Bloodhound

by Tamora Pierce

  "But I'll miss breakfast with my friends," I complained.

  "So you will," he said. "I am missing breakfast with my lady. Is Pounce around?"

  Pounce trotted through the door between my feet, meowing a greeting.

  "We'll wait downstairs," Tunstall said.

  Pounce led him away while I closed the door. I dressed in cityfolk clothes, long blue tunic over undyed breeches, half mot, half cove. The garments stuck to my skin before I even put my boots on. I did my hair in my long braid but left out the spiked strap so I might pin it up in a maidenly coil. And I fetched my basket. Tunstall didn't think to bring one. He was a bachelor. He took his meals at eating houses and seldom shopped for food. He wouldn't know folk no more went to the baker without a basket or bag than they went naked. There was no use telling the world we had Dog business there.

  Tansy's baker, Garnett, had his shop on Stuvek Street. Pounce curled up outside the door while we went inside and looked around. It was a prosperous-looking shop. Apprentices worked his counters, whilst Garnett supervised the money box. There were the guards on each side of him, just as Tansy had said. They were a pair of rushers who had seen more shining days, but doubtless they were good enough for a baker.

  The moment he saw us, Garnett was on his feet. Mayhap we still looked like Dogs, in or out of uniform. "What may I do for you?" he asked, polite enough. Then he got a good look at Tunstall and knew him.

  Tunstall smiled. "We'd like a word, Garnett. No trouble, just a word, mayhap three."

  The baker looked at me and sighed. "Your hair's too long and it ain't black, so you ain't Goodwin. You must be Cooper. Bad luck either way."

  I kept silent. I'm not chatty with strangers when I'm not dressed as a Dog.

  Garnett called for one of the counter folk to take the cash box and ordered the guards to stay with it. Then he led us into the back room. It was small and godless hot, a place for light bookkeeping only. A feeble breeze came through the slats in the shutter. Garnett took the comfortable chair behind the desk. Tunstall had a chair. I had to lean against the wall.

  Garnett looked up at me, then at Tunstall. "What brings two Evening Watch Dogs to my place so early of their day? I doubt it's for the baking, for all you carry a basket."

  "A Birdie told us you've hired guards because folk are slipping you coles," Tunstall said agreeably. "Now we've seen the guards for our own eyes, right, Cooper? And we're curious. Jane Street has had no report from you. When did you find you were receiving coles?"

  Garnett drooped in his chair. "Me and my wife check the coin. We do it every week, afore we sort out taxes and pay and expenses and the like. Three weeks runnin' we found a few coles in the week's takings. We used to check one in ten. That first bad week it were fifteen coles in all, so we decided to check three in ten. The next week we found twenty-seven. Then we checked all our coin, startin' two weeks back. Last week it were fifty-five, more'n half the week's gain. That's when I hired the guards, to keep folk from causin' violence when I caught them in the shop."

  "What did you do with the coles you had?" Tunstall wanted to know. "You didn't report them."

  Garnett turned white and looked at the floor.

  I tapped my foot on the tiles.

  "Cooper," Tunstall said.

  It would be in here, somewhere. He'd need it close so he could put the dry coins back in the money box. I went around and yanked open the drawers of the desk. Garnett started to grab me, until he saw Tunstall clean his nails with his dagger. Then Garnett just covered his face with his hands.

  I found the jar of silver paint and the brush in his bottom drawer. I put them on top of the desk.

  "You painted silver over the bronze cut in the coles. Then you paid out the false coins to someone else as good ones," Tunstall said. "You've committed colemongering yourself, Garnett. What you say from now on decides whether you visit Magistrate's Court or not. Who has tried to pass coles to you that you can name?"

  "Mistress Tansy Lofts had two. A journeyman carpenter buyin' for one of the weekly guild suppers had five. That came from the guild's own fund, so they'll do the reportin' of it to the kennel." He sighed again. "I s'pose you're wantin' to speak with the others? I only have the names of six." He looked at Tunstall, who gave him a pleasant smile. Garnett took a scrap of parchment from a pile of them, uncapped the ink bottle, and picked up a quill. He made his letters carefully. I guessed he'd not been writing so long as to be comfortable at it.

  Tunstall watched him for a moment, then looked at me and raised his brows. I got the hint and asked, "Have you recorded the extra coppers you made them pay as a penalty? For your Crown tax?"

  Garnett's hand jumped. He left a streak from the parchment straight onto his leather blotter.

  "Cooper, you startled him," Tunstall said with mock reproach.

  Tansy hadn't mentioned Garnett making her pay a fine. She must have been too ashamed of having coles to say he'd charged extra so she might leave without him calling the Dogs. But it was a reasonable guess. He had to get money for his guards somehow. From the way he'd jumped, he'd not set any of it aside for the King's taxes or for the Dogs' Happy Bag. Naughty baker.

  Garnett blotted the line of ink. He was sweating beyond what the heat called for. "Of course I kept the record," he muttered. "Why shouldn't I charge a fee, when I've been given false coin? I have to make up all the money I'm out, after takin' in so many coles before!"

  "He lies," I said. "He no more kept a record of it than he reported the coles he got."

  Garnett wiped his face on his sleeve.

  "Tell the truth, now, Master Baker. It will do you good," Tunstall prodded.

  "I didn't record it," the baker said.

  "There – that's better. How much is your fee?" Tunstall asked.

  Garnett sighed. "Five coppers." He didn't have the air of a liar this time.

  "Half a silver! You've a granite set," Tunstall said.

  Garnett hung his head. "Better half a silver noble to me than several silver to the cage Dogs, and the court Dogs, and maybe a bath in boilin' oil despite all they pay," he said. "I know my neighbors ain't colesmiths, but Dogs is hard, suspicious sorts. They haul you in, and things get expensive and painful fast."

  Tunstall picked up the list. "Six names. That's not so bad." He gave the paper to me and stood. Then he leaned on Garnett's little desk so that he towered over the shrinking baker. "Not a word to anyone, Garnett. Or me and Cooper and Goodwin will visit you again. Start recording that fee you charge, for the tax and the Happy Bag. And send what coles you have left to Jane Street. We know it's hard to find you're getting paid in bronze for hard work. But you don't want us chewing at your ass."

  Tunstall never raised his voice. He hardly even growled. Garnett would no more warn the folk who'd paid him in coles than he would eat his own hand. Having six-odd feet of sleepy-eyed barbarian looming over them did influence people to do as they were bid.

  Outside, we found Pounce waiting. He followed us into the shade of a nearby tree. Tunstall gave him an ear scratching while I looked at Garnett's list.

  "We already know about Mistress Tansy, so we needn't worry her," Tunstall said when I gave the paper back to him.

  "My cousin Philben is on that list," I said. "And this Urtiz fellow doesn't live so far from my lodgings."

  "Seek out at least one before watch today and talk to him like a neighbor," Tunstall said. "I'll see who I can find out of the other three names. Don't tire yourself out." He looked at the sun, shading his eyes with his hand. "It's going to be cursed hot again. You'll need your strength for duty tonight, and I'm sure you have errands and such."

  "It's no bother," I told him. "I don't have anything special to do."

  Maybe, and maybe not, Pounce said at my feet. Maybe I have plans for you.

  This was one of those times when Tunstall understood him. "Do they involve me, hestaka?" Tunstall asked. Ever since Pounce saved his life at Midwinter, Tunstall has called him hestaka. It means "wise one" in Hurdik.
That's what Tunstall calls the hillman speech. Whenever Tunstall says hestaka, Pounce fluffs up his chest and looks smug.

  No. My plans include only Beka, Pounce replied.

  "Then I will leave you to your day. Cooper, don't let your guard down with that cousin. Even family goes wrong."

  "I know that," I said as Tunstall turned to leave. "Tunstall?" He looked back. "I know we promised, but... will you really let Garnett off? By my rough count he's sent at least one hundred and four bad silver coins back into the city's money. There's probably more that he didn't mention. Men have gone to Execution Hill for less."

  Tunstall patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Cooper. I just didn't want him scaring our six into running before we talk to them. I will give Day Watch the word to pick up Master Baker Garnett this afternoon. He'll be spared the worst. We'll speak for him. But he'll tell the cage Dogs everyone he passed those coles to, if he wants to walk or use his hands easily again."

  I nodded, feeling better. Garnett knew as well as any that the more bad coins got into a city's money, the shakier all our money got, yet he'd looked after himself first. He would have to pay for that.

  "Off you go, Cooper. I'll see you at four." Tunstall ambled down the street, hands in his pockets. He looked every inch the country cove enjoying the city, if you didn't notice his body was set so that if someone hit him from the side, he wouldn't be knocked over. I would have bet a week's pay his eyes were roving, taking in everything around him. Dogs don't survive in the Lower City, on duty or off, without paying attention. Of course, as long as Tunstall's been a Dog, he's never really off duty.

  I still had Pounce to manage. "What's this you're telling me about plans?" A passing gaggle of lads stared at the girl who talked to her cat. I glared at them. They laughed and raced on by me.

  We set off down the street, Pounce trotting at my side. You think too much, that's your problem. Have I led you astray before?

  I could think of dozens of times that his advice had gotten me into trouble. "Yes." I wiped my forehead on my sleeve.

  You're being petty. You always come out all right.

  "I had the highest healer's bill of any Puppy in Corus," I reminded him. "How many broken bones and slashes have I gotten because you yowled, 'This way'?"

  Yet you preen like a pigeon when they call you Terrier. You don't mind the bruises and cuts then.

  "Why do I argue with a cat?" I always ask myself that, when I know there's only one answer: I don't learn. I can't even say it's because he's a talking cat. He's a cat, and cats just aren't reasonable. "Cousin Phil's likely to be hiring out at the Daymarket, this time of year." We turned onto Jane Street. "Best catch him there. If Delene hears of him gambling, she's liable to lay him out with a pot."

  'Twas then I heard a four-legged dog yelp. I looked about us. Across the street I saw the scent hound Achoo with her newest handler, Ercole Hempstead. Hempstead yanked at the hound's leash, dragging her when she clearly did not wish to go. My tripes twisted in pity for her. Achoo had been her happiest last year, when she'd been handled by my friend Phelan Rapp. Then Phelan had quit the Dogs to join Rosto's side of the law. Achoo had gone from one handler to another, each of them less patient with her than the last, though veteran Dogs always said that when she was put on a scent, she never failed to track down what she was asked to find. I'd heard that she hated hound kennel life after living with Phelan in his rooms, but all of her other handlers insisted that hounds be kenneled. And it seemed that they didn't have the right character to match with hers. Given my own record with partners, I felt plenty of sympathy for her.

  Watching her now, I thought that Achoo looked like she just wanted to sniff around where she stood. Who could blame her? She was a scent hound. But Hempstead was having none of it. He raised the free end of the leash and struck her with it. She yelped, cowering. He was a big, burly man, and she was a skinny creature who stood no higher than his knee. That blow must have hurt.

  I ground my teeth. "Festering slavemonger's byblow...," I whispered. I'd like to give him the end of that rawhide!

  Will you do something? Pounce demanded.

  I looked at Pounce. "He's a ranking Senior Dog, and a handler. He'll order me about my business."

  Another yelp from Achoo hit me between my shoulder blades.

  If you don't stop him, you are not the girl I believe you to be.

  "You do sommat, you're so clever," I muttered, but Achoo's whimpers called me across the street. I dug my hands in my pockets as I approached them. "Excuse me, Senior Guardsman Hempstead," I said. "I know this hound. She does better with gentleness."

  He glared at me. He was going to write me up, I could see it on his face. "Mithros's shield, you dare – ah. Goodwin's pet. Tunstall's girly. Think you're as good as a Senior Dog and experienced handler, do you?"

  I ducked my head. "No, sir. Only, I was told you got this hound but a week ago, and I've known her in times past." Achoo slunk past Hempstead to nudge my hand. I took it from my pocket to pet her ears. A glance told me she was hard-used and half starved. Her curly white fur was matted. She used to weigh more than thirty pounds, but she looked like she might weigh only twenty now. I felt cold all over. I cannot abide anyone who mistreats animals. "Sir, she likes to stop and smell things, when she's not on the job. For fun, like, or practice."

  "She's got no discipline. She's useless! Won't obey a command in plain Common instead of some foreign jabber! No sense of who's master!" He leaned in. I could smell the drink on him. He was swilled, and the hour not even noon. "Just like you. Terrier." He laughed.

  "She's a good worker. She's one of the city's best scent hounds." I hate tosspots. 'Twas a drunkard got one of my friends killed when we was Puppies. "She deserves better even if she is silly off watch. Plenty of us are silly off watch, Senior Guardsman." I stepped on thin ice, but Achoo licked my hand like I was her only friend. Her ribs showed through her coat.

  "Then I'll just tell Sergeant Ahuda you've the handling of her, eh?" He grabbed my hand and shoved Achoo's leash into it. "You, all untrained in scent hounds, you can work this miserable scut. They should sell her for bear meat anyway. You work her, then come tell me my trade. We'll see how clever you are!"

  He walked off, laughing.

  I'm glad he's gone, Pounce said. A man like him should fall into a midden and break both legs. His tail switched to and fro. Maybe I'll take a little trouble and arrange it.

  I stared at Pounce, wondering if I ought to say he should not joke about such things. I thought the better of it and raised the leash in my hand to look it over. Achoo shrank back. She feared her own leash. To Achoo it wasn't just a tool of her trade anymore. It was a tool for punishment.

  I saw her cower and decided to wait until later for a word with Pounce. Right now this poor hound had been passed to yet another strange new handler.

  I crouched so our eyes were on a level. "No, it's all right, Achoo." I ran my hands over her as gently as I could. She had welts on her poor body. There would be no combing her fur. Those mats had to be cut off. As she stuck her nose in my ear, I glared at Pounce. "This is your doing." I said it quiet, so as not to frighten the creature under my hands.

  But at least I'll help. Pounce came over and sat at my side. Achoo lowered her nose until it touched his. She took a sniff and sneezed three times.

  You're going to be all right now, as long as you listen to Beka and to me, Pounce told her. Beka growls, but she feeds her animals first. And she'll let you smell whatever you like.

  Achoo looked at me, then nudged Pounce with her nose. He stumbled backward.

  None of that, Pounce warned. Treat me with respect. I'm not an ordinary cat.

  "You're cat meat if you foist any more creatures on me, scent hounds or no," I told him. "I'm not a trained handler. Doubtless they'll just take her from me again." I was trying to decide how I might bathe Achoo without hurting her. And there was still my cousin Philben to find. How do my days get so busy?

  We went home, to begin by get
ting a meal into the poor starved beast. I was feeding Achoo meat pasties I'd crumbled into a bowl of fresh goat's milk when I heard feet on my stairs.

  Kora looked in. "We missed you at breakfast. What's this – another creature?" she asked, with a nod for the pigeons that fed on corn at my windowsill, as well as at the cat and hound. Then she noted Achoo's condition. "Beka, what happened to this poor animal?"

  Once I told her Achoo's story, Kora ordered me to leave the hound to her. I was glad to do it. Kora has a way with creatures and, unlike her preparations for humans, her animal medicines work. Since Pounce had given Kora Fuzzball, she had collected a second cat, a pup, and a pair of lovebirds. Ersken said he couldn't wait until they moved into the Dancing Dove. There was scarce room in Kora's bed for him. She was a fine one to talk about my creatures! At least the pigeons don't live with me and Pounce.

  "You won't know her when you see her again," Kora told me as I left her with Achoo. "Hempstead, you said her handler's name was?"

  "Kora, don't you go magicking any Guardsmen," I warned her. "No matter how much they might deserve it. It's not the kind of thing I can turn a blind eye to."

  Kora gave me a sidelong look as she rubbed Achoo's ears. "Beka, I would never test you that way."

  I snorted. Then I looked at Pounce. "Are you coming?"

  I will stay with Achoo, he said. Until she knows Kora better. I can translate. You won't need me to talk to your cousin.

  "She has a cousin?" I heard Kora ask as I went out the door.

  Several, Pounce replied. Most of her family on her father's side did not like it that she lived at Provost's House, or that she became a Dog. They prefer that she stay away.

  "Tell all my secrets, why don't you?" I called as I rattled down the stairs. I felt uneasy in my tripes, though not about Pounce speaking to Kora of my family. It was Kora being clever about Hempstead that worried me. I know full well that Kora might do something devious to the handler, if Pounce does not.

  On the other hand, he deserves to be punished somehow. What I don't know won't hurt me.