The lieutenant motioned to Sal. “I found this one skulking through an alley. Says he has business with his lordship. My boys and I thought we’d come along to make certain he got to where he was going safe and sound.”
“Mighty kind of you, that was,” said the guard on the left. “Only, nobody said nothing to us about no nighttime visitors. So you and your boys can escort him elsewhere, or go bugger yourselves with them poleaxes, either will do fine.”
This seemed to upset the lieutenant. His amiability of moments before seemed to vanish in an instant.
“Listen here, you sod-sucking fops. I won’t be put off by a couple of hired hands. You see this?” the lieutenant said, pounding his chest where the magistrate’s seal was sewn onto his surcoat. “I have the authority to arrest the pair of you. You’ll be tried on a count of obstruction, but only after you’ve spent a fortnight in the under-cells.”
The four other steel caps readied themselves should a fight break out. The two in the rear stepped up and leveled their poleaxes; the two holding Sal released him and reached for their swords .
Tension was building in the air, so thick it was palpable.
The guards stood their ground, seemingly unintimidated by the steel caps’ posturing.
The lieutenant turned to his men, and Sal knew the time was almost upon him—he would have one chance. He put a hand in his jerkin pocket.
“Easy, boys, there is no need for a fight here.”
As the lieutenant spoke, Sal pulled the small glass orb out of his pocket. He held the flasher tight, wound his arm back, aimed, released, and closed his eyes.
“There’s no reason we should need to—” The lieutenant was cut short.
Sal had aimed the flasher at the chest of the lieutenant, right at the axe-and-moon sigil. He’d expected to hear a crack, or snap, or some sort of explosion, yet all he heard was a soft thump of glass on cloth, then the tink, tink, tink of the orb bouncing on cobblestones.
The lieutenant let out a curse, and Sal opened his eyes. The lieutenant looked furious, the guards confused.
Sal braced himself for an axe blow, but no such blow came. He glanced at the ground and saw that the orb was rolling in his direction. Without giving it another thought, he leaped at the orb and closed his eyes. He felt as much as heard the crunch of glass underfoot.
Pained shouts sounded all around him. Even through closed eyes, Sal saw the flash of light. He felt slightly dazed and more than a little nauseated, but there was no time to dally.
Sal opened his eyes. Nearly all the others had dropped to their hands and knees or writhed on the ground. Only the lieutenant remained upright.
The lieutenant’s eyes were unfocused. He looked unsteady, wobbling as he tried to keep his feet.
Sal took a step back, fearing the lieutenant would attack, but he looked closer to spewing sick than giving chase.
Without another moment of hesitation, Sal ran and didn’t look back until he reached the Bridge of the Lady.
II
The Reading
For it is what we hold sacred that unites us. Let life provide the answer,
for life is the first and final of the sacred truths.
—Bethelwold the Great
Cut their fucking throats and be done with it.
—Vallachenka Smirnichezk
7
Recruited
Interlude, Four Months Earlier
“ W hat is this place?” Sal said.
“My safe house,” Anton said. “Comes in handy when I need a place to lay low.”
“Safe house,” Sal scoffed. “Smells like a stable. There’s not even a window, for Lady’s sake.”
“Thinks he’s a big man now he runs his own crew, does he?” Anton said. “Whatever happened to that scrawny kid from the Shoe? I seem to recall he moaned less.”
“Like you said, I have a crew now.”
“Yeah, right, your own crew,” Anton said derisively. “Three strong now, isn’t it?”
“We’re a growing enterprise. These are early times.”
“And what is it you call yourselves now? The Shadow Guild, is it?”
Sal shrugged to hide the twinge of embarrassment. “Bartley’s idea.”
“Bartholomew Shoaly,” Anton said, nodding knowingly. “A big mouth on that one. Don’t know what you see in him. ”
“They all ask me the same of you,” Sal said with a smirk.
Anton smiled in return. Despite his sharp, angular features, the smile was warm, almost brotherly. “And you tell them what, that you see greatness?”
“A great disappointment is more like. You’ve always claimed to be going places, and look at you,” Sal said, flicking Anton’s chin. “You’re still squatting here in Dijvois just like the rest of us. No farther up the ladder than the day we met.”
Anton snapped a hand around Sal’s wrist and twisted his arm.
Sal laughed and tried to fight out of the grip, but Anton was far too strong. The bigger man twisted until Sal dropped to his knees and called out for mercy, laughing all the while.
Anton smiled, held out a hand, and helped Sal to his feet.
“Look, kid,” Anton said, once Sal had gotten up. “There’s a job, a big one, and I’ve been asked to recruit the players.”
“I see. And who’ve you got so far?”
“The usual, Vallachenka, Odie, Dellan—”
Sal made a noise of disgust.
“You’ve got a problem with Dellan?”
“Seems to me he’s the one with the problem. Those eyes follow me everywhere I go. Looks at me like he’s a wolf and I’m his bloody quarry.”
“Well, nothing I can do there, he was requested.”
“Requested?” Sal said. “Thought you said this was your job. Who’s really running this thing?”
“Luca Vrana.”
“Vrana? Another one?”
“Sure, Luca’s a bit off.” Anton winked. “But he’s an earner, and a well-connected one at that.”
“You’re sure this is a good idea, after what happened the last time, you know, with Fab—”
“Think I’d ever bloody forget about that?” Anton snapped, a look of something like regret in his eyes.
“But you think we can trust Luca?” Sal asked nervously, not wanting to press too far.
“As far as I’d trust a daggermouth. ”
“Far enough to earn a krom?”
“Precisely,” Anton said. “Old Luca’s a dangerous one, but I’ll let him fill my plate before I cut him loose.”
“And Luca, it was him asked for me by name?”
“Sure was,” said Anton, “but don’t let that go filling your head. Only reason Luca knows who you are is because of me.”
“And what of my crew?”
“The Shadow Guild,” Anton said, hunching his shoulders and wiggling his fingers. “So far as I’m concerned, Vincenzo is welcome on any job.”
Sal swallowed. He knew it would come to this, it often did. “Vinny, right, and what about Bartley?”
Anton sighed. “Like I said, this is a big job. We’re going to need a tight crew.”
“Bartley is in my crew.”
“This isn’t your crew, kid. This is Luca’s crew, and Luca doesn’t allow for mistakes. Trust me on that. You remember Fabian?”
Sal arched an eyebrow. He would never forget Fabian.
“Listen,” Anton said, “I want you on this one. There’s a bonus in it for you too, fifty krom.”
“Fifty—” Sal shook his head. “No, it’s all or none. You want me, you’re getting Vinny and Bartley too.”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
“I heard you,” Sal said, somewhat petulantly, “fifty krom, but I thought you said this was a big job? I’ll take my chances with a cut from the share. My crew will want twenty-five points of the whole.”
Anton shook his head, his smile cocky, his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t listening. The fifty gold is a bonus, just for you. We can discuss point
-shares once you learn what the job is, but I don’t see any reason your crew can’t walk away with fifteen of the whole.”
“Twenty,” Sal said.
“Light’s name, you haggle like a Yahdrish fishwife. I said we’ll talk point-shares later.”
“This bonus,” Sal said. “Fifty krom, on top of the point-share? That’s a healthy chunk of coin, for a bonus. What’s it really for?”
“Call it a side job. I have a backer, needs something nabbed. Thing is, I want to keep this one on a need-to-know. You see? Only want to cut the shares as low as needs be.”
“Right, then. Well, before we discuss this any further, I want to be certain we are clear. You get me, you get my whole crew.”
“Bloody hell,” Anton cursed. “There’s that Yahdrish fishwife showing her ugly face again. Bartholomew Shoaly is rubbing off on you, I swear it. That’s just what they do.”
“Well?”
“Fine, the whole crew. The whole fucking Shadow Guild. But if that Yahdrish bungles this one, it’s your head Luca’s gonna take, mark my words.”
“Trust me. You won’t regret it,” Sal said. “Now about that job?”
Anton arched an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re certain you want to know?”
Sal shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. My crew can handle anything.”
“Is that so? The Shadow Guild, right?”
Sal nodded. “It’s why you’ll be cutting us twenty-five points off the whole.”
“Will we, now?”
“That you will,” Sal said confidently. “But tell me, then, where is this job you’re so keen to have us on?”
Anton cleared his throat and bounced his eyebrows. Then he spoke three words that lit up Sal’s ears like braziers.
“The High Keep.”
8
Red Smile
S al woke with a pounding headache. He’d slept on the floor among the rushes, using his cloak as a makeshift pillow.
Bartley still slept, snoring facedown on his straw-stuffed mattress.
Sal stretched and looked out the window. The sun was up, and the day was bright. Despite the pleasantness of the weather, Sal felt as though there were gray clouds overhead. His encounter with the City Watch the night before had his stomach twisted in knots. Panic had made a fool of him.
He only hoped he never saw the burn-scarred face of that steel cap lieutenant again.
Bartley stirred awake with a snort, followed by a sharp inhalation. He stretched, smacked his lips, and looked quizzically at Sal.
“Been up long?” Bartley asked.
“A turn or two.”
“Smoked a cap yet?”
Sal shook his head.
“Get that pipe out, and might be we can do a bit of burning,” said Bartley with a coy smile.
Sal retrieved the ebony box that Bartley used to store his pipe and skeev. He ran his fingers over the carved relief of the Dahuaneze goddess, thinking of the Lady White. When he extended the box to Bartley, his friend waved him off.
“You’re getting this for free. So I’ll let you do the loading.”
Sal sighed, opened the box, and began to crumble the skeev into the pipe.
Once they’d smoked a full cap, Sal was no longer worried about the City Watch. He smiled. There was only one thing on his mind: the daughter of Lord Hugo, the woman with the sapphire earrings, Sal’s new mark—Lilliana Bastian.
“What’s on your mind?” Bartley asked, smirking stupidly.
“New job,” Sal said.
“What’s this?” Bartley said, ears perking up like a hound with the scent of his quarry.
Sal shook his head. “Nothing you want any part in.”
“And what gives you the right to determine that?”
“Because this job is for Luca Vrana.”
Bartley’s eyes went wide.
“Didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Sal said with a shrug.
“And what, you’re not going to bring me and Vinny in on the score?”
“What?” Sal asked, baffled by Bartley’s wounded tone.
“Oh, I see. So you did ask Vinny, just thought you’d leave me out of it?”
“Bartley, take a breath, mate.”
“You take a breath, mate,” Bartley said. “And when you’ve done, go and bugger yourself. So much for the bloody Shadow Guild.”
“You go too far,” Sal said, standing. “Now look, I didn’t ask Vinny to join this one either. Did you not hear what I said? The bloody job’s with Luca Vrana. You don’t want any part in that, I can guarantee it.”
“I’ve some payments coming up. Loans I took out and coin I spent on your behalf, mind you. I need the scratch.”
“Right. Well, we could all go for a bit of extra coin. Especially when you consider Luca has yet to pay us for the last job. Still, seems to me you must have forgotten what happened at the High Keep.”
“Look at it this way,” Bartley said. “My coin purse is so thin, were it my stomach, you’d see my ribs through my bloody shirt. Besides, I like my thumbs; hows about you help me keep them?”
“I’ll not recommend you to Luca. Not after last time.”
Bartley glared. “I don’t need you to set up another meeting, that’s been handled. Luca has seen me work. If he wants me on this job, there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”
“So you haven’t forgotten about the High Keep job?” Sal said. “I guess you’re right. He’ll probably come calling. It was quite the impression you made on Luca, what with missing your mark and then getting shot and all.”
Bartley spat, his arms crossed.
“The answer is no, mate,” Sal said. “Besides, with Luca looking for a rat, you want to stay as far from this one as you can.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Bartley snapped. “You suggesting I’m the bloody rat?”
“Whoa, Bart, I never—look, take it easy. All I’m saying is that if Luca is looking for a rat, he’s not safe for any of us to be around. Lady’s sake, you heard about Pavalo?”
“Pavalo Picarri, the ward-smith?”
“Aye, Luca’s ward-smith.”
“What of him?”
“Dead,” Sal said. “Murdered the night before End.”
“Murdered?”
“Nabu seemed to think it so.”
“And you think Luca?” Bartley asked.
“He’s a likely suspect. Didn’t give much away when I asked him about it, but Luca has always been a difficult read.”
“You think he will still try and do us? I mean, if Luca already took care of Pavalo, might be he was the rat, right?”
“Honestly, at this point”—Sal shrugged—“live or die, this is the last job I do for Luca Vrana.”
“Whatever you say,” Bartley grumbled. He took a deep breath, lifted his arms above his head, and yawned. “Listen, Vinny wants us to meet him downstairs, half an hour after sunup.”
“Sun was up a full hour before we smoked that cap,” Sal said with a grin.
Bartley scrambled to his feet.
“What’s the matter?” Sal asked.
“We’re late.”
“Nothing to fret over. I mean, it’s only Vinny, yeah?”
“Not today it’s not.”
“Oh, is someone with him?”
“You’ll see when we get down there,” Bartley said cryptically, opening the bedroom door and stepping out.
As Sal followed Bartley out of the room and moved toward the stairs, he picked up the scent of fresh meadowsweet. Before long the winter snows would be there, and the smell of fresh flowers in the rushes would be a distant memory.
The taproom was just short of empty. Those who broke their fast at the Hog Snout tended to do it early. Vinny was seated, alone except for the buxom barmaid who stood beside his table.
“Morning, Bessy,” Bartley said, rather sheepishly.
The barmaid coyly stretched, in a way that showed off her ample cleavage. She yawned, then ran a hand through her
long red curls before she spoke. “I suppose it is a nice morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and there is a healthy crop of handsome young men just come strolling through my premises.”
Bartley blushed a shade as red as Bessy’s curls.
“If only Bartley ever left,” Sal said, winking at the blushing Yahdrish.
“I never minded,” said Bessy. “Wouldn’t mind seeing him around more neither.”
“Is that so?” said Sal, taking a seat across from Vinny. “Well, I suppose that makes one of us. As for me, I’d rather see food that his Yahdrish mug. I’ll take a cup of the house ale, three eggs any way I can get them, a blood sausage, and some of those potatoes fried in oil. If you have some of that leftover gravy to smother on top of it all like last time, I’d much appreciate it. ”
“Ain’t nothing I can’t handle,” said Bessy with a wink. “Just so happens I have some gravy left over from last night. And how about you, sweetie?”
Bartley blushed a deeper shade of red. “The same for me, if there’s enough gravy to go round.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Bessy said, leaning close to Bartley and making a suggestive gesture with her hand. “Even if we run short, I’ve never had a problem whipping up a bit of gravy.”
Vinny sputtered, spraying beer back into his clay mug, but Bessy went on as though she’d not noticed. “Mayhap we’re low on eggs, but seeing how the boy can always fetch me more eggs, that don’t qualify as much of a concern. You gents relax, and you’ll be supping before you know it.”
“Is that why you wanted to get down here so fast?” Sal asked Bartley as the barmaid walked out of earshot.
“That wench?” Vinny said. “Sacrull’s hell, Bartley. You should have been concerned about making me wait. Although I reckon the thought of kindling a tinderbox without paying first has your blood in a boil. This’ll be a first for you, will it not?”
“Wasn’t in a hurry over some wench,” Bartley said, brow wrinkling. “I’m here for the job.”
“But of course the only thing a Yahdrish considers before a woman’s snatch is his own coin purse,” Vinny said, chuckling.
The Hand That Takes Page 9