Skate the Thief

by Jeff Ayers

  Barrison demurred. “If you say so. What will you do?”

  “I’ll have to get back in contact, I suppose. Lady Flandel knows him, so she must know how to reach him. That will be the end of it. I may even be able to get my books back.”

  Skate brought her hands up in silent celebration. This was amazing news; she had managed, on her own, to push a client into the hands of the Ink whom the Big Boss had taken a personal interest in. The Boss would be thrilled, and the King of Thieves in the city of Caribol would know her name and would be glad of her service.

  “A small price to pay for my peace of mind.”

  “Jack, no,” Belamy said, his voice sad. “There’s no need to fall in league with these people. You’ll never be free of them if you agree to their demands. You’ll be under their thumb until they say otherwise, which will never happen so long as you pay more money.”

  “What am I to do, Barrison? They know where I live. They’ve shown that they can get in and out whenever they please. I’m not safe.”

  You will be with the Ink, Skate thought. She whispered, “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” hoping Belamy would let the matter drop.

  “Let me investigate further. Let me be the one to contact Lady Flandel about Hajime and the rest. I don’t mind meeting with ruffians; I can handle myself, even in old age.”

  “Oh, Barrison, no, I can’t ask you—it’s far too dangerous, and not your problem—out of the question—”

  “Jack.” Belamy’s voice had grown harder. More resolute. “I will be contacting the lady, and I will be investigating this on your behalf. Go home, and keep your door locked. Hire a wizard to ward your place from unwanted intrusions; I know you can afford it.”

  At the top of the stairs, Skate was pulling her hair in frustration. “No,” she hissed to herself, “take it back, take it back, shut up, shut up.” Belamy was going to ruin everything with his insistence on “borrowing,” and now he was trying to keep his friend from falling into the Ink to boot. “It’s his problem, shut up, shut up.”

  By the time she had quieted her muttering to the point that she could hear, Jack was already out the door, his voice heavy with emotion. He was thanking Belamy over and over again, promising to stay at home and shield himself better, and so on. “You don’t know what a weight this is off of me, Barrison, you really don’t,” he said with a sniff as Belamy’s door opened and let in a blast of cold air.

  “I have some idea,” Belamy said, gently corralling Gherun out the door and shutting it when he was gone. He walked back to his desk and, after a few minutes, called out for Skate.

  She sighed before answering. “What?” she asked, adding you bloody fool in her mind after the question.

  “Oh,” he said, looking at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t see her from his position, but her voice must have clued him in that she was very close. “Come on down; your breakfast is almost ready. We need to talk about getting Jack’s books back to him.”

  Skate let her head hit the wall before she stood up and walked down to meet her tutor and benefactor. The smell coming from the kitchen was very inviting; fresh-baked dough wafted through the half-open door, and an unfamiliar sweet smell came with it. Belamy was sitting at his desk, Ossertine’s book open in front of him. He had only a few more pages to get to the end of the text.

  He looked up at her approach. “How long were you at the top of the stairs?”

  “Long enough to hear about thieves and messages and payments,” she said, more grumpily than she intended.

  “Hmm. And do you know anything about the people he’s talking about? I imagine you’d at least have encountered some rogues of their like in your time on the streets.”

  She chose her words with care. “I’d heard the name ‘Hajime.’ Your friend is right to call that guy dangerous. Anytime I heard anyone talk about him, they said he was ruthless and smart. He must’ve went after your friend because he’s rich. Hajime’s supposed to be in charge of a lot of thieves and tough guys. If he said he wanted Gherun’s money, he’s gonna want that money still.”

  “Well, well,” Belamy said with a sigh of his own, “but that’s a problem of its own. We’ll at least be able to get his books back to him. After I’ve had time to read them, of course,” he added with a wink. “Speaking of which,” he said as he gestured to the open book in front of him, “it’s almost time to get this back to Laribel.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  He looked at her, his face slightly slack, his mouth parted in confusion. “Well—you’re going to get it back into her home.”

  “I am?”

  “Of course you are! I can’t very well just hand it to her, can I?” His face had gone from an expression of confusion to consternation. “We talked about this already. I told you they’d need to go back to their owners when I was done with them.”

  “Yeah,” Skate said, turning from him to sit in front of the fire, “you did say that, I remember.”

  “So why are you behaving like you’ve never heard any of this?”

  “I’m just confused; where’d you get the idea that I was supposed to be bringing them back?” She opened and closed her toes in front of the fire. “We never talked about that, I don’t think.”

  “We never—it was implied!”

  “Implied?”

  “Yes, implied. I meant that you were to take them back.”

  “But you never said it?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then how in the world was I supposed to know it?” Her feet were warm enough that she pulled them back and sat cross-legged, watching the wood crackle and burn. “I never agreed to do something like that, and I don’t see how it’s my responsibility to get them back where you want them. One book, one week of shelter or one week of lessons. That was the deal, right?”

  “I—”

  “And that’s what I’ve been working under, and how I’ve paid my way to stay in your home and eat your food.”

  “But—”

  “That was what we agreed on. I never agreed to more, did I?”

  Belamy spluttered, caught by the truth of her words. He stopped and closed his eyes. “This is true. I suppose you never did agree to do more. Your part of the bargain is complete, for housing and education, for three weeks.” He looked up with a half-smile, sardonic and humbled all at once. “What will it take for you to return these to their owners, then?”

  Skate grinned and closed her eyes against the drying effect of the flames. “How about two weeks per book returned?”

  Belamy’s face registered only a moment of surprise, then fell back into his amused expression. “One week per book returned.”

  “Deal.”

  Skate got to her feet as Belamy moved toward her, hand outstretched. She didn’t bother spitting in her hand this time. The handshake was brief and firm from both sides.

  “You knew what I was going to ask for,” she said bluntly as they both let go.

  “I had an idea. I did not expect to need to haggle over the issue, but I feel that you got exactly what you wanted anyway.”

  She shrugged. “Either you’d take the high offer because you were desperate, or you’d haggle over it because you had something we both know I want. No reason not to aim high, right?”

  “You thought this through,” he said, though there was no malice in the accusation. If anything, he sounded amused and surprised. “This was no spontaneous deal, was it?”

  “I’ve always got to be thinking of ways to stay off the street, Bel—Mr. Belamy. This place is better than any other hole I’ve had to sleep in, don’t you doubt it. I’ve never had anyone to make me any kinds of meals before, when they come at all. So, yeah, I’ve been trying to think of how to stay here longer without going back to the streets. You can’t begrudge me for thinking about that in the meantime.”

  “Far from it,” he said, the humor gone from his face. His expression was now blank; there was nothing there to read. “I’m impressed with your foresight. M
ost children your age wouldn’t think that far ahead.”

  “You’d be surprised how many kids there are like me, and how smart they can be. You gotta be smart to survive, Mr. Belamy, make no mistake. Living on the street doesn’t give you a choice.”

  Rattle came into the room carrying a steaming bowl of soup, which it placed on the floor beside Skate. It plopped a spoon into the bowl, and the splash was almost large enough to get on the floor. It floated back into the kitchen to clean up. Skate stirred the soup thoughtlessly for a few moments.

  “You may be right,” Belamy admitted. “But I also know a quick learner when I see one. Your progress learning your letters is quite impressive; with the three weeks ahead of you, I have no doubt you’ll be able to have the basics of reading down. That’s uncommon for someone your age. I’ve taught many people to read over the years, but few have kept your speed and progress. Don’t underestimate your own abilities.”

  “If you say so.” She began slurping the warm broth down by the spoonful, her headache getting lesser and lesser with each swallow. Must be the heat. “Speaking of reading,” she said between slurps, “what are we working on today? More letters?”

  “No, I think you’ve got those. We need to move on to sounds with each letter; I think you’re ready for that.”

  Skate unceremoniously wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her almost new dress. Belamy flinched and muttered some words with a lazy wave of the hand. The food that Skate had left on the inside of the fine sleeve disappeared. “Thanks,” she said, heading toward the stairs.

  “Take better care of that thing,” he called after her. “Are you getting ready for today’s lesson?”

  “Yeah,” she called over her shoulder, “just gimme a minute to get ready.”

  Skate reached her room and pulled out the board and a piece of chalk. She had written the first three letters of the alphabet in gnarled shapes when a loud thud on the window broke her concentration. There was a splash of white powder stuck to the glass. She opened the window and looked out, only to be smacked in the face with another snowball. It was not tightly packed, so it exploded completely on impact.

  Skate spluttered and wiped the snow off her face and hair before glaring down at the alley below. It didn’t take long to find Twitch, looking quite sheepish after his well-aimed throw.

  “S-sorry!” he shouted, and she shushed him.

  In as carrying a whisper as she could manage, she said, “Go away! You’ll ruin everything!”

  “Gotta t-talk,” he said in slightly more subdued tones. “Important stuff.”

  She groaned in frustration, looking from side to side. “Go wait by where we were searching this place out,” she hissed, “and I’ll be there quick. Go!” she said, cutting his response off and slamming her window shut. She went back to wiping any remaining snow off of her, crossing the room to leave. She opened the door to find Rattle and Belamy there, the latter holding a small bound leather book she didn’t recognize.

  “Oh!” he said, surprised that the door opened before he could knock. “Good. Shall we begin?”

  “Uh, no, actually,” she said, sliding past him toward the stairs, “I kinda feel like going for a walk first.”

  “A walk? It’s freezing outside.”

  “Yeah, I know, isn’t it great?” Skate said, babbling in the hopes that he’d just take her word for everything. “It’s always refreshing to be out in the cold, knowing you can come back in, you know? So I’m gonna get some fresh air.” She bounced down the steps toward her boots. “After that, we can do the lesson, okay?”

  “Yes…” Belamy said, giving a questioning look at Rattle, who lifted two legs out to its sides in a passable facsimile of a shrug. “Why is there snow in your hair?”

  “That’s what made me want to go out! I opened my window and flakes were falling and I just couldn’t stand it,” she said as she strained to get the second boot on. “Anyway, it may be a long walk, so I’d just go back to reading, if I were you. Could be out a while, I mean.”

  “Okay.…” He and Rattle had made their way downstairs and were watching her as she swept the heavy coat from the rack. “And everything is all right?”

  “Great! Bye,” she said as she swung the door shut behind her. She missed another concerned look between Belamy and Rattle and another imitation of a shrug as she began tromping into the cold winter day.

  Chapter 13

  In which a report is made, a change of plan occurs, and a brawl breaks out.

  Twitch was right where she’d told him to be, skulking beneath a bowing awning at a diagonal to Belamy’s home. The familiar shock of wiry hair poked out of familiar shabby wrappings, and the familiar smile spread wide at her approach.

  “How you been?” he said, waving her closer. “I haven’t s-seen you in a couple weeks. I was about to get n-nervous.” He was looking her over and picking at her dress with his fingers. “L-looks like I didn’t need to worry. Where’d you get them clothes, then?”

  “The old man paid for them to help with a job.”

  “Nice. He let you k-keep the clothes?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s he gonna do with ’em?”

  “I guess.” He kicked a nearby snow pile. “So, you’re good? No troubles with the old guy?”

  “No, he’s all right. Looking for the big score, still, but I’ve bought myself three more weeks to look.”

  “Th-three weeks?” He ran a hand over his face. “Skate, I think they’re expecting s-something this week.”

  Her mouth fell open—but only briefly. It’s been a week since I’ve talked to them, she reminded herself. It’s no wonder they have expectations for a delivery soon. “Right. I got something to report anyway, so let’s get going.” He didn’t respond beyond looking unsure. “What?” she asked, confused.

  “Skate, if you d-don’t have anything to give them, it’s n-not a good idea to go back.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s not a good idea, Twitchy,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning, “and that’s staying away from the Boss when I promised money and he ain’t seen me in a week. That is a bad idea.”

  He nodded, though not entirely enthusiastically. Brightening slightly, he asked, “Hey, word on the street is someone hit a place by the Baron’s. I know a lotta rich guys live over there, and they got books. Wazzat you?”

  “Yeah, but don’t go spreading that around, you hear? The Guard was buzzing all over looking for me, and I’m sure they’d still love to have a talk if they found out who did it. I’ll tell you about it on the way to the hideout.”

  Their trek through the city streets was a long one, with huge snowdrifts taking minutes to get over or else around on the way. By the time they reached the cellar door, they were both out of breath and red-faced from the exertion of tromping through powder, though Twitch was laughing at Skate’s retelling of her exploits.

  “So w-what is it, anyway?”

  “Rattle? I dunno. It’s something the old man ‘made,’ whatever that means. I’m guessing it’s some sort of magic doll or something that he turned into a living thing. Even though it looks like something you’d have nightmares about, it’s actually really nice. Good cook, too.”

  “I cannot believe you got this fool to cook meals for you.”

  “He doesn’t. Rattle does.”

  They said their hellos to Bart and made their way to the rowdy common area. The snow had driven most of the ruffians indoors to wait for a melt, or for the street to be more cleared by the city. A huge barrel had been set against one wall, and a crowd of men and women shuffled around it, waiting for their turn to pour a drink. A game of darts was on, and someone had brought a guitar. It was playing a merry tune as the thieves and ruffians caroused. The Boss’s door was open, and he was sitting behind his desk, laughing and talking to two people seated across from him; it was difficult to tell looking only at their backs, but they didn’t look familiar.

  She and Twitch made their way toward the Boss’s room but stoppe
d short of it to snag seats at a crowded table near the door. The other brigands were paying them no heed, being too busy joking and arguing and gambling.

  “Do you h-have any good news, then?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I may have got the Ink a new customer, but it’ll take some work to get there.”

  “What? The g-guy you stole from?”

  “Yeah, Gherun’s the name. He thinks the stealing was a message from the Ink to get on board or get out of town. If I keep that up, it’s as good as the real thing, isn’t it?”

  “I g-guess so.”

  “It’s the same thing,” she insisted, irritated at his reluctance, “and the Boss will be glad for the work done. It’s just as good as bringing money myself, ain’t it? Of course it is,” she said, not waiting for a response. “Of course it is.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice, though it remained audible over the general din of the room and the more immediate noise of their tablemates. “And this was a big one, Twitch. The Big Boss himself was intent on making it happen.”

  “How d-do you know that?”

  After she explained Gherun’s story, he whistled and shook his head. “This is b-big important stuff, Skate. Big and important. S-stay smart when you’re talking t-to the Boss. If you bring up the B-Big Boss, it’ll get his attention real quick, and p-probably make him nervous.” He nodded at the door as the Boss’s two guests shuffled out.

  Skate was right; she didn’t know either of the leather-clad men who emerged.

  “G-good luck.”

  Skate slapped the table lightly and stood up with a grin. “Thanks, Twitch.” She knocked on the Boss’s open door, and he waved her in, the smile from the last meeting still hanging on his face. At least I caught him in a good mood. She slipped in and sat in one of the vacated chairs. “Hey, Boss.”

  “Hey, yourself, my little spy. How goes the inspection of the old man’s home?” The gravelly voice was as congenial as it had been when he’d been speaking to his guests. He’s not too mad, I guess.