The Thief-Taker's Apprentice (19 page)

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Authors: Stephen Deas

BOOK: The Thief-Taker's Apprentice
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22
COURTING DANGER
‘N
o.’ The justicar shook his head. ‘My authority stops at the water’s edge. I can’t do anything with this. You’re the thief-taker. You want your money, you go and get him.’ They’d been in the Eight Pillars of Smoke for half an hour. The Justicar had listened politely enough to the thief-taker and then for twenty minutes he’d talked about other things, mostly about the penny increase in grain tax recently announced by the Overlord and the likely trouble that would bring. For all that time, he’d pointedly ignored Berren’s presence. Now, though, now that he’d finally returned to the subject that had brought them together, his eyes settled on Berren for the first time. ‘And I believe I instructed you not to bring your boy into my presence again.’
Master Sy’s face didn’t change, but Berren heard a rumble of distant angry thunder in his master’s voice. ‘The boy needs to learn. Where I go, he goes.’
‘Well then he must be going to Siltside.’ The Justicar smiled and then yawned. ‘I’m sure that will be an enlightening experience for him.’
‘I don’t do my work across the river,’ said Master Sy. He still sounded amiable enough, but Berren knew him better. Inside he cringed. Most likely,
he
was the one who was going to feel the worst of Master Sy’s wrath, simply because he was there.
‘Well neither do I. The difference is that you make a choice, while I am bound by imperial law. I’ll have boats and a few dozen good men at the ready first thing in the morning. At dawn, if you like.’
‘And who’s going to lead your men, Justicar? It had better be someone I know.’
‘Oh well, that it most certainly is. You, Syannis. You’re going to lead them.’
‘I’m a thief-taker, not a soldier.’
The Justicar snorted like a pig. ‘And I am simply a trivial functionary voicing the emperor’s will, communicated directly into my thoughts by a gang of eunuch mages in Varr who have nothing better to do with their time.’ He spat. ‘Pull the other one, Syannis. What are you after? More gold?’ He reached into his robes and fiddled there for a few seconds. When his hand emerged again, it was holding a small purse. He opened it up and counted out five golden emperors. ‘There. In addition to our agreed price. Which you only get if you bring me back this Bloody Dag fellow alive. The guild would like to torture him and then parade him in public up on The Peak. It would help a lot if you could bring back some of their missing merchandise too.’ He showed his teeth. ‘You know. So that they can be sure you aren’t just leading them in circles.’
The thief-taker ran his fingers over the coins. He picked them up and moved them around the palm of his hand. ‘Five emperors for a day’s work? I suppose that’s a reasonable offer.’ Then he glanced at Berren. ‘Then there’s the boy, too.’
The Justicar blinked. For a few seconds, he only stared at Master Sy. Then his jaw dropped. He started to stutter. ‘You . . . You . . . You must be out of your mind! For . . .’ He glared at Berren. ‘You want me to pay for
him
?’
‘I believe the entitlement for an apprentice is two coins for every ten to his master. That’s the guild’s valuation, Kol, not mine. Imperial law, just like you said, and I wouldn’t want to cross the guild. Would you?’
By now the top of the Justicar’s head was bright red. Shaking, his fingers dipped into his purse and drew out another golden emperor. ‘I’ll not forget this,’ he hissed.
‘Oh tosh.’ Master Sy snatched up the last coin. ‘I could have held out for ten emperors and you’d have paid me. You got a bargain today, Kol, and you know it.’ He rose. ‘Good day, Justicar.’
Outside, the thief-taker flipped one of the gold coins at Berren. ‘There. You earned your first emperor. Go and enjoy yourself, lad. I’ll not need you tomorrow.’
‘But . . .’
Master Sy wagged a finger at Berren. ‘No, lad. This is dangerous work now. Siltside isn’t Bedlam’s Crossing, and I’ll wager you your one emperor against all five of mine that Kol will pick the most brutal men he’s got for this. Most likely they’ll run riot. There’s going to be knives and clubs and swords and you don’t know the first thing about fighting. Not for real.’
Berren stamped his foot. ‘Then teach me, master. Teach me swords! Teach me how to fight so that I can help you!’
‘No, boy. I’ve told you when I’ll teach you swords. You listen to me, lad, you hang on to every word you hear and commit it to your heart and then maybe, a couple of years from now, you’ll know enough to start being useful to me. Then I might think about teaching you how to fight.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘If I were you, I’d go and spend some of that gold on learning how to take a drink or two. You might even enjoy yourself. Or take Lilissa down to the docks for the evening. Or go to the market and buy her something nice. Let her know that her fishmonger’s son is going to have to strive bloody hard to be good enough for her.’
For a few seconds it worked. Berren’s mind wandered. He thought of Lilissa and how he’d felt when she’d been around him, and how right the thief-taker was, that spending some time alone with her was about as nice a thought as he could think. For a few seconds, until they emerged from behind the courthouse and into Four Winds Square, and he realised that Master Sy was simply trying to get rid of him. Telling him to buy her presents? Telling him to go and spend some time with her? Alone, with no one to watch over them?
Get her out of your head, lad.
That’s what the thief-taker used to say.
Got herself a friend. A young man sort of friend, if you catch my drift. A fishmonger’s son. A good sort.
And what happened to
keep your hands to yourself with her or I’ll cut them off and dump them in the sea and you with them.
Eh?
‘Master,’ he said, after thinking about this for a few seconds more. Two could play at this game. ‘How would I go about courting her? Properly, I mean. Like a gentleman. ’ There. The thief-taker could hardly complain about a question like that. Berren hid a grin. Master Sy would have to answer, and properly too, or else let him go across the river to Siltside for the fight.
To his surprise, though, the thief-taker stopped. He turned around, put a hand on each of Berren’s shoulders and grinned. The most frightening thing was that he seemed truly pleased. ‘Now, that, lad, is the first clever question I’ve heard from you.’ He pursed his lips. ‘You really want to know?’
Berren nodded.
‘You won’t be the first to court her, you know. There have been others. This one at the moment trying his luck, I think she likes him.’
‘I don’t think she likes me, master.’
The thief-taker grunted. ‘Don’t be so sure.’ Then he led Berren out into the middle of the square, to the bronze statue of the late Emperor Khrozus. He leaned back against it and then slid down until he was squatting on the ground. ‘Women come in many kinds, as best I can see it, lad. There’s those you can win with derring-do. There’s those you can win with jewels and gold. There’s those you can win with wine and song. There’s those you can win simply by being kind. Lilissa’s not any of those. How do you court her? With a bit of them all, lad. With a bit of them all. Show her you can look after her. Show her you can take care of her. Show her you won’t ever leave her. Show her you can protect her. Show her you can love her. Show her you can take her to places she’s never been. Show her wonders. Show her strength. Show her kindness and compassion. Show her she can be anything and so can you. Take her dancing in the sea, take her flying in the sky, take her to the finest table in The Peak, then take her home and take your leave and ask for nothing in return. You can do all those things and you might still not unlock the heart of a lady like Lilissa.’ He slapped Berren on the back and jumped to his feet. ‘Yes, you can do all of those things and get nothing at all for your trouble; but at least then you can say, in all honesty, that you tried, you really tried as hard as anybody reasonably could, and if she still doesn’t love you, well then most probably it’s because some half-bastard mage put a spell on her. That or she once fell in the sea and a merman got to her.’ He laughed. ‘Or maybe she just has a thing for fishmongers.’
The more Berren thought about any of this, the less sense he could make of Master Sy’s words. As they walked across the open space of the square towards the Godsway corner and the alley that would take them home, the furrows in his brow grew steadily deeper. The thief-taker strode into his yard. The gang of children were there again; they scattered around him, laughing and chanting,
run while you can, run while you can, run while you can from the thief-taker man,
until Master Sy shooed them away. He unlocked his door and went into the cool gloom of the house.
‘Master . . .’
The thief-taker didn’t even break stride. It was as if he’d been waiting for Berren to open his mouth. ‘Take her down to the sea-docks, lad. Buy her a pickled fish in a bun and then take her down to the edge of the water and sit on the wall and watch the sun set. Tell her who you are. You’ll get most of your emperor back in crowns and you’ll know, by the time you walk her home, whether she wants you to do it again.’ He didn’t look round, just started to busy himself with tidying the table and cleaning his boots. Berren’s chores, on any other day.
Berren hovered in the doorway, uncertain.
‘Go on, lad. Sunset won’t wait forever and you’ll not be doing yourself any favours if you make her run.’
Quietly, Berren closed the door. Outside in the yard, he took a deep breath. His heart was beating quickly, already excited by what he was about to do.
Waiting was only making him even more nervous. Abruptly, he set off, heading for the docks. Not the sea-docks and a sunset, though. No, to the river docks and dawn. To boats filled with swords. To Siltside.
23
CROSSING OVER
L
ike the harbour on the other side of the city, the river docks were always busy. Berren slunk across them in twilight, feeling his way uneasily along the floating jetties, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst all the boat-boys who ran nimbly back and forth as though they’d been born there. Not that that mattered as long as Master Sy stayed in his house. After a couple of hours’ searching he found what he was looking for. Three boats towards the south end of the docks, where the Overlord’s barges were kept. He bought a bag of spiced roasted grasshoppers with some of the pennies he’d stolen on the way to Bedlam’s Crossing, and then wandered over to the soldiers who stood guard at the Overlord’s docks. They eyed him with suspicion.
‘I’m Master Syannis’ apprentice,’ he told them and offered up the bag. ‘Are you on the run to Siltside tomorrow? ’ They weren’t, but by the time his bag was empty, he knew which boats would be used. Half an hour later he was in the front one, curled up in the bows under a tarpaulin, with coils of rope piled up around him. The night air was warm and moist, typical for a Deephaven summer. Later in the night, as he dozed, the night-rain came, a light fine mist at first, then fat heavy drops. It drummed against the tarpaulin, trying to get in. Berren wrapped his arms around his head and ignored it. At least the tarpaulin didn’t leak. Not like Master Hatchet’s roof. Then the next thing he knew the rain had gone, it was dawn, there were voices grumbling and the boat was tossing and rolling as men clambered aboard. Peeping out from under his cover, Berren saw at least a dozen men. They had burning torches and ringmail coats and were loading the boat with heavy crossbows, boasting about how many mudlarks they were going to kill. A part of him couldn’t believe it had been so easy. Another part wished it hadn’t, but it was too late for turning back.
‘There will be no killing unless we have to,’ said a sharp voice. Instinctively, Berren ducked down, not even peeping any more but letting his ears do the work. Master Sy was on the same boat! ‘And put those torches out. It’ll be light enough where we’re going.’
‘They’re not for light, thief-taker. They’re for burning mudlarks.’
‘No killing!’
There was some more grumbling and muttering about how the mudlarks most likely wouldn’t let there be much choice in the matter. Then the motion of the boat changed as they started to row out into the river current.
‘How am I supposed to keep a look out when the bloody sun’s coming up right in my eyes,’ growled a voice just a few feet from where Berren was hiding. ‘Can’t see a cursed thing.’
The reply came from Master Sy. ‘Your Justicar chose the time, not me. They’ll see us coming and they’ll be forewarned. We’ll not be taking them by surprise.’
‘Aye, should have come at dusk with the sun behind us for that.’
‘The hours they wake and sleep are driven by the tides. They come out when the tide is low to forage for food. The tide is high now. The time is good enough.’
‘Better be,’ grumbled someone else. ‘Otherwise we’ll be wading across half a mile of shitty mud.’
‘Wading? You’ll be sinking with all that ringmail on.’ After that the boat was quiet for a while, silent except for the creaking of the oars and the splash as they dipped into the water. High overhead, seagulls called up the dawn to wake the river.
‘Shit!’
‘Khrozus’ Blood!’ The boat rocked violently.
‘Shields!’
‘What was that? Was that an arrow?’

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