Terrier

by Tamora Pierce

  Goodwin took the stone from Tunstall and dried it on her tunic. “Why don’t you and – “

  “Pounce,” I said.

  “Pounce,” she replied. “Why don’t you two guard this for a while? Whilst Tunstall and me see if someone trustworthy can tell us about it. Because now we know a thing. If Fulk wants this bad enough to lie and keep it to himself, then mayhap Crookshank’s grandson Herun was right. Mayhap there is money in these things, and Crookshank is up to something.”

  “And maybe got his grandson killed,” Tunstall said with a nod.

  “Step closer and put the cat down,” Goodwin ordered. As I obeyed, she bent to adjust her boot and slipped the stone to me. I tucked it into my breeches pocket as I straightened whilst Goodwin told Pounce what a good fellow he was. No one on the street would know I had the stone.

  “Now. Let’s get to work, girls,” Tunstall said. “Time to shake the tree.”

  Other Dogs collect Happy Bags from each business that wants to know otherwise ill-paid Dogs will watch over them with diligence. Tunstall and Goodwin gathered none of those. They called only on the Rogue, at the Court of the Rogue. We walked on west of the waking Nightmarket and the Market of Sorrows, where the slaves were sold. I hate it. The smell makes my tripes cramp. Too many families around Mutt Piddle Lane come here to sell extra children to make a little money, if they don’t try illegal sales for more.

  Up Koskynen Street my Dogs and I turned away from Sorrows, headed deeper into the part of the Lower City called the Cesspool, where Mutt Piddle is. There are no street torches here, except those provided by drinking houses, outdoor gambling, and brothels. Houses are kept together with rope and magic charms. The pigs that root in street garbage are rail-thin. Hard and hungry folk with nowhere else to go hold the Cesspool’s streets after dark.

  Children swarmed us, begging for a copper. Once, I’d been among them. Now they surrounded me, thinking I was new meat. I twirled my baton from the thong around my wrist and swept it around me in two half circles, moving them back. “You crew don’ go flappin’ your ticklers my way,” I told them softly in Cesspool cant. “I’m no more an eye for you than the Ladymoon.”

  They wasn’t used to hearing their own gab from a Dog. They scampered.

  My Dogs turned to watch me, their faces a study. “You do that very well,” Goodwin said.

  I looked down.

  “Fishpuppy, I’m talking to you.” There was a warning in her voice.

  I met her eyes. “Eight year we lived on Mutt Piddle Lane, Guardswo – “

  “Goodwin,” she corrected me. “I suppose you have family around here still?”

  “Yes, Guar – Goodwin. My Granny, a few blocks from here.”

  “I was told something of the kind,” she said finally. “But it’s one thing to hear the gossip and another to hear your own Puppy talk like a Cesspool Rat. How many more secrets have you got, Cooper?”

  I thought of the corner dust spinners. Mistress Noll had already hinted to them about the pigeons. “Very few, Goodwin.”

  “Good. I hate secrets. Don’t talk Cesspool cant anymore. You’re a Dog, not a Rat.” She set out again, Tunstall beside her, Pounce and me behind.

  Half a block west on Festive Lane was a big black stone house. It had been a noble’s place once, when the city was new. As the nobles moved to other places, merchants had taken it. When they moved on, it had served as a courthouse for a time, then a kennel. For a long while it was home to dozens of poor families. Now guards in leather armor stood watch around the ten-foot-high wall, crossbows trained on the open ground in front of them. Torches blazed in iron holders all around the wall and on the building inside. Guards on the gate opened it to let us through without so much as a challenge.

  The Rogue expected us.

  Inside the house, we walked down a hall filled with petitioners, armsmen on the watch for trouble, thieves, rushers, them that sell their bodies – mots and coves – and the children of the folk who share the building with the Rogue Kayfer. Under the dirt and smoke stains, I could see the place must have been beautiful once. Someone went to trouble carving out the stone columns and wooden moldings. Now both were chipped, scratched, and smoke-stained.

  A lean spintry in a loincloth and not much else decided to amuse himself by teasing the Puppy. Surely he knew I was too busy, and too poor, for his services, but he beckoned to me, flexing hard chest muscles. I looked away. It was a very tight loincloth.

  “She’s on duty, my buck,” Goodwin said. Did she ever miss anything? “Find yourself another playmate.”

  “I’ll settle for you, flower,” he said, giving her a going-over with his eyes. “I love full-blown roses, who know what a man is for.”

  “I have a man – a real man. One who doesn’t break when I play with him.” When she grinned, all her teeth flashed. The spintry shrugged and moved off.

  I couldn’t imagine Goodwin having a man.

  Then I saw a familiar face, one I never thought to see in the Court. I cleared my throat.

  Tunstall glanced at me and saw where I looked. He poked Goodwin before he strolled over to Mistress Noll. “Grandmother, I’m shocked!” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek. “What brings you to so nasty a place?”

  “Maggots in my flour. My merchant says the Rogue buys his best now,” she said, her face sour. “Taking advantage of an old woman making her way in the world, I say. I left Gemma with my stall and come to make my plea to the Rogue to send some of the good flour my way. I’m sure he’ll want something for his trouble. He always does.”

  “Alone?” Goodwin asked with a frown.

  “Goddess, never!” Mistress Noll pointed to just inside the hall. One of her sons and another cove were talking with one of the guards in quiet voices. “Yates and his friend came with me. It’s good to have one son who still lives in Corus.” She lowered her voice. “How did your visit with Crookshank go?”

  “As well as you’d expect,” Tunstall replied.

  “I heard Beka here got to see her old friend Tansy.” Mistress Noll’s eyes twinkled as she looked up at Tunstall.

  “You knew Beka and Tansy Lofts were friends?” Goodwin asked.

  “They used to play on my street,” Mistress Noll said. “That Tansy was a pert gixie, wasn’t she, Beka? But pretty as a flower even then. We all knew she’d catch some lucky cove’s eye. Ah. I think Yates finally got the right lad to bribe.”

  To be sure, Yates was beckoning to her. She went to him. I looked at the floor. Didn’t Mistress Noll have words with Tansy once or twice? And what if she had? Mistress Noll’s a mother. She’d speak kindly of a mot who’d lost her first child. Anyone would.

  “Let’s go, Puppy. Time to show off that uniform,” Goodwin told me. “Chin up. We’re here in the name of the Lord Provost.”

  She must have guessed that would be the spell to put iron in my spine and bring my head high. I could walk bold for the man who had taken my family out of the Cesspool.

  Pounce kept well back as we entered what must have been the great hall in the days when nobles had lived here. Now it was the Rogue’s throne room. The chiefs sat at tables near one end of the room, their doxies and rushers around them. On a platform inches above the floor, at a level with the broad hearth, was a fellow I guessed to be the Rogue himself – Kayfer Deerborn. He sat on a throne made of cobbled-together crates, wooden barrels, and pieces of furniture. There he talked with a brown-skinned Carthaki woman in breeches and a shirt. There were tattoos around her eyes and ruby studs on the rim of one ear. She had the look of a slave trader to me. Two more Carthakis waited just off the platform at her back. The one in a slave’s collar held the leashes of two big mastiffs. He was even more muscled than the mastiffs.

  Waiting there for Kayfer to notice us, I took the chance to fix him in my memory. All the Cesspool’s older women said how broad his shoulders were at one time, how blue his eyes, how quick his smile. I saw a flabby cove in his early forties with a smooth arch of nose who was losing his sho
rt brown hair. The eyes were very blue, with plenty of lines around them. He wore a black pearl drop as big as my thumb in one ear, a silver hoop in the other, and a gold ring with a sapphire the size of a pigeon’s egg on his right index finger. There were tales about how he got that gem.

  The smile was well enough.

  Kayfer clapped the slave trader on the shoulder. She unhooked a purse from her belt, but she wasn’t so rude as to hand it to him. Instead one of Kayfer’s mots guided her to a small room on the other side of the hearth. The trader’s guard, slave, and dogs followed. The Rogue beckoned to one of his chiefs who was standing.

  “We get to wait,” Tunstall said, his lips barely moving. “It’s how he proves he’s still the Rogue.”

  “Some Rogue,” a familiar voice drawled. We looked to our right. The bone-pale cove from last night and his two ladies sat against the wall with the rushers who served the Rogue and his chiefs. “Sits on his arse like a sarden king and bribes others to stand for him. I’d hope for someone livelier in charge here.”

  Goodwin glanced at Kayfer. He was whispering with the chief who had gone up to him. Tunstall ambled over to one of the female chiefs, Ulsa. Her district was Prettybone, across the river. Ulsa grinned and nudged out a chair for him with her foot. He took it.

  Goodwin sat on her hunkerbones in front of the pale cove. His right-hand mot, the small one who was as sleek as a cat, sat at his side with her ankles crossed, fingering her gown. I saw her hand could reach her knife or a curious series of coins knotted in crimson thread that hung from her belt. These looked like magic. The big blond mot at the man’s left only leaned back against the wall, one hand dangling from her propped-up knee.

  “Now, laddybuck,” Goodwin said, friendly as a rat about to eat her young, “why don’t you tell me what kind of lively you’re looking for? I’ll direct you where to find it, away from Corus.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile.

  He gave her the same kind of smile. Then he looked at Tunstall, who had made the Prettybone chief laugh. Lastly he looked at me. I turned my eyes away.

  The cat mot nudged him with her shoulder. “Stop it, Rosto,” she said. “Fidget someone who fidgets you back.” She nodded to Goodwin. “He’s Rosto the Piper. I’m Kora, and that’s Aniki.” The blond who looked to be a swordswoman raised a lazy hand in greeting. “We heard life was more…interesting…in Corus, so here we are.” She gave Goodwin a friendlier smile by far than the one Goodwin gave her.

  “Scavengers always come looking when they hear of a feast. So far it’s been long put off,” Goodwin told them. “Kayfer – his chiefs – have done away with any challengers.”

  “Oh, we’re not looking to challenge,” Rosto said. “We hope to be entertained. Scanra was that bare of entertainment.”

  “Here’s a fine-looking cat,” Aniki said. Pounce had arrived. He sauntered up to her. “A very handsome, elegant – ” She gulped.

  “Purple eyes,” Kora said quietly. “Odd-colored eyes in a creature mean it’s god-marked.” She leaned forward and stroked my cat, who butted his head against her palm. He is soft on mages.

  “He’s the Puppy’s,” Goodwin said, watching them. “He’s a clever beast.”

  Pounce gave the ripple of mrts that was his laugh, though I was the only one who knew it.

  Rosto looked past us and raised his eyebrows. “Hello. What’s this?”

  In walked Crookshank, gaunt, unshaven, hollow-eyed. His narrow leggings were wrinkled, as if he’d slept in them. His knee-length tunic was little better. There were stains on it, too. His black hair was snarled. Two of his manservants followed him, empty sword and dagger scabbards at their belts. The guards had taken their weapons.

  Tunstall left off talking to Ulsa and came to stand by us. Goodwin rose, too. I placed myself at Goodwin’s elbow, making sure I did not block anyone’s view. Aniki, who was nearest to me, winked.

  “Kayfer, you two-faced scummer, we was partners!” screeched Crookshank. “Even a sucking leech like you shoulda been content wi’ your share, you greedy-gutted spintry!”

  The Rogue stood on his platform, rubbing the top of his head. “I beg you, Ammon, calm down,” he said, his voice soothing. “Whatever your grievance wi’ me, we can surely sort it out.”

  “Grievance? You call my great-grandson’s murder a grievance?” Crookshank yelled, pointing at Kayfer, his bony finger quivering. “What kind of monster takes a wee child from his family and murders ‘im for profit? Did you think you could hide behind notes smuggled into my house and I would not suspect you?”

  Kayfer stepped down off his platform, both hands out, his face as sorrowful as a professional mourner’s. “Ammon, I know it is your grief which makes you say these things.”

  “Butter just melts on ‘is tongue, doesn’t it,” Rosto murmured.

  “Bad laddie,” Aniki told him. “Hush. Listen to a master work.”

  I glanced at Goodwin and saw the corners of her mouth twitch. I began to think mayhap she liked these three impudent rascals from the north.

  “Of course it’s my grief, Stormwings take your eyes!” screamed Crookshank. “Your Shadow Snake murdered my Rolond, when he was not in our business!” Tears rolled down his face. I almost felt bad for him. Then I remembered that he’d kicked my cousin Lilac’s family from their lodgings when she was having a bad time, and Lilac lost her baby.

  “Ammon, the Shadow Snake is a bogey to frighten children.” The Rogue’s voice was as smooth as warm oil. “You must be cracked spun with grievin’, to say I’d deal with a monster out of tales. And as for me of all folk sendin’ anyone t’ harm a child…” His voice cracked when he said “child.” “Ammon, I swear on the names of my own grandbabies, I did not do it.” Kayfer’s blue eyes were steady on Crookshank’s brown ones. They did not waver. Not a muscle of his mouth twitched to give away a lie. I supposed the Rogue would have to be the realm’s best liar, but I believed him even so. Kayfer went on, “In the name of Bright Mithros and the Goddess herself, I swear it. I would never bring such harm to any family of yours. We depend on each other, old friend. I never conjured up a nightmare like the Snake. I never gave the task of murderin’ your little cove t’ any of my chiefs. My chiefs would never do such a thing at my biddin’.”

  “Curst right we would not!” cried Dawull, the huge, redheaded chief who had the Waterfront District on both sides of the river. Kayfer shot him a glare, but Dawull only smiled. I wondered when Dawull might decide that a Rogue’s take from all the chiefs might be better than most of the take from only Waterfront District.

  Crookshank spat at Kayfer’s feet. “Liar.” He glared at everyone in the room. “You’re leeches, living off the rest of us and feeding this oathbreaker!” His voice rasped with exhaustion. “Look at the lot of you!” He swung his hands wide. “Sitting here lapping up drink and food like caged birds. I curse him. If you take his orders and protect his throne, then I curse you in Rolond’s name. You best mind your children!”

  “Crookshank, you’re mad!” Ulsa cried. “There is no such creature as the Shadow Snake!”

  Kayfer snapped his fingers, calling his rushers. Four of them seized Crookshank’s guards. Another grabbed the old man by the arm. Kayfer stepped closer to Crookshank. “It is terrible, what’s happened. We all are sick with sorrow for it,” he said, his voice quieter. “But why you, Ammon? Why might someone callin’ himself Shadow Snake target your house, your family? What tidbit has come into your hands of late? Why have you not offered a taste to your Rogue?”

  Crookshank lunged at Kayfer with a knife he’d pulled from the folds of his tunic. The chiefs jumped to their feet with a roar, trying to get to the Rogue before his throat got cut.

  But it was Rosto who got there first – he was a blur, as quick as Sergeant Ahuda. Had he been waiting for it? Or had he just been ready to move at need, like the Sergeant was always telling us to do?

  “Quick little spintry, isn’t he?” Aniki asked, her voice just reaching us Dogs. “You should see him swarm up
a house wall. A thing of beauty, he is.”

  “I’ll pass on the house wall, thanks so much,” Goodwin replied, her voice the same kind of quiet. “I’d hate to arrest such a pretty fellow.”

  “He promises to be interesting, if he manages to live,” Tunstall murmured as Rosto plucked the dagger from Crookshank’s hand and gave it to one of Kayfer’s rushers. Only after Rosto searched Crookshank did he let the old man up. He was very good. Those who didn’t have the same point of view as we Dogs would not have seen Rosto slip something into his own left boot top.

  “Oh, well, living,” Kora said. “Aniki, a silver – what’s that local coin? A silver noble that the big redheaded chief is the first to offer Rosto a job.”

  “Done,” replied Aniki.

  “Two silver nobles it’s Ulsa, the chief of Prettybone,” Tunstall said without turning to look at them. “She likes handsome coves that know what they’re doing.” He glanced back at them. “Even more if they have pretty mots who also know what they’re doing.”

  Aniki reached up, offering her palm. “Bet.”

  Tunstall turned and clasped it. “Bet.”

  Rosto was sauntering back to us, hands in his pockets.

  “Puppy, fetch,” Goodwin ordered me in a voice that just reached my ears.

  I couldn’t believe she would say that to me, after the night before. Then I steeled myself. I knew what she wanted. I had to redeem myself. Goddess, please don’t let me fumble, I prayed, turning my baton in my fingers. I went to rearrange it on my belt. As Rosto drew level with me, I dropped it on the floor and lunged for it, right across his shins. Quick as he was, with my body in the way he didn’t see I’d put my baton between his feet. Down he went as I turned, making us a tangle of baton, Puppy, and Rosto.

  “Dear, if you’d asked, I’d’ve considered it,” he muttered as he tried to undo us. “You’re a pretty thing when you look a cove in the eye.”