The Gentleman Bastard Series 3-Book Bundle: The Lies of Locke Lamora, Red Seas Under Red Skies, The Republic of Thieves (144 page)

“Ohhhhh, Lucarno, is it?” Jean tugged at his beard thoughtfully. “ ‘Woman, your heart
is a mapless maze. Could I bottle confusion and drink it a thousand years, I could
not confound myself so much as you do between waking and breakfast. You are grown
so devious that serpents would applaud your passage, would the gods but give them
hands.’ ”

“I like that one,” she said. “
The Empire of Seven Days
, right?”

“Right. Ezri, forgive my asking, but how the hell do you—”

“It’s no more odd than the fact that you know any of this.” She took the bottle from
him, tipped it back for a long draught, and then raised her free hand. “I know. I’ll
give you a hint. ‘I have held the world from meridian to meridian in my hands and
at my whim. I have received the confessions of emperors, the wisdom of magi, the lamentations
of generals.’ ”

“You had a library? You
have
a library?”

“Had,” she said. “I was the sixth of six daughters. I imagine the novelty wore off.
Mother and father could afford live companions for the older five. I made do with
all the dead playmates in mother’s books.” With her next drink she drained the last
of the bottle, and with a grin she tossed it overboard. “So what’s your excuse?”

“My education was, ah, eclectic. Did you ever … When you were little, do you remember
a toy of wooden pegs, in various shapes, that would fit into matching holes on a wooden
frame?

“Yes,” she said. “I got my sisters’ when they tired of it.”

“You might say that I was trained to be a professional square peg in a round hole.”

“Really? Is there a guild for that?”

“We’ve been working on getting a charter for years.”

“Did you have a library as well?”

“After a fashion. Sometimes we’d … borrow someone else’s without their knowledge or
cooperation. Long story. But there’s one other reason. I’ll give you a verse of your
own to guess. ‘After dark,’ ” he recited with a flourish, “ ‘an ass with an audience
of one is called a husband; an ass with an audience of two hundred is called a success.’ ”

“You were … on stage,” she said. “You were a player! Professionally?”

“Temporarily,” said Jean. “Very temporarily. I was … well … we …,”He glanced aft and
instantly regretted it.

“Ravelle,” Ezri said, then looked at Jean curiously. “You and he were … you two are
having some sort of disagreement, aren’t you?”

“Can we not talk about him?” Jean, feeling bold and nervous at once, put a hand on
her arm. “Just for tonight. Can he not exist?”

“We can indeed not talk about him,” she said, shifting herself so that her weight
rested against his chest rather than the rail. “Tonight,” she said, “
nobody
else exists.”

Jean stared down at her, suddenly acutely aware of the beat of his own heart. The
rising moonlight in her eyes, the feel of her warmth against him, the smell of brandy
and sweat and salt water that was uniquely hers—suddenly the only thing he was capable
of saying was, “Uhhhhhh …”

“Jerome Valora,” she said, “you magnificent idiot, must I draw you a diagram?”

“Of—”

“Take me to my cabin.” She curled the fabric of his tunic in one fist. “I have the
privilege of walls and I intend to use it. At length.”

“Ezri,” Jean whispered, “never in a hundred, never in a thousand years would I say
no, but you were cut half to ribbons today, and you can barely stand—”

“I know,” she said. “That’s the only reason I’m confident I’m not going to
break
you.”

“Oh, for that I’m going to—”

“I certainly hope you will.” She threw her arms wide. “First get me there.”

He picked her up with ease; she settled into his arms and wrapped hers around his
neck. As Jean swung away from the rail and headed for the
quarterdeck stairs, he found himself facing an arc of thirty or forty Merry Watch
revelers. They raised their arms and began cheering wildly.

“Put your names on a list,” hollered Ezri, “so I can kill you all in the morning!”
She smiled and turned her eyes back to Jean. “Or maybe it’ll have to wait for the
afternoon.”

“JUST LISTEN,” said Locke. “Listen, please, with as open a mind as you can manage.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Your, ah, deduction about Jerome and myself is commendable. It does make sense, but
for the parts that I’ve concealed until now. Starting with myself. I’m not a trained
fighter. I’m a bloody
miserable
fighter. I have tried to be otherwise, but the gods know, it’s always comedy or tragedy
before I can blink.”

“That—”

“Zamira. Heed this. I didn’t kill four men with anything resembling skill. I dropped
a beer cask on a man too dumb to look up. I slit the throats of two more who got knocked
aside by the cask. I did the fourth when he slipped in beer. When everyone else found
the bodies, I let them make their own assumptions.”

“But I know for a fact that you charged those Redeemers all by yourself—”

“Yes. People who are about to die frequently go out of their minds. I should have
died ten seconds into that fight, Zamira. It was Jerome who made it otherwise. Jerome
and
only
Jerome.”

At that moment, a loud cheer abruptly rose above the noise of the near carnival at
the ship’s waist. Locke and Zamira both turned in time to see Jean appear at the top
of the quarterdeck stairs with Lieutenant Delmastro in his arms. Neither of them so
much as glanced aft at Locke and the captain; a few seconds later they were vanishing
down the companionway.

“Well,” said Zamira, “to win that heart, even for a night, your friend Jerome must
be even more extraordinary than I thought.”

“He is extraordinary,” Locke whispered. “He continues to save my life, time and time
again, even when I don’t deserve it.” He returned his gaze to the
Orchid
’s roiling, glowing, monster-haunted wake. “Which is always, more or less.”

Zamira said nothing, and after a few moments Locke continued.

“Well, after he did it again this morning, I slipped and fumbled and ran like hell
until the fight was over. That’s all. Panic and dumb luck.”

“You still led the boats. You still went up first, not knowing what was waiting for
you.”

“All bullshit. I’m a bullshit artist, Zamira. A false-facer. An actor, an impersonator.
I didn’t have any noble motives when I made that request. My life just wasn’t worth
much if I didn’t do something utterly crazy to win back some respect. I faked every
second of composure anyone glimpsed this morning.”

“The fact that you consider that extraordinary only tells me that it really
was
your first actual battle.”

“But—”

“Ravelle, anyone in command feigns ease when death is near. We do it for those around
us, and we do it for ourselves. We do it because the sole alternative is to die cringing.
The difference between an experienced leader and an untested one is that
only
the untested one is shocked at how well they can pretend when their hand is forced.”

“I don’t believe this,” said Locke. “When I first came aboard, I couldn’t impress
you enough to make you spit in my face. Now you’re making my excuses for me. Zamira,
Jerome and I never worked for the Priori. I’ve never even met a Priori except in passing.
The fact is that we’re still working for Maxilan Stragos as we speak.”

“What?”

“Jerome and I are thieves. Professional, independent thieves. We came to Tal Verrar
on a very delicate job of our own design. The archon’s … intelligence services figured
out who and what we were. Stragos poisoned us, a latent poison for which only he can
supply the antidote. Until we get it or secure some other remedy, we’re his puppets.”

“To what possible end?”

“Stragos handed us the
Red Messenger
, allowed us to take a crew from Windward Rock, and built up a parchment trail concerning
an imaginary disgruntled officer named Orrin Ravelle. He gave us our sailing master—the
one whose heart seized on us before we hit the storm—and sent us out here on his business.
That’s how we got the ship. That’s how we tweaked Stragos’ nose in such an unlikely
fashion. All was to his design.”

“What’s he after? Someone in Port Prodigal?”

“He wants the same thing you gave him last time you crossed paths. He’s all but at
war with the Priori, and he’s feeling his years. If he’s going to seize anything resembling
popularity ever again, the time is now. He needs
an enemy outside the city to bring his army and navy back into favor. That’s
you
, Zamira. Nothing would be more convenient for Stragos than a wider outbreak of piracy
near his city in the next few months.”

“Which is
exactly
why the Brass Sea captains have avoided going anywhere near Tal Verrar for the last
seven years! We learned our lesson the bitter way. If he comes looking for a brawl,
we’ll duck and run before we’ll grant him one.”

“I know. And so does he. Our job—our
mandate
—is to find some way to stir up trouble down here regardless. To get you to fly the
red flag close enough for common Verrari to see it from the public outhouses.”

“How the hell did you ever plan on accomplishing this?”

“I had some half-assed idea to spread rumors, offer bribes. If you hadn’t hit the
Messenger
, I would have tried to kindle a mess myself. But that was before we had any hint
to the real state of things out here. Now Jerome and I obviously need your help.”

“To do what?”

“To buy time. To convince Stragos that we’re succeeding on his behalf.”

“If you think for one second that I’ll do anything to aid the archon—”

“I don’t,” said Locke, “and if you think for one second that I truly mean to aid him,
you haven’t been listening. Stragos’ antidote is supposedly good for two months. That
means Jerome and I
must
be in Tal Verrar in five weeks to get another sip. And if we have no progress to
claim, he may simply decide to fold his investment in us.”

“If you have to leave us to return to Tal Verrar,” she said, “that’s unfortunate.
But you can find an independent trader in Port Prodigal; they’re never more than a
few days apart. We have arrangements with a number of them that call in Tal Verrar
and Vel Virazzo. You’ll have enough money from your shares to buy passage.”

“Zamira, you have more wit than this. Listen. I have spoken personally to Stragos
several times. Been lectured, is more the word. And I
believe
him. I believe that this is his last chance to put his foot down on the Priori and
truly rule Tal Verrar. He needs an enemy, Zamira. He needs an enemy that he knows
he can crush.”

“Then it would be madness to acquiesce to his plan by provoking him.”

“Zamira, this fight is coming to you regardless of your intentions. You are
all he has
. You are the only foe that suits. He’s already sacrificed a ship, a veteran sailing
master, a galley crew’s worth of prisoners, and a considerable amount of his own prestige
just to put Jerome and me in play. As long as we’re out here, as long as you’re helping
us, then you’ll know exactly
where his plans rest, because we’ll be running them from your ship. If you ignore
us, I have no idea what he’ll try next. All I know is that he
will
have other designs, and you won’t be privy to them.”

“What good will it do me,” said Zamira, “to play along with you, and rouse Tal Verrar
to the point that Stragos achieves his desire? We couldn’t best his fleet seven years
ago, with twice our present numbers.”

“You’re not the weapon,” said Locke. “Jerome and I are the weapons. We have access
to Stragos. All we need is an answer to the poison and we’ll turn on the son of a
bitch like a scorpion in his breechclout.”

“For this I dangle my ship, my crew, and my children in easy reach of an enemy far
beyond my strength?”

“Zamira, you spoke of the Sea of Brass as though it were a fairy kingdom, infinitely
mutable, but you are lashed tight to Port Prodigal and you must know it. I don’t doubt
that you could sail for any port in the world and fetch it safely, but could you live
anywhere else as you do here? Sell your goods and captured ships as easily? Pay your
crew so regularly? Know the waters and your fellow outlaws so well? Lurk in trade
lanes half as far from the navy of any great power?”

“This is the strangest conversation I have had in years,” said Zamira, returning her
hat to her head. “And probably the strangest request anyone has ever made of me. I
have no way of knowing if anything you say is true. But I know this ship, and how
fast she can run, if all else fails. Even Port Prodigal.”

“That is, of course, one option. Ignore me. Wait until Stragos finds some other way
to have his war, or a likeness of a war. And then fly. To some other sea, some harder
life. You said yourself you can’t beat the archon’s navy; you can’t strike at Stragos
by force of arms. So consider this—every other choice you have will sooner or later
turn into withdrawal and retreat. Jerome and I represent the sole means of attack
that you will ever possess. With your help, we could destroy the archonate forever.”

“How?”

“That’s … sort of a work in progress.”

“Possibly the least reassuring thing you’ve—”

“If nothing else,” interrupted Locke, “we
know
that there are powerful forces in Tal Verrar balanced against the archon. Jerome
and I could contact them, involve them somehow. If the archonate were abolished, the
Priori would hold Tal Verrar by the purse strings. The last thing they’d want is embroilment
in a useless war that might create another popular military hero.”

“Standing here at the stern of my ship, weeks away from Tal Verrar, how can you speak
with any certainty of what can be done with that city’s merchants and politicians?”

“You said yourself that I had a talent for dishonesty. I often think it the only skill
I have worthy of recommendation.”