boss. But I gotta find out, so I’m gonna pull th’ trap-door on whut I got set up, tonight an’ see iffen anythin’s standin’ on it. An’ I need ye with me.”
“This could take a while,” Teo said, worriedly. “Days, mebbe. I got my boss t’think ’bout.”
“Ye trust ’im?” Mags asked.
Teo looked at him startled, with his mug halfway to his mouth. “Serious?”
“Damn serious. Ye trust ’im?”
Teo put his mug down and scratched his head. “Well . . . reckon I do. Ain’t never done me wrong. ’E trusts me t’watch over th’ shop. Why?”
“’Cause we’re gonna tell ’im what I am, an thet ye work fer me.” This was a desperate, maybe stupid ploy, but Mags trusted Teo’s instincts, and as Teo had said, he might need Teo’s full help for several days. Several years ago he would never have revealed himself to a stranger like this unless there was no other choice. Even a year ago he would have hesitated. But he had gotten a good feel for this, and a good sense of the kind of man Teo was, and he thought this was worth taking the chance.
:Besides, you can always make him think it was a dream,: Dallen said cynically.
:Shut up, horse. It’ll have to be pretty damn dire before I meddle with a man’s memory.:
Teo’s eyes bulged for a moment, but he didn’t object.
“Boss still awake?” Mags asked.
“Aye, an’ ’e’ll still be i’shop, doin’ books,” Teo replied.
“Good. Thet means I kin prove it t’him same as I did t’you.” Mags pushed away from the door, and opened it, walking softly down the stairs into the night, until he reached the ground. He heard the creak of the door above him and the soft steps of Teo following.
There was a second door back here, with a little stone sill and a substantial wooden frame, which Teo rapped on. “Mas’ Kriss?” Teo said softly. “’Tis Teo.”
The door opened quickly, and an old man looked out, peering suspiciously at Mags. “What is this? Th’ money’s gone. I take it out of shop every night—”
“We know that, Mas’ Kriss,” Teo said patiently. “This’s somethin’ else. This’s a friend’a mine. We gotta talk t’yer. ’Simportant.”
At this moment, Dallen eased his way into the tiny yard behind the building. In a case of exquisite timing, the moon came from behind a cloud and moonlight struck the Companion and made him as luminous as a horse carved of pearl. This was not something Bren Kriss could ignore.
And in fact, his eyes practically popped out of his head. “Tha’s a Companion!” he rasped. “Whut th’ hell, Teo Lendsler?”
“Aye, tha’s a Companion,” Mags said, speaking up for the first time. “An’ I’m a Herald. An’ Teo’s bin workin’ fer me on th’ side. Tha’s part’a what we gotta talk ter yer about.”
Of all of the reactions Mags had anticipated, the one he got was one he never would have expected.
Bren Kriss began to laugh. A choked snicker at first, as he crammed his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing hard enough to alert the neighbors. Then a wheezing guffaw. Then torrents and gales of helpless, repressed laughter as he slapped both hands against his mouth to hold the sound in, tears pouring down his face.
Mags looked at Teo. Teo shrugged. Dallen move closer and snorted.
Kriss kept laughing.
The old man finally gestured at the two of them, beckoning them in. “I’d invite th’ nag in, but ’e ain’t gonna fit,” the old man managed, still chortling.
Dallen looked at them with ears perked forward in interest, and for once he didn’t take offence at being called a “nag.”. :I assume you won’t need me anymore?:
:Reckon not,: Mags said.
:Right then. Off I go. Call if you need me.: He trotted off into the moonlight, making no more sound on the ground than the moonlight did.
How does he do that?
Mags followed Teo into the building, and once he was inside, Teo closed the door, his face a veritable mask of confusion.
The old man was already sitting in what looked like a very comfortable chair, behind a table and facing the door, still wheezing with laughter, as he indicated they should take two of the stools nearby on the other side of the table. Meanwhile, he snatched up a rag and mopped at his eyes. “Oh, hells. Oh bloody hells. I ain’t had a laugh like that in . . . well, I cain’t ’member. Yer a Herald. An’ iffen yer creepin’ ’round Haven lookin’ like a bullyboy, I reckon yer gotta be workin’ fer Willy th’ Weasel, which also happens t’be Herald Niko. Aye?”
Now both of th
em were staring at the old man in confusion. And then it dawned on Mags what the explanation—and the hilarity—was about. And it was his turn to burst out into guffaws. “Oh—my bloody lord,” he gasped, in between peals of laughter. “You work fer Nikolas! All this time, Teo’s bin workin’ fer me on th’ side, an’ you been workin’ fer Nikolas, an’ not one on the three of us figgered thet out!”
It was hilarious. It was a farce. And things could not have worked out better if he’d tried. No wonder Bren Kriss was one of the few honest moneylenders in this part of the city; he’d have his fingers on the pulse of the entire network of moneylenders and he could tell Nikolas just about everything Nikolas wanted to know about finances in Haven. Where the money went and who it went to and what it was buying was information that could be more valuable than gems to Nikolas.
“Aye, thet I do,” Bren Kriss said, proudly. “Twenny yearn, iffen it’s a day.” He dipped water from a pottery jar on the table into mugs and passed it round to the two of them. Teo’s face had lost its look of confusion, and Mags had finally got himself under control. “So, my lad Teo here’s bin workin’ fer ye on the side like. On’y tonight somethin’ bad’s come up, an’ ye need ’im fer more’n a couple candlemarks, aye?”
“That’s about the tale,” Mags replied, unspeakably grateful that he wasn’t going to have to go through a long explanation, and then persuade Kriss on top of that.
“I don’ need t’ know no more’n thet. An’ if Niko wants me t’know more’n thet, he’ll tell me.” Kriss waved off any other talk. “You jest use that there Mindy-speak an’ tell ’im I’ll need t’borrow some of ’is muscle t’take Teo’s place fer a while, startin’ tonight.”
The look he leveled on Mags made it very clear that he meant right now. Which Mags didn’t mind a bit. After all, a moneylender had money, and thieves go where the money is. It was only fair; if he was going to take Kriss’s protection away, he should make sure there was an alternate in place.
He closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate.
When he opened them again, Teo was looking at him curiously, Kriss with expectation. “’E says,” Mags said ruefully. “Thet ’e cain’t believe it took’t me this long t’find out.”
That sent Kriss off into laughter again, which Mags could scarcely blame him for. He had a very unique laugh, odd enough to finally put a smile on Mags’ chagrined face. “Whut else?” Kriss asked, wiping his eyes again.
“’E’ll send a lad over in a candlemark, a new feller i’ Guard whut ’e’s feelin’ out fer ’nother set’a eyes an’ ears. ’E ain’t a good ’nuff play-actor yet t’ be in shop, but long as ’e keeps ’is mouth shet, should be all right. Reckon thet’ll do?” Mags asked anxiously. “’E kin cover fer Teo t’night, an’ arter thet, Niko’ll figger somethin’.”
“Iffen Niko sends ’im, ’e’ll do,” the old man replied. “Now, off wi’ th’ pair of ye. Whatever ’tis that got ye out this late, gotta be bad ’nuff ye should get to it.”
“Yessir,” Mags said obediently. They got up, opened the door behind them, and left, and heard the lock slide home on the door once they were outside.
“Well,” Mags said, looking at Teo in the moonlight. “Ready t’ see whut we kin see?”
“Aye,” said Teo.
The Sethorite Temple—or at least the area that the Novices referred to as the “Fellowship Hall”—was a nightly gathering place for men like that set of rowdies Mags and Teo had heard spouting off about women.
Had it only been a couple of fortnights ago? It seemed an age.
Since it was open all day and all night, that it was a gathering-point was hardly unexpected. When you were a poor working man, if you had a family, they were all crowded into a single room and if you were single, you shared a room with at least three others; here at least you had space, and you were out of the weather. When you were a poor working man, you took every bit of free food you could get. Here there was free heavily watered, sour wine—though it was more like faintly wine-flavored water—and there was bread and drippings, also free. As much as you cared to eat and drink; no one seemed to be keeping track of how much anyone took.
They entered the Fellowship Hall, which looked not unlike the Dining Hall at the Collegium, except with stone walls instead of wood. Like the Dining Hall, it was packed with wooden benches and trestle tables, with the food and drink being served at the back. Mags got some of both, as did Teo, and he led his friend to one of the tables at the front of the room, where Novices sat, mingling with men who were known to them. Mags had been setting this up for sennights now, and he was ready to see what he could catch with the right bait.
“Ah, Pakler,” said one of the Novices. “We didn’t see you today. Or indeed, for several days.”
“Tha’s cause I got work, sor,” Mags said, with a little duck of his head and tugging on his hair since he didn’t have a hat to doff. “I got me some connections up to Palace, an I bin’ doin’ a sight’uv fetchin’ an’ carryin’.”
Well, that got the interest, not only of the Novice that had recognized him, but two more down the table. “Indeed?” the Novice said smoothly. “Why the need for extra porters up at the Palace? I would have thought they would have more than enough servants.”
Mags shrugged. “Highborn movin’ out,” he said. “Dunno why. Too many of ’em fer them up-nosed servants uv their’n t’do all the totin’, so they hired from town.” He took a bite of the bread—which he suspected was half flour and half sawdust—and washed it down with the sour watered wine. “M’second cousin on Pa’s side’s a potboy i’ one uv th’ kitchens. ’E put me wise to’t t’when they was takin’ lads at th’ gate. I wuz there, afore dawn, you bet!”
It was true enough. There had been temporary hiring at the front gate for people to load up the belongings of the courtiers that were fleeing the Poison Pen. Of course, the one place no thief in his right mind would attempt would be the Palace in broad daylight, with Heralds and Companions all over, so it was a good bet only the honest were applying for the work.
“And what have you been seeing of the Palace?” the Novice asked smoothly, with just the right amount of indifference. Oh, he’s good.
“They got me hoppin’ all over,” Mags asserted, boastfully. “T’other lads they got, they ain’t pushin’ it like I be. I mean ter get all the work there is up there. I be in ever’ place but where the Royals be, afore day’s over.” Then he made a face. “Work ain’t bad, ’cept fer the wimmen. Them highborn wimmen, they’s needin’ some proper men t’show’em their place, I reckon. Niver seen sech a lotta yammerin’ hens i’ m’life. Aye, Teo?”
Teo grunted, and continued slowly eating his bread.
“Got Teo up there yestiday, but ’e left it.”
“Cain’t abide pushy bitches,” Teo muttered.
“Fascinating,” said the Novice, and turned to the other two. They got their hooded heads together for as long as it took Mags and Teo to finish their first pieces of bread and start on a second. Then one of the Novices got up and left, while the first one turned back to Mags and Teo and—with a much friendlier demeanor—engaged them in a conversation about the highborn women they had encountered.
Mags did the best performance he could manage of a fellow who was just bright enough—and just enough in need of money—to put up silently with slightly hysterical highborn women who were fussing all over their belongings and making impossible demands of the porters. But of course, a true Sethorite—which he was supposed to be, after all—would have been seething inside at how the women were ordering him about, when he should have been telling them to sit down, shut up, and it’ll get done when it gets done. So he put in some asides about that, and about how the weak-spined highborn should be doing more to teach their women their proper place.
And, of course, as the Novice drew him out further, he waxed eloquent on how vain and empty-headed they were, how flighty, how
hysterical, how they all seemed to be in fear of some unnamed thing haunting the Palace. He even named a couple of names, knowing that would only help him to be more convincing.
He and Teo had finished their bread and were drinking the last of their wine when the missing Novice returned. But instead of sitting down, he gestured to Mags. “We believe, Brother Pakler, that you may be ready for the next stage in your service to Sethor. Will you come with me?”
Mags glanced over at Teo. The Novice followed his glance, and smiled sympathetically. “Alas, Brother Teo. We have room only for one recruit at this time. Would you care to wait for Brother Pakler here, or in the Sanctuary?”
“Sanct’ary,” grunted Teo. “But might come back here iffen it takes too long.”
The Novice actually chuckled. “There is only so long that a red-blooded man can spend on his knees, indeed. Come, Brother Pakler.”
Mags followed the Novice deeper into the Temple, past the Sanctuary, down a long corridor with a lot of little closed doors on it, and to a small, bare stone room, where one of the priests waited, sitting behind a table. Not a high ranking one, which was a little disappointing, but Mags covered his disappointment easily. There was no place to sit, so he stood, as the Novice closed the door to the room and stood a little aside. Once again, he bobbed his head, a bit deeper this time, and tugged the front of his hair. “Sor,” he said, humbly. “Ye reckon Sethor’s gotta use fer me?”
“Aye, Brother Pakler, the Great God has, this very night.” The priest regarded him steadily, out of deceptively mild eyes. “There are women in this town, stealing the bread from the mouths of men and their families.”
“Aye, sor, there are,” Mags agreed resentfully. “Not me, s’much,” he added. “Ain’t no fool bitch kin lift an’ tote like a man. But plenny other stuff they be doin’ thet a man should.”
“It is the mission of certain chosen among the followers of the Great God to deliver unto them proper chastisement, so that they will give over their vainglory and the aping of their betters, and return to the proper place of women as helpmeets and followers,” the priest continued. “Tonight, we have chosen you for a trial of your faith in the deliverance of that justice to one such harlot. Should you successfully complete your mission, you will be rewarded, and not only by the Grace of Sethor, but in silver.” Mags started, and the priest smiled at his reaction. “And should you complete this mission well, there will be greater things in store for you.”
Closer to the Chest Page 32