The Holver Alley Crew

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  Kennith’s jaw set.

  “Just having a few beers, Nange,” Verci said. “Same as you all, I presume.”

  Nange nodded. “Something like that. You’ve got a small table here.”

  “Plenty of others over there,” Asti said. “Sure you can find one for you and yours.”

  “So what’s the news over here?” Nange asked.

  “Just having a drink with a friend, Nange. Find your own chair.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, spreading his arms wide. He put on a big grin and pointed one finger at Asti. “You owe me a knife, pirie.”

  “I’ll give it to you when you need it,” Asti said.

  Nange laughed and went to an empty table. The others went with him, Essin giving a small salute to Verci as they left.

  “What was that?” Kennith asked.

  “Small problem, nothing more,” Asti said.

  Kennith stewed. “Most guys who call me that eat their teeth.”

  “Keep it in your chair right now.”

  “Essin think he’s as good as me?” Verci asked.

  “I think they think we’re rusty,” Asti said. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “So what do we do? They know we’re up to something here.”

  “Right.” Asti turned to Kennith. “Here’s the thing. You walked in here, every eye in the bar turned on you and stayed on you. Every person in here is going to remember you, and they’ll remember you came and sat with us. Now, Verci and I, we’re unremarkable-looking. People look right past us all the time. You . . . I bet that doesn’t happen much.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Kennith almost growled when he said it.

  “I can imagine,” Verci said.

  “I can go,” Kennith said. “Maybe someone else will want this job.”

  “No, no,” Asti said. He waved his hands to keep Kennith from getting up. “That won’t do. Especially with Lesk and his boys in here. They know us, other people know us. That’ll just put more eyes on you, eyes on us, burn everything into people’s memories. Forty people in here who just saw something interesting, something worth mentioning to someone else. Secrecy goes to the water closet at that point.”

  Kennith relaxed in his chair, but he still looked put out. “All right. So what do we do?”

  “We have a few beers, and we catch up with our old friend we haven’t seen in years.”

  “Who is that?”

  “That would be you. We talk about the Parliament and tetchball and a dozen other mundane things.” Asti leaned in close and whispered. “We’re going to have a good couple hours of absolutely dull, boring, ordinary conversation so people will lose interest in us. After that we’ll take our leave of the taproom in the most ordinary and unremarkable way and reassemble in my room upstairs to talk business.” He leaned back just as Kimber came over with three beers.

  “Who’s your friend?” Kimber asked as she put the bottles on the table.

  “This is Kennith,” Asti said congenially. “He’s an old friend from when I was in the service.”

  “Pleasure,” Kimber said with a nod. “Asti, I can count, and I know that’s your fourth. Don’t make me regret serving it to you.”

  “Kimber, I would never do that to you.” He took one of the silver coins Verci had left on the table and gave it to her.

  “Better not,” she said, taking the coin.

  “Do me a favor,” Asti said. “Make sure Lesk and his boys get slow service.”

  Kimber made a face. “That won’t be a problem.”

  “All right,” Asti said as she walked away. “So, old friend, did you see the tetchball game today?”

  Over the next hour they made small talk, and once Verci and Kennith got on the subjects of gadgets, tools, and gears, there was no stopping them. They both lit up like schoolboys, giddy with their shared passion for all things mechanical. Asti sat through it, smile on his face, calculating the exact degree of attention the rest of the room was giving them. He scanned the room, noting every time eyes flashed over at them, or when a newcomer would ask, “Who’s that with the Rynax boys?”

  Time didn’t pass fast enough, and Asti felt the itch in his fingers to move on. It was past eight bells, long after Kimber had refused to sell Asti anything but soft cider, when Lesk and his friends slipped out. Attention on them wasn’t going to go any lower.

  “The problem with that,” Kennith said as he made invisible designs on the table with his finger, “is that you can’t take horses out of the equation. Additional horses can help ease the weight, but your top carriage speed will always be limited by how fast they run.”

  “True, true,” Verci said. “Unless there was a way to take horses out of the equation.”

  “But you can’t do that. I tried building something like a pedalcart, but I couldn’t get something carriage size moving.”

  “Not surprised. I can’t think of a way to remove horses for a long haul. Short term, though, I have an idea. Spring tension.”

  “Spring tension?”

  “Tension can hold enormous power, and if you can ratchet it up and somehow channel it into the wheels of your carriage, then you can get a huge burst of speed.”

  “Like a catapult?”

  “Exactly!”

  “That’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard.” Kennith laughed.

  “I’m not saying it will work,” Verci said. “It’s an idea.”

  “You know,” Asti said, “I think we did save one of those spring cranks from the fire. Our packs are up in my room.”

  “Really?” Verci asked. His expression of surprise flickered slightly. Asti was afraid for a moment that Verci thought he was actually talking about spring cranks. “Well, let’s go up and see.”

  Kennith stood up, taking his satchel with him. “I’d love to see it.” He almost made it sound natural.

  “Let’s go,” Asti said. The three of them left the taproom. Asti gave the room one more glance, noting their exit was given nothing but a token regard by anyone there.

  The room Asti had rented from Kimber was small, barely any room for anything other than the bed. The three of them managed to squeeze in and shut the door, with Asti and Verci sitting on the bed. One lamp hung from the ceiling, burning with a low, warm glow.

  “So what is the job?” Asti asked as soon as they shut the door.

  “There’s a jade statue arriving in three days on an Acserian ship.”

  “First of Joram,” Verci said absently.

  Kennith nodded. “It was bought by a rich merchant who lives in East Maradaine. Someone else has offered a fairly substantial commission to the Old Lady if she gets it for him.”

  “Sounds pretty straightforward,” Verci said. “Define ‘substantial.’”

  “Our cut is nine hundred crowns. That straightforward?”

  “Straight enough,” Asti agreed. “What’s the catch?”

  “I don’t know about catch,” Kennith said. “The ship will unload at the Wheeler Docks, and the statue will spend one night in the customhouse at Wheeler. Officially.”

  “And unofficially?”

  “It’ll leave in the middle of the night, loaded into an armored carriage for the ride to the estate in East Maradaine.”

  “And you’re that carriage driver,” Asti said. “You need someone to rob the carriage you’re driving.”

  Verci whistled low. “So you’re selling out to the higher price.”

  “No, that’s not it—”

  “Hey, I understand, Rill,” Verci said. “Most bosses forget to pay the carriage-man well.”

  “That’s true, but not how you’re saying,” Kennith said.

  “So how is it, then?” Asti asked. He could see something fierce in Kennith’s eyes. Integrity. This wasn’t a man who was just selling out a boss for a few extra crowns.

  �
��I’m not driving!”

  Confirmed. Asti asked, “So how are you involved?”

  “I built the armored carriage on commission,” he said. “They only paid me a third of what was promised.”

  “Revenge, then,” Verci said.

  “Justice,” Kennith said.

  Asti clasped Kennith on the shoulder. “Justice it is, then.”

  Kennith nodded, his face grim. “That’s why I’m in.”

  Asti shut his eyes, visualizing the docks at Wheeler Street to the best of his memory. “So it’s ship to customhouse, then customhouse to carriage, and carriage to estate.”

  He could see it clearly—the statue being loaded off the ship, put in the customhouse. He could see men putting it in the carriage. The carriage driving down Wheeler then turning east toward the estate.

  “How big is the statue?” Asti asked.

  “Not sure exactly,” Kennith said. “I got the impression it was pretty big. Maybe as tall as a man.”

  “That big, made of jade?” Verci asked. “We’re talking priceless, then.”

  “Four points,” Asti said quietly. “Ship, customhouse, carriage, estate.”

  “Estate’s a hard point,” Verci said.

  “Hard point?” Kennith asked.

  “It’s the final resting spot for the merchandise,” Verci said. “Since it doesn’t need to travel farther, extra measures can be taken to keep it from going anywhere. The other three points are soft points.”

  “Since the statue needs to move,” Kennith said. “Got it. But the carriage isn’t a soft point, I can tell you.”

  Verci shook his head. “I’d much rather not do a carriage job, either. Give me a nice quiet sneak-in any day.”

  Asti kept his eyes closed. He tried imagining different plans for getting a large jade statue out of the customhouse. Without a sense of the interior of the place, or the security measures, he couldn’t see any plan that didn’t involve the men at the customhouse being lazy and slipshod.

  He needed to know the customhouse.

  “So are we settled, then?” Kennith asked. “What do we do next?”

  “Well, we need a safehouse, which the Old Lady usually provides,” Verci said. “And we meet there next time.”

  “North Seleth Inn,” Kennith said. “I was supposed to tell you that part. I work out of the stable there.”

  “Well, good,” Verci said. “Is there anything else we’re supposed to know? Is the statue cursed, perhaps?”

  “No, it’s not cursed,” Kennith said derisively. Then he stopped for a moment. “At least, I don’t think it’s cursed.”

  “If it is, we ask for more money,” Asti said.

  “I am supposed to give you two this,” Kennith said, holding up the satchel. “The Old Lady said it belonged to your father.”

  “What?” Asti yanked the satchel out of Kennith’s hand and opened it up. “She’s had this all this time?”

  “It would be like her,” Verci said. “What’s there?”

  Asti pulled a belt and a bandolier from the satchel. It had been years since he had seen them. The belt had several knives hidden on it, the bandolier a series of darts along it.

  “Dad’s weapons,” Verci said, his throat catching slightly.

  “I thought these were lost,” Asti said. He handed the bandolier to Verci. “This one suits you better.”

  “I do have better aim,” Verci said numbly. He took the bandolier and held it tightly. Almost reverently.

  Asti inspected the belt. Each knife was still razor sharp, not a speck of rust. The Old Lady had kept them well. Asti closed the satchel. “Tomorrow morning at nine bells at the North Seleth Inn?”

  “I’ll see you both there,” Kennith said. “In the stable, of course.”

  “Of course,” Verci said. Kennith nodded to both of them and squeezed himself out the door.

  Verci turned back to Asti. “What do you think? Trustworthy?”

  “As much as he needs to be. I think he’s being up front about the job and why he wants it.”

  “Good enough,” Verci said.

  “Nine hundred, three ways . . . that’s a good start for getting us out of our debt.”

  “Which is why I’m on board, brother.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Asti said.

  “What do you think Nange is up to?”

  “Haven’t a clue. He’s a nuisance.”

  Verci’s brow furrowed. “Nuisance on the move. He didn’t move with Essin before, either.”

  “Essin is nothing, and you know it.”

  “He’s not bad.”

  “He’s not you, though.” Asti reached under the bed and pulled out a crate of things he had purchased earlier that day: dark slacks, coats, gloves, and boots. “What say we suit up, go take a look at the customhouse?”

  As much as Verci hated to admit, it felt good to be up on a rooftop, Dad’s bandolier slung over his shoulder, and Asti crouching next to him. From their vantage point, even in the weak moonslight, they could see the whole customhouse facility beyond the high wall. There were three brick warehouses on the grounds, with wide walkways between each one—wide enough to bring mulecarts through. Beyond that there were the river docks, with a handful of moored ships. Past the ships, across the wide stretch of the Maradaine River, Verci could just make out the lights of the northern bank.

  “What do you think? Can you get in there?” Asti asked.

  Verci took his lensescope out of his satchel. “Don’t insult me. In is easy.” There were light patrols walking through the grounds—men with dogs.

  “In is always easy,” Asti said. He pointed along the brick wall, where several men with crossbows walked along the top. “Not over the wall, though.”

  “Course not,” Verci said. “The place is a funnel—enter from the river, leave through the gate.” He took a closer look at the gate—gates, more correctly. There were two sets, and a space in between. Looked real easy to get trapped in there.

  “Or continue up the river, once the ship is cleared.”

  “You think that’s better?”

  “I’m thinking it exists as an option,” Asti said. “Go out through the gate, you got to have the gate open. Upstream is unprotected.”

  “River patrol.”

  Asti shrugged. “A problem, but they mostly stay downstream of the customhouses, making sure smugglers don’t unload before they’re checked out. The real problem would be getting the goods onto a cleared ship.”

  “Bribe.” Verci knew as soon as he said it how Asti would react.

  “Never works. You’re just setting yourself up to get caught. You give some stranger money and hope it buys you some trust which—”

  Asti had strong opinions about the value of bribes.

  “I was joking,” Verci said.

  “Though you are right about one thing,” Asti said. “Best way out with the goods is to slip through with something legit.”

  “Depends on the goods.” Verci had a romantic notion in his head of quietly swimming upstream, skulking into a warehouse, crack a lock or two, grab the target, head back down to the river, and swim out. In and out with no one seeing.

  Asti must have been reading his mind. “Those are wide walkways, plenty of lamps. You have to cross thirty feet, minimum, in the wide open. You’d be crossbow-bait.”

  “Dog-bait, more likely,” Verci said. The hounds the guards were leading were more than just sniffers.

  “So no chance of a quiet in-out, hmm?”

  “I don’t see it,” Verci said. “Maybe with a distraction of some sort by the gate.”

  “Distraction games for burgles are always dicey. Might as well take out the guards.”

  “You’re talking about at least twenty. Not to mention dogs.”

  “I’m not serious,” Asti said. “Priva
te guards, even city constabs, that’s fair enough. Customhouse is national. King’s Marshals, I think.”

  “Better trained?”

  “Blazes to training. I mean you leave a few of them dead, they’ll turn the city over to find you.” Asti turned around and sat down. He had seen all he needed to see, at least for now.

  “I hate leaving bodies for any gig,” Verci said. Sometimes it was inevitable, but Verci preferred to be home and in bed before anyone even knew they had been robbed.

  “Do we scout closer?” Asti asked. “Or do we go home, sleep on it, and come up with a different plan?”

  “I’m tempted to try the upstream swim, just to see if that can work,” Verci said. That would help him work out the kinks. Far too out of practice in this sort of thing. The problem with that was, any mistake would get the guards riled up. Verci wasn’t too worried about getting caught, but an incident might put the whole place on alert for a few days.

  Asti got back onto his knees, and put one hand out. “Scope.”

  Verci handed the scope over. “What is it?”

  “Would you look at that?” Asti said idly. He passed the scope back.

  “What am I looking for?” Verci asked, putting the scope to his eye.

  “Structure between the warehouse on the right and the kennels. Almost backed to the warehouse.”

  Verci spotted it. “Too small for a storage shed. Or an armory.”

  “I’ve a hunch that’s a backhouse.”

  “Backhouse?” Verci found that hard to believe. Even in North Seleth plenty of places had water closets. A big facility like this, in Keller Cove, had to have gotten rid of their backhouses.

  “Right on the bank, everything is going to flow out to the river anyway, why waste the money to install water closets? No one lives there.”

  Verci looked again. Asti could be right. “Which would mean no piping. Just a disgusting hole to crawl through.”

  “A disgusting hole that pops you up ten feet from the warehouse. Could work.” Asti grinned.

  “Frankly, I’d want a daylight scout.”

  “What for?”

  “For one, just to see if that’s a backhouse. But more just to feel out our options.”

  “Con it instead of burgle?”