Among Thieves: A Tale of the Kin

by Douglas Hulick

  I sat up straighter. Two days? Shit. Mendross hadn’t mentioned the call had come yesterday. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. I slid a seed into my mouth.

  “I was in the middle of another dodge when I got word,” I said. “I didn’t realize you’d been waiting.”

  “Way I hear it, you were already done with the smuggler when you got word.”

  I blinked. How the hell did Nicco know about Athel? I’d gone to a lot of trouble to keep that job hush.

  Oh. Of course.

  “Shatters,” I said.

  “That Agonyman had a few things to say about you,” said Nicco, still looking out the window. “None of them good.”

  “That sadistic bastard is just mad because I . . .”

  Nicco held up his meaty hand. “I don’t give a crap about your side work, Drothe. As long as I get my cut, I’m happy. What I do give a crap about is my people not doing their job.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out that “people” meant me. “Look,” I said, “I’m late and I apologize. Sincerely. I didn’t know you’d been waiting—”

  Nicco spun toward me. “Screw the waiting!” he bellowed. “I shouldn’t have needed to call you in, Drothe. If you’d been doing your job, instead of dicking around after relics, I’d have heard about Ten Ways two days ago. As it is, I’ve been having to get word from the street. I shouldn’t have to listen to the fucking street, Drothe—that’s what I pay you to do.”

  “Ten Ways?” I said. I sucked on the seed in my mouth and ran through everything Mendross had told me about the cordon earlier, then through everything I’d heard about it in the last two months. Nothing important surfaced. “Why the hell are you worried about what’s happening in Ten Ways?”

  “The street,” said Rambles.

  I looked over at him. “Was I talking to you?”

  Rambles smiled coolly. “The street says someone’s planning on making a move against Nicco down in Ten Ways.”

  “ ‘The street’?” I said. “What the hell do you know about listening to the street?”

  “I have ears,” said Rambles.

  “Yeah, I can see them from here. Nice jingle.”

  “Word is it’s serious.”

  “Serious,” I said. “All right. Then answer me a couple of questions, O Sage of the Streets. Did you run this by anyone else? Maybe another Nose, or someone in the cordon? Did you drag your ass down there and check it yourself? Did you stop to consider this might just be a rumor? Or did you come running the moment you heard it?”

  Rambles pushed himself away from the wall. “I don’t need a Nose to tell me how to work the street!” he snarled.

  “Of course you don’t,” I said. I turned back to Nicco. “He’s full of crap.”

  “Why?” said Rambles. “Because you don’t agree with me?”

  I made a show of crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. The light from the window was playing hell with my exhausted eyes, and I could feel a nasty headache coming on, but I smiled benignly nonetheless.

  “Answer him,” said Nicco.

  “Why?” I said. “If Rambles wants to believe everything he hears on the street, that’s his business. I don’t give free lessons to the help.”

  Nicco took a step. The floor creaked beneath him. “I said, answer him.”

  I bit down hard on the ahrami in my mouth. The crack of the seed was audible in the room.

  “Listen,” I said, starting to get annoyed. I’d been dragged in here for this? “This is bullshit. One person gets leaned on, and suddenly it’s a move against you? Think about it. This is how Ten Ways works. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool. If Rambles wants to—”

  For a big man, Nicco could move fast. I didn’t have time to flinch before he’d taken a step and backhanded me across the face.

  The blow sent me halfway out of my chair and filled my head with a ringing sound. For a moment, my cheek was numb—then the pain made its way inside. I felt hands grab my shoulders and haul me back into the chair. At first I thought it was Nicco, but when I saw him standing in front of me, I realized the two Arms at the door hadn’t stayed in the room for show. They were behind me, leaning down on my shoulders, holding me in place.

  I worked my jaw, tasted blood. I could feel the liquid starting to slip out of my mouth and into my beard. My cheek felt half the size of my face. If that weren’t enough, the headache that had been threatening moments ago was now in full, agonizing bloom.

  Out of habit, my hand reached for the herb wallet at my belt. There would be painkillers there—waxed packets full of powders and leaves and unguents, maybe a little Saint’s Balm for my cheek. . . .

  One of the Arms stopped me before I could reach it.

  “Careful,” said Nicco. He was rubbing the hand that had hit me. “Be careful here, Drothe.” He leaned forward, putting his face close to mine. I noticed he had had onions with breakfast. “You know why you got that?”

  I nodded and slowly retrieved my hand.

  “Because you agree with Rambles?” I said.

  “In part. And?”

  “And because I indirectly called you a fool?”

  Nicco’s fist drove into my stomach. I started to double over, but the Arms hauled back on my shoulders, arresting the movement. I sat there, gulping for air, my body trying to convulse in on itself. I decided that if I threw up, I was going to aim for Nicco’s shoes.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Nicco, straightening up. “And?”

  He waited while I gasped and gagged. Finally, when I could move enough air to talk, I said, “And because I didn’t answer him the first time you told me to.”

  “The first two times I told you,” corrected Nicco. “You don’t want to go for three.”

  I nodded weakly and took a deep, ragged breath. There was definitely something going on here—Nicco might be a violent bastard, but he didn’t usually knock me around for arguing with him. Something was bothering him.

  I blinked and tried to clear my head. Between the pain and my lack of sleep, I wasn’t exactly putting the pieces together as well as I might.

  “It’s all about how Ten Ways works,” I said, trying to buy some time. My voice came out far steadier than I expected. I credited the ahrami. “The place is a hole. The cordon’s full of thugs and petty bosses. Almost every one of them is making a move at some time or another. It’s how a person establishes himself, and it’s how you get out. If you make enough things happen, or pull off a big enough dodge, you can use it to leverage your way into better things.

  “That’s what’s happening here,” I said. “Someone’s trying to look tough by seeing how far he can push you in the cordon. We’re not exactly big in Ten Ways, so we’re a prime target. Send in a couple of Cutters, have them hand out some bruises, maybe make a corpse or two, and the Kin down there will get the message.”

  “I already sent people,” snarled Nicco.

  “Good,” I said.

  “They didn’t come back.”

  “Oh.”

  Nicco walked over and sat down behind his desk. “Tell him,” he said to Rambles.

  “Three Cutters went in,” said Rambles. “None came out. That was two days ago. Last night we sent two Arms in with four more Cutters. One of the Arms staggered out this morning, cut up. He died an hour later.”

  I whistled softly. The Cutters I could almost see. They were decent enforcers, but you could find freelance toughs who were just as good if you looked. Arms, though, were another matter. They were the best the Kin had to offer, the select muscle in an organization. For a boss like Nicco to lose two Arms and twice as many Cutters in a pissant cordon like Ten Ways wasn’t just a bad sign—it was downright embarrassing.

  Now I understood why Nicco wasn’t happy. He needed to pay back whoever was responsible, fast, or risk losing face among the Kin. Lose enough, and he might find other Upright Men sniffing around his turf, deciding which portions they could carve off for themselves. Top dogs didn’t stay on top in this business
if they let the smaller dogs get away with pissing on them.

  “I hadn’t heard any of this yet,” I said, “which is good.” Both men stared at me. “Not hearing anything means our people have been able to keep it quiet. That gives us some breathing room.”

  “I don’t give a crap about ‘breathing room,’ ” said Nicco. “If people are complaining on the street, then someone is talking.” He scowled at Rambles. “That’s not supposed to be happening.”

  Rambles shrugged, and suddenly I understood. Rambles had been put in charge of Ten Ways. I almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather see consigned to that gutter of a territory.

  Nicco looked over at me. “What the fuck are you grinning at?”

  “Uh . . . ” I said.

  “You walk in two days late, you argue, you give me information I needed to know yesterday, and then you sit there smiling?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  I did.

  Nicco smeared a scrap of bread through the drippings on the plate and put it in his mouth. “I’ll keep this short,” he said, his mouth working around the bread. He pointed at Rambles. “I want the bastards behind this to pay—hard. No one fucks with me, no matter where they are. You remind those bastards in Ten Ways of that.”

  Rambles considered for a moment. “How far do you want me to go?”

  “As far as you need to. But,” Nicco said, pausing to swallow, “I don’t want the whole damn cordon coming down around my ears, got it?”

  Rambles seemed mildly disappointed, but he nodded, anyhow.

  I nodded as well. Nicco was being smart. Ten Ways may be a hellhole, but it was a proud hellhole. Outside bosses were barely tolerated, and then usually at the fringes. Hell, even the city guard garrisoned the men stationed there outside the cordon. If Rambles went in looking for serious trouble, he’d end up with most of the Kin in Ten Ways lining up against him in a matter of days.

  “Good,” said Nicco. He flicked his fingers at Rambles. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

  Rambles bowed slightly in Nicco’s direction, smirked at me, and left. Since the Arms were still looming behind me, I took the hint and stayed.

  Nicco took a sip of whatever was left in his cup, made a face, and set it aside. “You’re going, too.”

  I sat up straighter. “What?”

  “To Ten Ways. You’re going in.”

  Shit. That was what I’d been afraid of. I’d spent five years in that pit before finally clawing my way out. The climb hadn’t been easy or pretty, and I’d sworn I wouldn’t go back. Besides, if I was busy in there, I wouldn’t be able to track Ioclaudia or my relic out here.

  I wet my lips and thought fast.

  “I don’t know if I’m the best person for this job,” I said. “I have history down there.”

  “I figured that would help—you know the cordon.”

  “Knew it,” I said. “That was a long time ago. And if anyone does remember me, they’re as likely to stab me as talk to me. I didn’t leave a lot of friends in my wake when I left.”

  “So take some Cutters in with you.”

  “You know that’s not how I work,” I said. I ran a hand through my beard. “Dammit, Nicco, I—”

  Nicco snapped his fingers. Hands clamped down on my shoulders. The Arms behind me bore down so hard, I thought they were going to push me through the chair. I winced and tried to look unfazed. I doubted I fooled anyone.

  Nicco leaned back in his chair and examined his fingers. “Are we having another disagreement, Drothe?”

  “No,” I said. “I just—”

  “I said, are we having a disagreement?”

  The Arms put their full weight into it. I heard something creak dangerously. Probably the chair, but I could have sworn it was my spine.

  “No,” I gasped. “Absolutely not!”

  “Good.” Nicco gave a nod, and the pressure went away. “Leave.”

  The two Arms walked out of the room and closed the door behind them. Nicco waited for the sound of their shoes on the stairs to fade before he spoke.

  “You’re lucky I like you, Drothe.”

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing at my shoulders. Everything still seemed to be where it belonged. “Lucky.”

  “Damn it, Drothe!” Nicco pointed past me to where the Arms had been. “I should have had them beat the living crap out of you. What the hell were you thinking? Arguing with me in front of them, in front of Rambles? Shit.” He sat back in his chair and glared at me. “Sometimes I think I give you too much freedom, even for a Nose. You forget your place.”

  “Believe me,” I said. “I never forget my place.”

  “Don’t give me lip, Drothe. Not right now.”

  I held up my hands. “I get it—no squabbles in front of the help.” Or at all, at the moment. Even my tired brain could read that one. Right now, I needed to play along. “So what do you want me to do in Ten Ways?”

  “I want you to find out what the hell’s going on.”

  I frowned. I had expected to be told to shadow Rambles’s efforts and report back. “Isn’t that Rambles’s job? He’s in charge down there now.”

  “Rambles can kick ass and take names with the best of them, but he’ll miss things. You won’t—that’s why I want you Nosing down there. And I don’t want you sharing what you find with anyone but me.”

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it: I want to compare what you say to what he says.”

  Ah. He didn’t trust either of us. Wonderful.

  I scratched at my beard. It was still damp with blood. “Rambles won’t like my nosing around down there if he’s not in the loop.” Actually, he wouldn’t like my nosing around there even if he was in the loop, but that was beside the point.

  “Tough shit for him,” said Nicco. He got up and walked back over to the window. “He doesn’t need to know everything to do his part of the job.”

  I looked up at that. “He doesn’t know everything now, does he?” I said. “You have something else.”

  Nicco didn’t look at me. Instead, he ran his finger along the window frame, holding it up to study the dust it had collected. “The Arm who made it out of Ten Ways lived long enough to give us two names. One of them was ‘Fedim.’ ”

  I shook my head. “Don’t know it.”

  “He’s the Dealer who’s been complaining about protection.” Nicco blew the dust off his fingertip. “Things are bad enough in Ten Ways without some cut-rate fence mouthing off. It makes me look bad. Talk to him, find out what he knows. Then dust him.”

  I grimaced but didn’t argue.

  “And the other name?” I said.

  Nicco stared at his finger so long, I thought he wasn’t going to tell me. Then he rubbed it with his thumb and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.

  “Kells,” he said.

  If I hadn’t had a chair beneath me, I would have been on the floor. As it was, I nearly grabbed the sides for support, anyhow.

  “Kells?” I said. Well, shit.

  Chapter Five

  I stepped out onto the street in a daze. Kells? In Ten Ways?

  Hell. This was all I needed. Having Kells’s name turn up where Nicco was concerned was like trying to put out a fire with naphtha.

  I started walking.

  Back in the day, before the feud, before the countless border fights, before they had both become Upright Men, Nicco and Kells had been tight. They had run under the same boss, worked the same cordon, shared in the same dodges—right up to the point where they threw down their old boss, Rigga, and carved up her territory. Turns out that was the worst thing they could have done to each other.

  Each side had a story about how it went bad, of course. Nicco’s centered around respect and dishonesty: He claimed Kells had conned him out of the richest portions of Rigga’s turf, even though Nicco had ended up with the bigger share of territory. Worse, he said, Kells had used the money to lure his be
st people away after the split. Nicco being Nicco, he’d gone for the throat.

  As for Kells, the argument went that he hadn’t bought Nicco’s people—he’d just offered them a better deal. Instead of relying on fear and fists to keep his organization running, Kells used careful planning and cunning to make sure things ran smoothly. That was why his smaller territory had done better, and why people had left Nicco after Rigga’s organization broke up. When Nicco had gone after Kells, it looked like spite.

  Both arguments made sense for the men involved, and I expect each tale had a degree of truth to it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a Nose, it’s that every story changes with the person telling it, no matter how close the person thinks he’s holding to the truth. And even though I tended to lean toward the version of the story that favored Kells, the fact of the matter was that Nicco looked to be the wronged party this time around. If Kells was in Ten Ways, and he could be linked to what had happened to Nicco’s people . . .

  I shook my head. It didn’t make sense. Dusting six of Nicco’s people out of the blue, in Nicco’s own territory, wasn’t Kells’s style. If it had been the other way around, I could see it, but not like this. Kells was too subtle for this kind of a play. At least, he always had been up until now.

  But if there was a link, or even the hint of one, Nicco would be on it. He’d go after Kells hard. And that would put me in the middle of it, in Ten Ways, in the fighting.

  I groaned. Maybe it was best that Nicco was sending me in there to figure it out after all. Maybe I could even avert the looming disaster. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  I shambled the rest of the way home in the early-afternoon light and collapsed into a dreamless sleep. I awoke sometime after midnight, chewed a seed, and dragged myself out into the streets long enough to scare up a late meal. I returned and slept some more.

  Late-morning sunlight was pushing its way in past the edges of my room’s shutters when I woke again. Someone was knocking on my door.

  I lay in bed for a moment, hoping the caller would think I was out.

  He kept knocking.

  Hell, might as well get up. I had to piss, anyhow.