Warlock's Shadow (17 page)

The thief-taker rested his hand on Berren’s shoulder, cautioning him to be still. The six men walked past the mouth of the alley. The snuffer in front glanced straight at Berren but saw nothing but shadows. For a few seconds after they passed, Master Sy stared as though he was lost in some faraway place. When he came back, it was with a snap.

‘Boy, do you see the fat fool with the eyepatch?’ The men were already on the fringes of the docks, mingling with the crowds there. Berren squinted.

‘Yes, master. I do.’

‘That’s the Headsman. Best you remember his face. Did you see the keys on his belt?’ The thief-taker’s lip curled. He waved something under Berren’s nose, a bunch of keys. ‘Look what I got. Borrowed. Copied. Put back again. All without anyone knowing. See, you’re not the only one who knows a trick or two.’ He pulled Berren back, deeper into the shadows, whispering. ‘And so we come to why I’m bribing you with a particularly fine piece of sausage tonight. It was a good one wasn’t it?’

‘It was very nice.’

‘A favourite of yours, am I right?’

Berren nodded.

‘I want to see what’s the other side of this key. What about you?’

Of course he wanted to come! But still, he hesitated. ‘What do I have to do, master?’

The thief-taker scowled. ‘I need a pair of eyes to keep watch. If it goes wrong, I need someone who can take a message to Justicar Kol and tell them whatever we found. And I might need someone to … I might need a diversion.’

Someone to run, he meant, and be chased. Berren sniffed. ‘You and your gammy leg.’ The thief-taker’s leg had never quite recovered. If you didn’t know him, you’d never notice most of the time, but he couldn’t run the way he used to. Berren had seen him wince on the stairs once or twice too. He saw the thief-taker’s face darken and wished he hadn’t said anything. ‘Yeh,’ he said quickly. ‘Whatever I can do, master.’ He arched his back, stretching his spine and beamed. ‘Afterwards, I want you to teach me something,’ he said. ‘Something I can use in a fight.’

For what seemed like an age the thief-taker didn’t even blink. Then, very slowly, he nodded. ‘Something you can use in a fight.’ He raised an eyebrow. Berren nodded vigorously then stopped as the thief-taker waved him away. ‘Lad, eventually you’ll learn that I, too, have a sense of humour, so I’ll pretend that was a joke and laugh about it, shall I? Ha. Ha ha. Heh. There. Are we done now?’

‘But ma–’

The thief-taker growled. ‘Listen, boy, I’ve been teaching you how to fight since the day you came to me. I’ve been teaching you how to stand, how to move, how to hold a weapon. I’ve been teaching the muscles in your arm how to be strong–’ He stopped, and then hissed. ‘Berren, knives and swords
kill
people. So who, exactly, do you want to kill? Velgian? You saw what happened to him – is that how you want to end?’

‘I–’

‘Of course, mostly what knives and swords kill are idiot novices who think that having one makes them invincible. Right up until someone with a good stout stick gets inside their guard and knocks them down. And then, because they’re up against someone with a sword, and because that scares the living sun out of them, they make sure as Khrozus that you
stay
down.’ He sighed and shook his head.

Berren stared glumly into nothing. His shoulders slumped. ‘I just want to beat Tasahre. Just once.’ He gritted his teeth. When disappointment came knocking, what did a sword-master do? They didn’t wail and moan and cry, that was for sure. They fought back. He looked up again, fingering the gold token around his neck. There was always Varr, always the prince …

The thief-taker was looking at him through narrow eyes. It took Berren a moment to realise that Master Sy was laughing, shaking his head and laughing.

‘And that’s all is it? You want me to teach you something to beat a sword-monk? Nothing difficult then.’

Berren nodded.

‘You want to show that upstart girl what a thief-taker can do, eh?’

Berren nodded again.

‘That upstart girl over there who can’t hide in shadows for shit? The one who almost broke my leg?’ Master Sy had a gleam in his eye now. ‘Well now then, why didn’t you say?
That’s
different.’ He stood up, tightened his overcoat and shook his head, still muttering to himself. ‘Wants to show off to a sword-monk? Oh Berren, you have no idea.’ He laughed then patted Berren’s shoulder and peered out of the alley. ‘Well well. Now you’re talking about a very particular fight, and so we shall see what we can do. Tomorrow. Abyss-Day. When we’re done with our business tonight, I’ll teach you something that no sword-monk has ever faced. My promise.’

T
he thief-taker led the way to the docks. Most of the buildings that faced the sea were great wooden frames walled up with bricks, little more than shells for storing the mountains of kegs, barrels, crates, sacks and chests that flowed in and out of the city. The thief-taker walked on past all of those up to the Wrecking Point end of the harbour near the Reeper Gate. There was a huge stone building here, almost like a castle with tall walls and windows that were high above the ground and barred tight enough that not even a boy-thief could slip between them. The gate was open but there were guards on it, the Emperor’s guards no less, with their swords and the burning eagle on their chest. An archway ran past the gate and the guards, into darkness between black walls of shadow.

‘Been here before?’ asked Master Sy. He jangled his stolen keys.

Berren shook his head. There were no ships anchored at this end of the bay, no crowds of drunken sailors or grumbling labourers here. It wasn’t the sort of place where raggedy dock-boys were welcome, and in his time with Master Hatchet he’d learned to avoid the Emperor’s guards.

‘First time for everything then.’ Master Sy slapped him on the shoulder. ‘The Emperor’s House of Records. Although I doubt the Emperor himself has the first idea that he has such a thing.’ He walked towards the gates, brazenly in the open. The soldiers stiffened but then relaxed again.

‘Master thief-taker,’ nodded one. Syannis stopped in front of them, in the lamplight pooled in front of the gate. He turned and took his time to look back over the docks.

‘Busy night?’

‘Quiet. You got business here?’

‘Yes.’ Berren had never heard a lie slip well off his master’s tongue, but he was hearing it now. Selling silk and honey, old Hatchet would have said. ‘Questions for our harbour-masters. A few answers too.’

‘They’ll be out and in their cups by now.’ The guards exchanged a laugh as they stood aside. The thief-taker lingered for a few moments longer and then walked on between them, down a vaulted passage that led into a large open square. They paused there, in the shadows. Berren looked around, taking it all in. The buildings here weren’t like the rest of the docks. They were smaller and made of stone, with chimneys and windows that made them look like people actually lived in them. Some of them even had lanterns burning over the doors and snuffers slouching outside them. The snuffers up here were supposed to be even worse than the ones on Reeper Hill.

‘These houses belong to the factors for the merchant princes,’ murmured Master Sy as he scanned the darkness. ‘The Headsman comes up here every morning. He goes to the House of Records. That’s where the harbour-masters keep all the logs of which ships are in the harbour, when they arrived, when they’re leaving, that sort of thing. They keep their manifests there too, but they also have strongrooms with iron doors and the best locks in the city. There for anyone who can afford them.’

Berren screwed his face up. ‘Master?’

‘The Headsman’s keeping something in there. Something too precious to keep with him at the Two Cranes but not something he can keep on his ship. I want to know what it is.’

A realisation bloomed in Berren’s head. ‘If you knew what was on each of the ships, you’d know which ones were worth stealing from …’

Master Sy was laughing. ‘You’re about two years late, lad.’

‘Eh?’

‘VenDormen.’

Berren shuddered. VenDormen was the man who’d tried to have them killed, a harbour-master who’d been running a gang of pirates on the quiet.

‘He was selling secrets from the House of Records. So now you see why only the harbour-masters and the most trusted officers of the merchant guild have a key. Yet my one-eyed friend has one too. And now so do I. Did he steal his? Did someone give it to him? If they did, who? And why? Tonight we find some answers.’

Berren scratched his nose. ‘So we’re … we
are
looking for pirates again. Are we?’

He knew at once that he was wrong. For a moment he thought Master Sy would get angry with him, but all the thief-taker did was shake his head. ‘No, Berren, I have an idea there’s more to this than simple theft.’ He laughed. ‘Mind you, there might not be. The Headsman wasn’t much more than a pirate when I knew him last. Could be money in this. You might get a few coppers or even a crown or two for catching a pickpocket. But merchants
hate
pirates. Catch Raider Yammek, and there’s a reward of a hundred emperors to be had.’

‘A hundred!’ Berren felt himself go cold. ‘That’s enough to …’

‘Quite.’ Master Sy put a finger to his lips and dropped to a crouch. ‘Enough to buy a really
good
sword. Now, do you see that each door has a coat of arms over it?’

Berren nodded, not daring to speak.

‘Those are the coats of arms of the merchant houses. They shelter behind the Emperor’s swords. But that one there …’ Master Sy pointed to a dark corner of the square. ‘Through that arch and down the end of another alley is the House of Records itself. Down there you’ll find the arms of the Overlord of Deepwater. Do you think you can get there without anyone seeing you?’

Berren nodded again.

‘Take the keys. One of them will fit the lock. I’ll keep these snuffers busy. Best if you don’t let them see you. Once you’re in the alley it should be dark enough, but you need to be quiet, lad. Stay close to the door when you’re inside. Stay quiet and wait for me. I won’t be long.’

‘But won’t they see
you
, master?’

‘Why yes, I think they will.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Got to make sure the Headsman finds out what I’m up to somehow, eh lad? But best if they think it’s only me. Just in case.’

‘But the guards on the gate! They already saw me!’

The thief-taker shook his head. ‘Imagine you’re the Headsman. Imagine you have the choice of bribing a few of the Emperor’s men or a few snuffers. Which would you choose?’ The answer to that was obvious – snuffers were swords for hire and people paid them for their eyes all the time. The Emperor’s soldiers, they were a different matter.

Master Sy smiled. ‘Exactly. He won’t even think of it. Now: once we’re inside, you keep quiet and you keep out of the way. Someone will come, one of the Headsman’s henchmen. They’ll bring snuffers of their own and I don’t know how many. Whatever you see tonight, you keep it to yourself. If anything happens to me, you tell Kol and no one else, no matter what it is or what happens or who asks you. Got that?’

Berren nodded. This was the sort of thing Master Hatchet might once have told him to do, only with vastly more ambition. He set his sights on the door. In his head, he worked his way back to where he stood, darting from shadow to shadow. Another thrill of excitement shuddered inside him – this was more like thieving than thief-taking, and it was the most fun he’d had in … Probably since he’d stolen away on that boat to Siltside.

He took one last careful look at the snuffers guarding the various doorways. They looked bored and sleepy. None of them were alert or on the lookout. Then he moved, slipping around the fringes of the lamplight, careful to stay in the shadows, closer and closer until he reached the darkness of the alley. No one stopped him. No one shouted after him. He heard Master Sy talking to a snuffer somewhere and then he slipped down the alley. It was short, just leading to another door that was almost lost in the night. He looked up at the coat of arms above him – a dark triangle on a pale field. In the starlight, he couldn’t see the eagle but he didn’t need to. These weren’t simply the arms of the city Overlord, they were the arms of the Emperor himself! He fingered the golden token around his neck and smiled. Would the prince who’d given it to him approve? Probably not, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

His fingers felt around the edges of the door until they found the lock. As quickly as he could, he went through the keys until he found the one that fitted. Then he opened the door and slipped inside, tip-toeing quickly, room to room, checking to be sure he was alone. There were two large downstairs rooms at the front, four small ones on the first floor, four more on the second. They were all empty. A single passage led into the back of the house, pitch black stone walls lined with strong heavy doors. Each one carried a coat of arms. Berren traced them with his fingers. He could picture them – the symbols of the city merchant houses. The doors were all locked. He wondered whether to try some more of the keys, then thought better of it.

A moment later, Master Sy was at the door. He was limping again.

‘Well done!’ he said. Berren swelled with pride. ‘Good work.’

‘I looked. There’s no one else here. Didn’t see much though. Just lots of paper.’