Rosto gave me what he thought was a sober look. “Not without Cooper, I don’t.”
“Cooper will never go with anyone crooked,” Ersken said. “A rusher was mean to her mother. She’s never forgiven them.”
I could pretend not to hear what he said, because Slapper was making way for a new pigeon, one I’d never seen. This one was a sad case. He was a caked-feather fellow I instantly named Mumper. Mayhap he was gray under the dirt and grease on his wings and belly. His ghost, like those of the other murdered diggers, complained about being buried whilst his people believed he’d run off.
Once I’d gathered aught new he had to say, I heard Verene call my name. “You remember that Dog who taught us to tell dice that have been meddled with? He was on Night Watch?”
I knew him well. I remembered the sight of his fingers, handling the sets of dice he’d used to teach us. He could hold five in one hand and throw them so they’d all land in one circle drawn in the dirt.
Verene drew her finger over her throat.
My chest went tight. “Dead?” I whispered.
Ersken nodded, his face grim. “And we’re not to go to the burying. There’s a notice up on the kennel gate. We saw it on the way here. They found him with his dice in his mouth – all rigged. All crooked. My lord’s order, under his seal: “Bury him with the Dogs, but not as a Dog.”
We all made the sign against evil on our chests. Pounce came over and sat on my crossed legs to purr at me. Of course there are crooked Dogs. I can name two handfuls myself. But this is the first Dog to die since I entered the ranks. That is a sad thing.
I will buy prayers for him. I do not like that he was crooked. But he’d still been a Dog.
We sat and talked of other things as the sun rose higher and the room got warm. I wanted to get out and feed more pigeons. There might be others who’d been killed along with the ghosts who rode poor Mumper and Slapper. Mayhap once I had all of the murdered ones together, they could lead me to where they were buried. But healing had left me dozy, as it often does the day after, especially when I lose blood.
“You need a nap,” Kora said when she saw my eyes start to flutter. “And I’m taking your clothes to wash. You can pay me three coppers for each wash I do.”
“Wash?” I asked.
Kora had picked up my basket. “The herb women aren’t hiring as yet. I have my charms to get clothes clean faster than most.”
“You’ll charge three coppers?” Verene asked.
Kora looked at her. “Five for those who don’t live in my house.”
“How about mine?” Ersken asked. “I’ll pay five and pay it more than gladly.”
Kora smiled at them. “Hurry and get your things.”
Ersken and Verene ran to fetch their wash.
“It doesn’t seem right,” I said. I didn’t have the strength to argue much, I was so tired.
“I do a bit of magic with the soap and they’re clean, a bit more and they’re dry. I could make a fortune as a washerwoman,” Kora said. “The worst part is carrying wet things.”
Aniki and Rosto were clearing up the remains of breakfast.
“Get some street children to help,” Aniki said. “A copper each and they’d wash the things themselves.”
“I can imagine,” Kora said. She looked at me. “Tell me you could do better yourself.”
I yawned. “I can’t.”
“Then hush. Sleep till it’s time for your watch.”
I wrote this morning up during the afternoon, now I’ve woke up. When I opened my door, my clean wash was there in a basket, neatly folded. On my way to training, I will put three coppers under Kora’s door.
After my watch.
Tonight Tunstall, Goodwin, and me were back in the streets around the Nightmarket. And I will write details now, truly. There were tavern fights, robberies. We broke up a fight among gamblers as a man claimed a mot had cheated him. I stopped five cutpurses and three foists on my own, but they were not stealing anything worth the trouble to hobble them.
We caught a cove trying to sell children who were not his to sell and fetched him and the slaver who was about to pay him back to the kennel. We took the three nearly sold children home. One mot didn’t even know yet her little boy was missing. She had been sewing on a fancy gown for a fine lady that had to be finished in the morning. She thought her neighbor still had charge of her son.
I think that is all the work we did. I obeyed my orders and came home as soon as we mustered out, to write this little bit. I am bone weary with the work of this week, and there is Magistrate’s Court yet tomorrow. So much for good intentions and keeping a record of everything from my first week on duty.
Monday, April 6, 246
Court Day!!
This last day before our day off, I had no time for breakfast. I gobbled stale rolls and cheese, then reported at seven in the morning to the Magistrate’s Court for the Lower City. On Monday the Dogs of the Evening Watch account for those Rats they’ve bagged that week. They say what the Rats have done to warrant bagging and defend their actions in the bagging if need be. Tunstall and Goodwin will give the reports at the bidding of the Provost’s Advocate and answer the questions of the King’s Magistrate. The way it should work, the Puppies have little to do but pay attention against the day when they have to do the same. It’s up to the Dogs who write the reports and who are there as each case unfolds to present the whole thing before the court.
I had most of the long day to see that all I’d heard was true. Magistrate’s Court is simple enough. Some Rats with a little coin or patrons have advocates to speak for them. These lawyers sometimes persuade the Magistrate (Sir Tullus of King’s Reach covers Evening Watch’s arrests) to order fines, lashes, time in the stocks or Outwalls Prison, or work inside Corus or on a farm instead of something worse. Hard sentences go from labor on the realm’s roads, mines, docks, or quarries to death for the murderers and arsonists.
I was familiar enough with the Jane Street court, having run messages there before I started my training. Still, it was odd, sitting in the Dogs’ benches with Tunstall and Goodwin, my fellow Puppies, and their Dogs. Ersken had managed to slip into the seat next to me. Together we read what bored Dogs had carved into the low backs of the benches in front of us.
Not that we spent all of our time hearing reports and admiring the history. Behind the Dogs’ seats was the wall of bars that separated the business side of the court from the visitors’ side. Plenty was going on back there. Some of the folk on that side were family, friends, and sweethearts of the Rats who took their sentences that day. They had all matter of things to say, whether we were the Dogs who had vexed them or no. Then there were those who’d come for amusement’s sake. Along the wall behind the bars stood the Dogs whose work it was to keep order.
When I got bored with the crowd, I watched the court officials. They were set up in front of the Dogs’ benches. There was a table for the Provost’s Advocate, where he kept his many lists and notes, and another for any advocate hired by the Rats. We saw few advocates that day. The mages who served to keep order against any other mages sat on benches at the front of the room. The Magistrate’s Herald sat next to just such a mage, his list in one hand and his staff in the other, when he was not reading out the name of the Rat, the names of the Dogs involved, and the charges. And at the great desk, higher than the rest of us, flanked by two uniformed soldiers to represent the King’s authority, was the Magistrate himself. Sir Tullus had ruled on Evening Watch cases for six years. My lord said he was fair and knew more law than most. The Dogs said he was a bit impatient with dithering.
Around three in the afternoon they brought Orva Ashmiller up. She was a sorry-looking mess in the light of day, with cage muck on her. And she was chained, which was a puzzler. She was so skinny the shackles seemed like to drop from her wrists. If not for the memory of that big knife, I almost pitied her. Then she caught sight of me.
“You bitch!” She threw herself at me. She’d caught the cage D
ogs napping. Before the lackwits collected themselves, Orva fell headlong, her ankle chains tripping her. She scrabbled to her hands and knees to shriek, “You took my children from me! You turned my man agin’ me, you puttock, you trollop, you trull – ” She lunged and fell again. Now I knew why they’d chained her. “I’ll cut your liver out, you poxied leech! Why wouldn’t you let me go! You ruined my life!”
The crowd who had come for entertainment hooted and whistled. I wanted to vanish. I didn’t feel even a little sorry for Orva anymore.
“Steady,” whispered Tunstall.
I looked into the air over Sir Tullus’s shoulder. What a splendid omen for my very first day in the court. A drunkard who blamed me for the mess she’d gotten herself into was making a spectacle of me.
The dozy Dogs who’d let her escape ambled up to her, grabbing her arms to haul her to her feet. I just kept telling myself that with no coin and no advocate, the best she could hope for was a couple of years on a farm for striking a Dog. She’d be gone a long time, and maybe she’d get the hotblood wine out of her veins.
“Mama!”
I closed my eyes then, wishing I could trickle through the cracks in the floor. Why had the children come? I glanced back, where the crowd was. Of course her man had brought them, all three. Master Ashmiller wouldn’t look at me as he carried the little lad up to the bars. What had he been thinking? Why would he want them to see their mama like this? She was still screaming, spittle flying from her lips, calling me every vile name there was, not once looking at the little ones calling for her.
The herald banged his staff on the floor without it doing any good. At last Sir Tullus ordered the cage Dogs to gag Orva and the court Dogs to take the screaming children out of the room. I finally drew a breath. Folk were yelling at the court and cage Dogs, their attention taken away from me at last. The two loobies who’d lost control of Orva in the first place silenced her.
I began to relax.
“The case of Mistress Orva Ashmiller, resident of Mulberry Way.” The herald had a fine, ringing voice that bounced from the worn, smooth wood of the floor and walls. “Charges – striking Provost’s Guardswoman Clara Goodwin while Guardswoman Goodwin acted to uphold the King’s law together with fellow Guard Matthias Tunstall and trainee Guard Rebakah Cooper.”
Sir Tullus scowled. “Struck a Guard? Report.”
Tunstall nudged me with his elbow. “Cooper.”
I must have stared up at him like a snared rabbit. “None of the other trainees had to.” I think I whined.
“Cooper, he hates Dogs that waste time,” Goodwin said. “Report. The Dog that was there for the whole thing does the report. That would be you.”
Ersken actually tried to push me to my feet. “You can do it, Beka!”
Some nightmares do not end. I peered at the Magistrate through my bangs and dug my feet in against Ersken’s push. To my scrambling brain Sir Tullus seemed very like the smoked boar face the butchers hang before their shops to advertise. His face was that beet-like red, his jowls dark with beard-shadow. I believe he had but one very long eyebrow.
His mouth gave the oddest of twitches. By then I was in a complete, blind panic. I couldn’t speak before all these people. I didn’t care if most were behind the onlookers’ bars!
“This day comes to all trainee Guards, Rebakah Cooper,” Sir Tullus said. “Your day has only come earlier than most. Speak up. The sooner you begin the telling, the sooner you may go.”
“We were walking the rounds when we heard the sound of violence,” Tunstall said quietly. It was one of the beginnings we committed to memory in training. Now Goodwin had a grip on my other arm, far more painful than Ersken’s.
“Stand up or I’ll poke your wound,” she muttered. “Do not embarrass Tunstall and me in front of the Magistrate.”
I stumbled to my feet with that, but my knees wobbled. “I – We were w-walking the – the rounds when we, um, we heard violence. Milord.”
“Look up, Guardswoman, and speak up.” For a man supposed to be peppery, he sounded almost kind. “Just tell it. What happened?”
How could I say I could not speak before this whole hooting chamber? I stumbled and stammered and got no more along than explaining the mess Orva’s man was when Sir Tullus took pity on me. “Enough. Tunstall, continue.”
I dropped onto the bench and put my face in my hands, feeling the heat of my shame against my palms. Why must I be unable to speak before strangers? It is my biggest fault as a Dog, and I must find a way to fix it, but how? They were all laughing at me. Who could blame them? From fish guts to drooling cracknob, I’d had a glorious week.
Nor was it done. I heard Tunstall say, “Orva escaped through the open window.” He stopped then and cleared his throat.
“She knew there were stairs without? Go on,” Sir Tullus urged Tunstall. “I assume you captured her outside.”
“No, Sir Knight,” Tunstall replied. He cleared his throat again. I saw where this was headed. My tripes clenched. For a moment I thought I might throw up.
“But you have said that Goodwin was unable to give chase,” Sir Tullus reminded Tunstall.
“I did, Sir Knight.” Tunstall started to rub his beard, as he often did when he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Ah.” To my sorrow, Sir Tullus was a quick-witted man. “Stand up and try again, Cooper.”
I actually heard a moan from the onlookers.
I stood.
I was dizzily trying to remember my own name when someone walked between my trembling legs.
Pounce.
He curled up on the toes of my boots. I could feel his purr rumble through the leather.
“Sir Knight, I went after her,” I told the floor.
“Louder,” Ersken whispered.
“Sir Knight, I went after her,” I repeated, as loud as I could manage. “She would not halt when I bade her to, so I gave chase. I caught her.”
“Where, Cooper?” The Magistrate sounded very patient.
I swallowed. “At the Sheepmire Tavern, Sir Knight.”
“He won’t know where that is!” Ersken whispered. So eager he was to help me that his voice was just a bit too loud. Folk heard and laughed.
Goodwin took out her baton, went back to the bars, and walked along, banging them hard. The ones hanging on to the bars had to jump away to keep from getting their fingers smacked. Of course they hit those crowding behind them. Some went down in a heap.
“Silence!” she cried in her crowd voice. “I don’t know what manner of Players’ jollity you thought you came here for, you scuts, but you were dead wrong! This is a court of the realm’s law. Shut your gobs or I’ll come back there and crack skulls!”
Goddess, how I want to be Clary Goodwin when I get to be a proper Dog, I thought with envy.
The court Dogs, them as were supposed to keep order, stirred. It had dawned on them that they ought to do some work. They moved out into the crowd, hands on their own batons. Goodwin thrust hers back into its straps and came to sit next to Tunstall and me.
“Thank you, Guardswoman Goodwin.” Sir Tullus’s voice was as dry as Crookshank’s heart. “It is a pleasure to watch you restore quiet in my court. Continue, Guardswoman Cooper. The Sheepmire Tavern…?”
For a moment I’d forgotten my own pain. I ground my teeth and tried to remember where the curst place was. “Spindle Lane, Sir Knight,” I said at last.
“I have no idea where that is,” the Magistrate said.
Tunstall stood. “It’s but a short walk from the North Gate, Sir Knight.” He sat down, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he did so.
I tried to forgive him for handing me to Sir Tullus. I knew nearly as well as he did that it was the Dog who stayed with the Rat who did the report. It was only because I was so curst tongue-tied before folk that he’d had to speak at all.
Sir Tullus’s eyebrow shot toward his forehead. “From Mulberry Way to the North Gate?”
My tongue felt too big for my mouth. Ersken kicked me to m
ake me speak. “I – I – Forgive me, milord, sorry, Sir Knight, but we went by back ways and through a few…” I clenched my fists and kept on going. “There was alleys and between houses and she went through a couple of drinking dens and I caught her by going around one, Sir Knight, then I hobbled her and we got a cart ride back to the kennel and I know I wasn’t s’posed to arrest her but I had her and so I told her she was arrested and then my Dogs – ‘scuze me, my Guards – they done it proper when I got her to the guardhouse.” My mouth kept going as I said, “I’m sorry for her children and her man, but they’re cracknobs for wanting someone who breaks crockery on their faces and tries to cut them with a dreadful big knife, with apologies, Sir Knight.” Then I clapped my hands over my traitor mouth. It was a heady thing, reporting like that, with my heart pounding and my cheeks burning like one of Crookshank’s houses. I think I went a little mad for just a moment.
Someone poked me from behind. It was Verene. She gave me a flask. I sniffed, but it was just warm raspberry twilsey, naught that would make me giddy. The tartness washed the dry coat from my mouth and made it tingle. I reminded myself to do something nice for Verene one day soon.
I looked at Sir Tullus through my bangs. His mouth was twitching, more this time than it had before. Then it steadied out. He scratched his head. “Better, Guardswoman?”
I nodded. This time it was Tunstall who kicked me. “Yes, sir, thank you, Sir Knight,” I said, thinking that between Tunstall and Ersken, my legs would look like eggplants in the morning.
“Perhaps you would be so good as to explain why you went to such trouble, if you please,” Sir Tullus said. “You show a degree of…enthusiasm that is unusual, even for a trainee Guard.”
“Sir?” I asked. Now that the worst of it was done, I could meet his eyes, as long as he didn’t want to be chattering until midnight.
“Why did you not let her go? You could have returned for her another day,” Sir Tullus explained.
Perhaps it was Sir Tullus who’d run mad, not me. Except he seemed to be the same as when the day had started. Still, it was a crackbrained question, though I could not say as much to him.
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