Thief: A Fantasy Hardboiled (Ratcatchers Book 2) (9 page)

The specials were gone. Teagan waited a moment until their argument outside trailed off down the street.

“You can come down,” he said.

Vanora danced down the stairs and took stock of the mess.

“I’ll clean this up,” she said. “Can you take the bodies out of here?”

“How old are you?” Teagan asked.

She collapsed a little, and frowned at him. “Really?”

Teagan shook his head. “You should be apprenticed to a seamstress or a candlemaker. Or an ostler. I bet you like horses.”

“Fuck that,” Vanora said. “I’m none of those things and never was going to be. Can you help with the bodies or not? This floor’s going to take days to get clean.”

Teagan shrugged. “You should go back to Miss Elowen.”

“Miss Elowen’s not going to clean this floor,” Vanora said, and went about looking for a mop.

“It’s what you know,” Teagan admitted. “I mean what are you going to…”

“I was at Miss Elowen’s and she sent me away!” Vanora barked. “I had a fit, and she sent me off to be…
put down
.” She bit the words off. “She said I was special, and I believed her, but
in the end
….” She left that alone. “Heden saved me. I’m not going back to the Rose, fuck the Rose.”

“And when he doesn’t come back?”

“He’s coming back,” Vanora said. “He promised.”

Teagan shook his head. “I thought you were too young,” he said. “I was wrong. You’re too old to believe in fairy stories. And a trull at that.”

“Shows what you know,” Vanora said. “Trulls believe in fairy stories their whole lives.”

Teagan watched the girl begin mopping up the blood. He wasn’t sure what to do or say, he felt grossly out of his depth, but he knew the priest instinctively the way he was sure the girl could not, and felt she deserved the chance to make up her own mind. So he took a chance.

“Let me tell you something about that priest,” he said, and his voice seemed bleak, not youthful as it had been. This drew Vanora’s attention. “I know about him. Known men like him. No matter what he promises you, no matter how good his intentions, eventually there’ll be someone else needs him more and he’ll have no choice. Man like that,” Teagan said, and shook his head. “The world heaps everything on him until he breaks. And he will break. ‘Cause there’s no end to the need. It’ll eat him up and then he’ll be gone.”

“Then I go with him,” Vanora said instantly. “He saved me. I go where he goes.”

“Why go with anyone?” Teagan asked. This brought Vanora up short. The answer was so obvious, he was being so stupid, so why couldn’t she articulate why?

Why be with anyone? Stupid question. She shook her head to get it out.

“I’ve got a plan,” she said. “I can do it myself.”

Teagan watched her begin scrubbing industriously. It was a simple problem, blood. But it would take a lot of work. And it seemed the girl was committed. The floor would get clean.

“I’ll take care of the bodies,” Teagan said.

“Well that’s the end for mister scribbler here,” Fandrick said.

Aiden said nothing. His grimace spoke for him.

“How you figure?” Rayk asked. The three of them stood on the wooden stoop in front of the Hammer & Tongs. The thick midday street traffic creating a low roar they had to talk over.

Fandrick spat. “I said it was deathless, I said it was a cult. We shoulda gone to the church, instead we came here. Wasted time.”

“It’s not wasted,” Aiden said quietly. “We can still go to the church, and probably should. But we learned a lot coming here,” he said.

“Learned it’s something to do with the count,” Rayk agreed. “That’s useful. Count’s in some kind of pissing match with a cult.”

“This happened twelve hour ago,” Fandrick said. “Gallows happened
after
, which means we’re working backwards and we should’a been working forwards and we
would’a
been working forwards if Mr. Scribbler here hadn’t come on with his airs about ‘it can’t be deathless.’ Balls,” Fandrick pronounced.

“We found evidence of the count’s men,” Aiden said, looking at his shoes, “but no cultists. No sign of any cultists at either scene.”

“Well someone chewed up the count’s men,” Rayk said.

“The ghouls,” Fandrick growled.

“But who summoned the ghouls,” Aiden asked, turning to look at the window into the inn. It was too dark inside to see anything.

“The fucking cultists!” Fandrick barked. “Are you daft? Are you mental? Me and the ragman gonna have a word about you.”

Aiden took a deep breath. “Maybe,” he said. “Someone summoned those ghouls. Maybe it’s cultists.”

“Count’s in a pissing match with a cult, and this is what happens. Dead thieves everywhere. Better them than us.”

“You say that like it explains something,” Aiden wasn’t going to let someone just ride over him. He didn’t know why the…the ragman picked him, but he was in it now and he wanted to know. Wanted to know what was happening. “It’s been
three years
since the last deathless was seen anywhere, by anyone. Cultists
can’t
summon deathless anymore, otherwise they’d all be doing it.”

Aiden and Fandrick stared at each other.

“You don’t think it’s cultists,” Aiden said severely. “You just
hope
it’s cultists because that’s what you know. Well you take what you know, and you go back in there and look at the scene and tell me it makes any sense.”

Fandrick fumed, but said nothing.

“Any of this make sense to you?” Aiden threw this at Rayk.

Rayk shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she said. “I don’t know if cultists is a dead end either way, but I know the count’s involved, so I say we watch him.”

Aiden nodded. “Let’s find out. Let’s go talk to the count.”

“Talk to the count!” Fandrick said. “You are mental! Fuck you think’ll happen if we just roll into his club, brace him in front of all the nobs he holds court with? He’ll smile and nod and half a turn later our guts’ll be spilled all over the street.”

“He does that and it’s a war with the castellan. Court on the street.”

“Who taught you that?” Rayk interrupted the barking match. “Who taught you ‘court on the street?’”

“I read a lot,” Aiden snapped. “Now someone, the count, I don’t know, is going around the city using ghouls to murder people and he’s doing it right in front of us, in broad daylight, and he doesn’t give a shit if we know. Doesn’t cover his tracks. Like we don’t matter.”

“We don’t matter,” Fandrick snarled. “We ain’t thieves, we ain’t assassins.”

“We’re the special watch,” Aiden said. “The castellan’s men.”

“That don’t mean nothing,” Fandrick said.

Aiden was trying to stop the shaking running through his limbs. He wasn’t used to confrontation and didn’t much like it. But didn’t like being ignored more. “We’re both going to have a talk with the ragman when we get back,” he said, and stood his ground under Fandrick’s glower.

When Fandrick didn’t replay, Aiden pushed his slim advantage. “Now here’s something neither of you asked,” he said and walked down the wooden steps into the street. Foot traffic jostled him, but he didn’t move.

“What’s this inn have to do with it?” Aiden asked, his eyes roaming around the whole building. “What’s in here worth fighting over?” Neither Fandrick nor Rayk offered an answer. They didn’t know, and they didn’t like not knowing.

Aiden looked at the other buildings in the row, and at the people passing by and said, mostly to himself;

“And where’s her owner?”

Days later, and Vanora’s plan was working better than she’d ever imagined. A half dozen men ate and drank in the common room, trying the place out.

“It’s cold down there,” Martlyn said of the cellar, “and it looks like some of the food just arrived, it’s still good. But it’s mostly wine and ale and stuff anyway.”

Vanora nodded.

“What’ll we do? We got so much more wine than….”

“We just lower the price on the wine until everyone’s coming here to drink it. Take the money, buy ham and mutton and duck.”

“That makes sense,” Martlyn said, nodding. “You’re a natural at this stuff Violet.”

Vanora smiled and caught herself wondering if it was a real smile, or one she put on for effect. She wasn’t sure.

“It helps having friends,” she said, and Martlyn smiled back.

It all seemed ridiculously easy. Half the girls had worked in taverns before coming to Miss Elowen anyway. Vanora hadn’t considered that. Word of mouth spread and eight girls were now spending their off time here at the inn, time they’d otherwise use to drum up business on their own or go shopping outside the Rose.

They all seemed to know what to do and none of them, even the older girls questioned Vanora’s role in this. That surprised her more than anything. She imagined constant fighting to see who was in charge, but no. The girls all seemed to…to want someone to be in charge. They were happy that Vanora took that role. It was like this huge secret no one had ever told her. The girls, it seemed, wanted to be useful, wanted to get paid, earn a wage. No one argued with her about anything. She thought it would be nothing but arguing and the inn would never open. But they were opening tonight. It was working.

She wasn’t sure how she’d work out the hours. Taverns usually opened mid-afternoon and stayed open until a few hours past midnight, but inns in the city were expected to be open and have staff and food ready all the hours of the day.

Unless Vanora started hiring people, which she didn’t intend on doing, they’d only be open a few hours a day, and be unable to rent out any rooms. The girls all had jobs already.

Maybe she should hire some people. Couldn’t be that hard. She’d need someone to keep people in line. Someone like Bann. She wanted to ask him, but was afraid that he’d go tell Miss Elowen and she’d tell the girls they couldn’t come here. But Miss Elowen had to know, didn’t she? She knew everything the girls got up to.

She watched Martlyn go down into the cellar, and decided she’d solve that problem when she got to it. A strategy she was discovering worked better than she’d ever imagined. She remembered her mother, cringing before her father, and she got goosebumps thinking about what she was doing here in this inn. Something her mother would never in her life have ever tried or thought of.

There was a cough that turned into a loud hacking wheeze. An old man nursed a drink at one of the tables. He was alone and, Vanora remembered, had been here a few hours.

She walked over to him. “Hungry yet?” He had a red face and a thin wisp of white hair curling haphazardly around his head. He wore a chasuble of St. Llewellyn.

The old man looked around the common room as though seeing it for the first time. “Yes!”

“Duck?” she asked.

“Mutton,” the old man said, and lifted his tankard. “And more ale.”

Vanora nodded and went to get the man some food.

When she returned another two men had entered the inn and Martlyn was attending to them. Vanora served the old man his mutton and ale.

“When was the last time you left this building,” the old man said conversationally. As though they’d known each other forever and this was a perfectly normal thing to ask.

“What?” Vanora asked.

“You are young miss Vanora, yes?” the old man asked.

“How do you know my name?” Vanora frowned.

The old man nodded to the chair. Vanora put a hand on the chair back, but did not sit down.

“How long since you left the inn?” the old man asked again, digging into his sheep meat.

“Who are you?” Vanora demanded.

The abbot looked at her from under thick white bushy eyebrows. His rheumy blue eyes sparkled. “We have a mutual friend in common,” he said smiling.

Vanora puzzled this out.

“I used to eat here, you know,” the abbot said, “Before he bought it and locked it up.”

“Heden,” she said. “You’re his friend.”

“One of them,” the abbot nodded. “Sit down.”

Vanora sat down.

“Where is he,” she said, her voice almost a hiss. She looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“One thing at a time,” the abbot said, enjoying his meal. “How long since you….”

“Yesterday,” Vanora said, irritated.

“Mm,” the abbot said, chewing. He swallowed. “Until he gets back, I would not advise leaving again. Unless you know any secret ways out of here. There are some!” the abbot said. “But I was never privy to their location or their workings.”

“What are you talking about?” Vanora asked. “Where’s Heden?”

“The place is being watched,” the abbot said, leaning forward and holding Vanora’s gaze. “By the count’s men, I assume.”

“Watched,” Vanora said, coming over all still.

“Mm,” the abbot said. “They may not snatch you the minute you walk outside, they may follow you. See where you go. But not for long, I shouldn’t think.”

“I’m trapped,” Vanora put her hands flat on the table.

“At least until Heden comes back. What’s your opinion of him?” the abbot asked, idly.

“He’s coming back!” Vanora asked, her concern about being watched, gone.

The abbot nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Well, you knew he was. If you thought he wasn’t coming back, you wouldn’t have done this,” he said gesturing to the common room and the people eating inside. “Brilliant idea, I’d like to add. Don’t sit around waiting, do something. Healthy. I see you’ve got friends helping.”

Vanora ignored him. “Where is he!? What happened to him?” she demanded,
sotto voce.

“Well as to where he is; he’s on his way back. It may take him a few days more. What happened to him? That’s between you and him. And he and I, I suppose, eventually. But you still haven’t answered the question. What do you think of him?”

“He saved me,” Vanora said. She didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like that said it all.

The abbot nodded. “Yes. He does that. Has been known to do it. In your case I’d like to think it was the Gods or one of the Saints at work. I think he took the job from Gwiddon because he had someone waiting here—you—who he didn’t want to disappoint. Which only makes sense if you know how his mind works. And after many years I like to think I do. Of course, you had no idea who he was or what he did or what kind of burden the Church puts on him. But you knowing or not knowing doesn’t matter to him. He could shrug off the Church and his duties and his life as long as it was just him, but once you entered the picture, once someone depended on him, well that changes things.”

Vanora blinked at him, trying to absorb all this.

“Anyway that’s just one man’s opinion. What’s yours?”

“What’s mine?”

“Your opinion. Of Heden.”

She shrugged. “He saved me,” she said again.

“That simply won’t do,” the abbot said, frowning. “It’s no use you saying ‘he saved me’ anytime someone asks you about him. You’re living in his inn, you’re waiting for his return, you need to develop a more sophisticated outlook on the man.”

Vanora looked around. Was anyone else seeing this? Was anyone else being interrogated by an elderly godbotherer? It seemed unreal. But she took his question seriously and thought.

“I trust him,” she said eventually.

The abbot took a deep breath and went back to his meal. He seemed to like the potatoes. “That will have to do, I suppose.”

“Should I not trust him?” Vanora asked.

The abbot raised his eyebrows. “Now
that
is a question. A good one. One I am often asked by many people
about
many people and I find myself deploying the same phrasing every time;

“You can trust him to act in accordance with his nature,” he said cryptically.

Vanora winced as she tried this idea out. “What does that mean?”

“Well I suppose it means you can’t
always
trust him. Not in the sense that you mean. It
is
possible he will let you down. Anyone has that capacity, no matter how good or righteous. The trick lies in knowing what he would let you down
for
.”

Vanora considered this. The abbot liked talking and continued.

“Some men will let you down because they get bored with you, or distracted. Or because
not
letting you down has never been important to them. Some men will let you down and not even realize you were depending on them. Heden is none of them, you’ll be happy to know.

“He is a man who will keep his word
if at all possible
, a condition I think he sometimes forgets. You must not.”

Vanora blinked.

“For instance,” the abbot continued, “I daresay Heden promised to be back before this.”

“Yes!” Vanora said, happy to participate in the conversation again.

“And you trusted him when he said this,” the abbot said.

This brought Vanora up short. She was skirting around the edges of the abbot’s point, beginning to see the shape of it, but it was unfamiliar territory.

“Yes,” she hesitated.

“Now,” the abbot said, “Heden did
not
come back when he promised you. And you feel wronged. Slighted.”

Vanora nodded rapidly but chose not to interrupt.

“He broke his word to you. And yet, only a moment ago, when pressed, you said you trusted him.”

Vanora’s eyes unfocused. She looked at nothing, thought. The abbot watched, then nodded to himself and drank more ale.

“I…,” Vanora started.

“You get it,” the abbot said. “I can tell. You trust his
character
and well you should. There are few men you can trust more. But you cannot trust to circumstance. Circumstance conspires against us all. He promises to return in a day or a day and a night, and a week passes. A betrayal? Certainly you feel you are
owed
something for this slight, a dangerous transaction but one I think it early to speak on, but you
immediately
conclude that something must have happened. True. That something more important, more pressing, prevented him from fulfilling his promise to you. True.

“And this is the nature of things. You don’t feel the promise broken, you feel you can still trust him. You can. But this is a lesson, young lady, and one you must learn early. The world puts many demands on Heden. He cares about you, you are important to him, but none of us are important to the
world
. And Heden sometimes finds himself burdened by the world.”

Vanora looked at him, eyes wide. “I understand,” she said, and was surprised to find it true.

The abbot nodded. “I thought you might.” He got up, slowly and it seemed painfully. Threw some coins on the table. “Thank you for the service. The mutton may be going off, not an emergency, but look into it.”

He walked with his odd gait to the door and opened it, stepped out onto the stoop. Vanora ran after him.

“Wait,” Vanora called out. She closed the door behind her. The abbot stood there with his back to her, watching the people in the street.

“Why did you come here?” Vanora asked.

“You didn’t want to know that Heden was alive?” The abbot said without turning around.

Vanora stared at his back. It took her a moment to formulate her thoughts.

“That’s not an answer,” she said, her brow furrowing.

The abbot didn’t say anything.

“I’d have found that out anyway,” she said, taking a step forward to stand right next to him. She lowered her voice. “You warned me not to leave the inn,” she said looking up and down the street. “Is that why you came here? To warn me?” She knew it wasn’t.

The abbot turned around and looked down at her. He wasn’t smiling.

“No,” he said. “That’s not why I came here as, I suppose, you’ve guessed. You guessed the truth
and
confronted me about it. Which is exactly what Heden would have done, why am I not surprised?”

Vanora felt herself grow a little taller at that.

The old man looked at her and shook his head. The kindly old man was gone. In his stead was the man who kept the secrets of men like Heden.

“Watch me when I say this, young lady, and know that I speak the truth. You’ll have to develop a sense for truth, and quickly.

“I came to get a look at you. I have some idea the powers arrayed against you and Heden and I wanted to know if you’ve got any chance. For one thing, I expect to see him soon, he’s going to ask me for advice and I needed a sense of you to give it to him. Or help him find it himself, which is my real job.