Bloodhound

by Tamora Pierce

  The folk that stood or sat closest to the hearth, about ten feet from Goodwin and me, were them that had the power here. There was a large open space around them, for one. For another, two guards with crossbows stood on either side of the hearth. Another stood at the back of the woman who sat in a rich, heavily cushioned chair placed beside the small fire.

  I deliberately looked past her, because I knew the moment I saw her she was Pearl Skinner and she was going to be granite to the marrow. I'll say she is forty-five or forty-six, lean and fit. She would have to be, to still be alive and Rogue in Port Caynn. Her hair is like straw, yellow and brittle. I'd wager she killed whoever sold her the dye for it. Her eyes are large, dark, and quick, her nose long and straight. Her upper lip is near invisible, the lower lip full. She's got strong cheekbones. She dresses like a hillwoman, with a sleeveless overrobe covered with embroideries. Her dress was a rich blue silk, slit high up both sides. I could see black leggings through one slit, and black boots with dagger hilts all about the rims. Two hilts thrust from her sash, and I saw the prints of three dagger hilts along one of her sleeves. She wore dangling earrings but no necklaces, nothing an enemy could use to choke her. She did have a lot of rings for a knife fighter.

  Beside her sat an older, white-skinned cove armed with a longsword. He wore his brown hair cropped two inches short. There were silver strands in his neat beard. On the mot's other side a younger Bazhir warrior sat. His long black hair was combed straight back and tied in a horsetail. At his waist he wore a slightly curved longsword.

  The doxie walked up to the dais and stood next to Pearl, like a lady-in-waiting. "The two Dogs you wanted," she said, like we were a load of wheat she was delivering. The room went quiet.

  Pearl tapped her fingers on the arm of her fancy chair. "Speak up," she said in a voice that brought Achoo's hackles up again. "Who by plague are you two? Ye're not Caynn Dogs. You come swaggerin' into my city, pokin' yer fambles in my banks, interferin' with my people a-doin' their jobs – "

  Movement to my right caught my attention. Over by the bar the gixie pickpocket I'd caught earlier was ducking out of sight.

  "Ye'll look at me, young mistress!" Pearl barked. I looked at her, keeping my temper gripped tight. Pearl leaned forward. "Yes, you interfered in that bit o' my interest, and ye'll tell me why! How do I even know ye're Dogs? Any cracknob can stitch up a uniform." She grinned at us, showing teeth. The fool trull had paid to have some of them mage-changed to pearls. Even though they'd doubtless break sooner or later, she had teeth in her head made of real pearls next to others that were gray and dying. I've never seen such a waste in all my days!

  "They be true Dogs, Majesty, right enough," a man called from the back of the room. He got up and came toward us with the kind of solid gait that told a knowing eye he could walk all day at need. I remembered him – it was Steen, the cove who'd known so much about riot fountains and freezing spells. He looked just as I remembered him, dark-haired and dark-eyed, built like a badger with a wide head, wide shoulders, and thick arms. He's got a very thin beard that forms a circle around his mouth and chin, and he wears his hair close-cropped like the mot who'd helped to bring us here. His nose was broad and slumped, as if someone had hit it. "From the Lower City in Corus. Guardswoman Cooper, might you be rememberin' me – ah, I see that you do. Corporal Guardswoman Goodwin, good day. Steen Bolter. We met in th' riot."

  Goodwin pointed to his beard. "I thought that thing was a mustache."

  He chuckled and smoothed his thumb and forefinger over his beard. "Eh, some days it is, some it's longer. Hanse says I can't decide whether t' grow it nor give it a decent funeral." He looked at Pearl again. "They was hip deep in the Bread Riot I told yez about, Majesty. Hanse says it's a pleasure t' see these mots work."

  "Hanse knows them?" Pearl asked. She used drinking from a tankard to hide the expression on her face.

  "Helped 'em get their partner out first off. He'd broke both legs, poor cove. I'll ask after him at supper," Steen told Goodwin. "Hanse said we'll meet up. If Her Majesty's done wiv ye, a' course." He nodded at Pearl.

  "What makes ye think I'll be done with these two?" she snapped, slamming her tankard down on a small table at her side. "That one" – she pointed at me – "snagged one o' my gixies at her work this mornin'! I know what you two bitches are doin', sniffin' about my turf."

  Both me and Goodwin stiffened at that. Every Dog has insults thrown at her head, but none of us mots like to be called a bitch. Rogue or no, Pearl was trusting her luck to a bridge made of straws.

  "You don't care for that, do ye, bitches?" Pearl asked. "But ye'll take it from me. Think I don't know how cuddlesome ye are with Rosto the Piper? Ye're here diggin' for Corus's own Rogue, Rebakah Cooper, lookin' for breaks in my shields!"

  Goodwin looked at her nails and sighed. "We are here on assignment to the Deputy Lord Provost," she said patiently. "Our Rogue doesn't give us orders, any more than you do. We're not looking for a fight with you, though if one is requested, we might ask our hosts what the Port rules are about such things."

  A scared-looking maid bustled over with a fresh tankard. She handed it to Pearl, who took a big swallow, then wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist. When she spoke, she sounded calmer. "Ye don't spook easy, do ye? I've had grown men wet themselves when I screeched like that."

  "I'm not surprised," Goodwin replied.

  Pearl gave her a thin smile. "I see ye're not, nor the quiet one, there. Does she talk?"

  "When it matters," Goodwin said.

  Pearl set her tankard aside and leaned forward, her hands on her knees. "It matters now, and don't ye mistake me," she warned Goodwin. "Cooper here got in the way of my business this mornin', and I'll know why."

  Goodwin looked at me, wanting me to speak up.

  I said, "The gixie was breaking the law. She stole a purse, and I caught her. I returned it to her coney, but she had a rusher guarding her back. She escaped me." I wasn't going to say I'd noticed the purse I returned was full of coles, nor that it was not the one that got stolen. It seemed like a very bad time to bring those things up.

  "We do our work, Mistress Pearl, just as you do yours," Goodwin said.

  Pearl rubbed a pearl tooth with one finger. "Clear off, Steen."

  Steen tipped his hand to Goodwin and me. "See you over supper, I hope." He ambled off to where he'd sat before.

  Then Pearl said, quiet-like, "How much would it cost me to make you two forget your orders, where it comes to interferin' with my business?" She was a brass-bottomed trollop, thinking she could buy us where the Rogue before Rosto and Rosto himself had failed!

  Achoo caught my mood and growled. I leaned forward, about to spit on the floor, when Goodwin placed her hand on my arm.

  "Cooper, manners," she said quietly, and gave my arm a little squeeze. She looked at Pearl. "These young folk are hotheaded. Of course we have to say no." Goodwin sighed. "We just got here, after all. How much trouble can two lone..." Her mouth twisted. Then she went on, "How much trouble can two lone bitches, off their hunting grounds, give? Doubtless this morning was only a fluke. You'll hardly know we were here." She let go of my arm and patted it. "Of course, if we did turn out to be trouble, you might want to offer higher than you were about to."

  Pearl stared Goodwin in the eye for a long moment.

  I hate playing the part of a loose Dog.

  "Was I you, I'd stay blind to any Rogue doin's you might trip over, both of ye," Pearl said, her voice low. "Ask Nestor Haryse what I do to them that cross me. Ask 'im – " Suddenly she stopped. The Bazhir and the longsword man got to their feet, drawing their blades. "What's that racket?" Pearl demanded.

  The guards moved up to stand at Pearl's back, their own weapons ready. Everyone in the room with a weapon had it out as the door opposite the bar flew open. We could hear shouting as Nestor and five other Dogs poured into the room.

  "We don't want trouble, Pearl," Nestor said, his voice booming above the noise. "But we'll trouble you to hand
our friends back to us." He looked at Goodwin and me, then at the knot of guards that circled the Rogue. "Naughty, to go helping yourself to my people."

  Pearl got to her feet and shoved her guards aside. "Cooper interfered in my business, and my folk had no way of knowin' who she was," she snapped. "I wasn't told two strange bitches would be crawlin' over my city, pokin' their noses where they pleased."

  "No need to be harsh, Majesty," Nestor said, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "Is this how we want visitors to the city to see us, all crude and nasty-like? Doubtless you know by now that Corporal Guardswoman Goodwin and Guards-woman Cooper are here to study our methods. They'll be going freely about the city, with Sir Lionel's permission. And now that you know they're here, and I'm watching over them, there's no need to pop them off the street like this." His face went hard and dangerous in a way I'd never seen before. "In fact, if you think you've a Dog problem, in future? You'd do well to call Dogs to handle it."

  Pearl's jaw clenched. "You get above yourself, Sergeant."

  "I remember how things are done," he replied. "It's you who seems to have forgot."

  I held my breath. Achoo was pressed against my leg, her muscles tight. I don't think anyone in that room dared to breathe until Pearl waved at Goodwin and me and snapped, "Take them out of here."

  We walked to the open door and into a long hall, three of Nestor's folk in front of us, two more and Nestor behind. We passed through a second, smaller room where more Rats sat or stood, watching us. I whistled under my breath. Nestor had a sack, to walk in here with less than a full company of Dogs.

  We passed through a final pair of open doors into the street. I was startled to find the sun had just reached the noon mark. Goodwin looked around, getting her bearings, same as I did.

  "Eagle Street," one of the other Dogs said, guessing what she was about. "Three blocks into Lowdown below Moneychangers' Street. Pearl don't hold court here all the time, though. Some days she's up in Gauntlet, some days Riverdocks, some days here."

  "Not very trustin', Pearlie," a mot with Senior Dog insignia said with a laugh.

  "No more should she be," one of the coves muttered. "Were she a cat, she'd have but two lives left. Folk've been tryin' t' kill Pearl Skinner since she was born."

  Looking around, I saw a lad in a brown tunic and leather sandals standing at the corner. The boy was eleven or twelve, with brown hair and dark eyes. His face was naught to remember if you only caught a glimpse of it. Seeing our tracker full on like this, I recognized Nestor's serving lad Haden easily. I nudged Goodwin.

  She looked where I did. "Did you put your boy on our trail?" she asked Nestor.

  Nestor waved Haden over. He trotted up to us. "Did you think I'd let you amble off with no way to call for help?" Nestor asked, raising his eyebrows. "How did you know you were tracked? No one ever spots Haden."

  The boy shrugged. "They did. They knew I was about afore they got t' th' docks," he said. "It hurt me pride, but they didn't fuss, so I stayed wif 'em. Figgered you'd beat me if I didn't, sir." He actually winked at me, the scamp.

  Nestor looked at the Dogs who had come with him. "I think we're good. See you at muster out."

  "Nice meetin' you two," one of them said. "Watch your backs." The other Dogs murmured their goodbyes and walked down the street, scanning already for Rats.

  I glanced at Nestor, and at Haden. I am beginning to wonder who runs Nestor's house, him, or Haden and his sister.

  "I suggest that Haden keeps trailing you," Nestor told us. "I hope Pearl leaves you be, but hope is like spring snow around her. It melts fast. Better to have Haden watch your back."

  "At the least we owe Haden a meal," Goodwin replied. "And I was going to show Cooper around Flowerbed before we went back to the lodging."

  Nestor smiled. "A busy first day. Will you take supper with us again?"

  "We have a supper engagement at the Merman's Cave," Goodwin told him. "We ran into an acquaintance from Corus who invited us there."

  Nestor whistled. "Interesting acquaintance. See to your afternoon, then. Will you have reports for me?"

  Goodwin nodded. "Send someone tricky to pick them up?" she asked. "About five of the clock?"

  "Me sister Truda can do it," Haden told us cheerfully. "She's a mouse, that 'un. Ye'll never see her comin' nor goin'."

  "It'll always be Haden or Truda making the daily pickup at that time," Nestor said. "They have friends I trust who watch their backs." He saw my questioning look and grinned. "I got the idea from you and Gershom. Who better to work for you in the streets than the lads and gixies who are born there?" With that settled, Nestor took out his baton and wandered off, swinging it in an elaborate pattern at his side. I watched with envy. I've mastered some of the easier twirling patterns, but not the ones like Nestor was doing now. That's old Dog work.

  I noticed a swirl of wind and leaves at the corner opposite. "A moment," I told Goodwin. Achoo and I wove our way through carts and walkers to get to that corner, where a spinner rose five feet high, made strong by the wind coming off the harbor. I took off my pack and rummaged in the pocket where I kept my dust packets. Sure enough, I had a few. I took out one and closed the pack, then set that in front of Achoo. "Jaga, please?" I asked her.

  Achoo gave her soft whuff and moved until she stood over the pack.

  "Good girl," I told her as I cut the stitches that held the cloth on my dust packet. When it was open, I stepped into the spinner's heart and gave it my offering.

  The spinner went wide, then tall and tight around me. It had never met anyone like me before. It – no, he, Hesserrr – had to run dusty finger strands over my hair, into the layers of my clothes, and over my face. When he learned what I could do for him, besides provide tasty gifts of new dust and gravel, he quickly gave up his burden of human talk. I caught five- and six-word pieces that sounded like talk over cargo or rigging, sea talk borne in on the stiff breeze from the harbor. There were other pieces, too, about burglings, foistings, hard work done on cityfolk for some reason, and this.

  " – die o' fright, did Sir Lionel know she's got folk servin' him." The coarse, pleased voice belonged to a mot. She must have stood right next to Hesserrr for him to pick up so much.

  "How'd she manage it?" Another mot, younger-sounding.

  "All Dogs got a price, my pet. This 'un along with the rest. Let's go git us some peck and cass."

  That was the end of it, and the last bit Hesserrr had for me. I thanked him silently, as I always did, and stepped out. Achoo whuffed at me, as if she asked, "Did it go well?"

  I bent down for my pack. "I've got one good bit. There's luck for us, eh, Achoo?" I shouldered my pack and started to brush the dust from my hair.

  I'd finished that and gone on to my tunic when Goodwin and Haden tired of waiting and came over to join us. Haden tugged my sleeve. "Some'un offered t' feed a hardworkin' lad?" he asked, all pitiful eyes and innocent face.

  Goodwin grabbed his ear between thumb and finger and dragged him down the street. "Nestor's saddled us with a pitiful scamp, Cooper. Tell us where to find a decent meal without getting our pockets picked, boy, and I may feed you."

  When Haden told Goodwin that he could take us to a place that served Yamani buckwheat noodles, she almost adopted him. I'd never heard of noodles, but Goodwin got a taste for the things when she'd lived in Port Caynn before. They turned out to be long strings made of buckwheat flour dough, boiled until they were the same texture as dumplings. They were served in a broth with a poached egg. There was a trick to the dish. They were eaten with a pair of thin wooden sticks. Goodwin and Haden swore the Yamanis eat their food with these two sticks, and that even the youngest Yamani children use the curst things. Goodwin fumbled hers at first, being out of practice. Haden shoveled the slippery, tricksy noodle things into his mouth as fast as his hand could move. He didn't even let any of the egg drip to the ground. Once Goodwin remembered how to use the sticks, she was almost as nimble.

  Me, I shared most of the dish wi
th Achoo, who ate what I spilled. Luckily my reflexes are good, or I'd have worn it all. What I actually got to taste of the stuff was good. Not as strong as ground buckwheat, but well flavored, and the broth had a tang to it. I got a bit more of that, because I could upend the bowl into my mouth.

  Haden led us then to a stall where they boiled the seagoing insects called shrimp, or grilled them on a stick. The cove who cut their hard shells away did it so fast I couldn't follow the moves of his knife. I could only hope I'd never find him in an alley some night. I liked the grilled ones with a spicy sauce so much that I had three skewers. Then I had to buy a skewer for Achoo. I didn't feel so greedy when Goodwin bought herself and Haden each four skewers. Next came a vendor of boiled seaweed. I didn't like that at all. I didn't notice, until after I'd spat my mouthful out, that Haden hadn't bought any. He was laughing himself silly over the look on my face, whilst Goodwin wolfed her bowlful. By the time we found a sweet-roll vendor Haden liked, we were well into the Flowerbed gambling center, and anyone who had passed us for at least two blocks was certain that if we were on duty, we were the laziest Dogs they'd ever seen, interested only in filling our bellies and gawping at the sights.

  After lunch we finished our tour of Flowerbed. Haden pointed out the best bordels and taverns, and which meetinghouses were favored by the gamesters who gambled high.

  "They follow the good cooks and the entertainers they think are lucky," he explained as we headed back toward our lodgings. "Gods help you if they decide you're unlucky – no one will hire you! Plenty of folk gamble here. They get in from sea voyages, they get paid, and they have coin in hand. Or the land caravans come in, and it's the same thing."