Priest of Bones

by Peter McLean

“Everyone shut up!” Jochan roared.

  Silence fell over the room, and I took my moment.

  “Welcome to the Tanner’s Arms,” I said. “Most of you here know me, but for those who don’t, my name is Tomas Piety and I own this place, among others. I’ve been away to war but now I’m back, and the Tanner’s is back to being how it should be.”

  “And are taxes back to being how they were?” someone said, his voice carrying more than I thought he had meant it to.

  “Taxes are suspended,” I said. “I know times are hard. The war has been hard on everyone, those who fought and those who stayed behind alike. Whatever you were paying Alman is gone now, and what you paid me before the war we can discuss later. For now there are no taxes on these streets, and if anyone comes asking for them you come and tell me or my brother about it, and we’ll make them go away.”

  There was a cheer at that, albeit a halfhearted one. I doubted that anyone there had much of anything to pay taxes with, other than the few conspicuous brandy drinkers. I watched each of those ones carefully, noting their faces, and I hoped Fat Luka was doing the same. There were some I knew by sight, and if they were doing that much better than their fellow men then I wanted to know how and why.

  I remembered what Governor Hauer had told me about this mysterious Bloodhands and his Skanians who had supposedly overrun the city while we had been at war, and about how they had gold to spend. I remembered the men in the house at Chandler’s Narrow too, and how they had been scared for their families. These men with brandies in their hands were playing a dangerous game, to my mind.

  Ailsa stood behind the bar, drawing tankards of beer and smiling and flirting, but I would have bet a gold crown to a clipped copper that she was noting who had money for brandy too. Oh, she was no fool, that one, that was for sure.

  No, Ailsa was nobody’s fool, and whatever tricks she could perform with paints and powders and lace, I was sure that the Queen’s Men didn’t take in anyone who wasn’t shrewd at business as well. I gave her a look and she nodded back at me, and I could see that we understood each other.

  She had a way with people, I could see that too. Upstairs in her room she had spoken to me like a Dannsburg aristocrat, with her accent like cut glass and always making me feel like she was looking down her nose at me. Down here behind the bar she was everybody’s sweetheart, common and charming and funny with a wink and a smile and a joke. Oh, yes, she was good, I could see that. A spy has to blend and mix and mingle until they could have been anyone, and no one thinks anything of a flirty barmaid, do they? Flirty barmaids are two a copper penny, and who’s to remember which tavern they know her from?

  I sat and watched the room for an hour or so, then told Ailsa to take her break in the kitchen and had Fat Luka stand a turn behind the bar while I went after her. We were left alone to talk in peace, which was another advantage of having the crew think she was my fancy woman.

  “The ones with money for brandy are spies, more than likely,” she said as soon as we were alone, “or at least in their pay. Do you recognize any of them?”

  “A few faces I’ve seen before, but not to put names to them,” I said. “I thought you might have noticed that.”

  “I notice everything, Tomas, it’s my job,” she said. “You realize the one the men call Cookpot has battle shock, don’t you?”

  “I know,” I said. “He’s having a think about whether he wants to stay.”

  “You’d be better off without him,” she said. “He’ll be unpredictable.”

  I knew that. Jochan was unpredictable too, but then he always had been.

  “He’s my man, and he stays my man unless he chooses otherwise,” I said. “I’ll take your say on whatever your business here may be, but don’t you tell me how to lead my men.”

  She held my gaze for a moment, then nodded.

  “Very well,” she said. “We’ll keep to the subject of the spies, the Skanian agents. That should interest you well enough. The Skanians are the ones who have taken over your old business interests. It’s high time you started taking them back again.”

  “I know that,” I said. “What I don’t know is why they’re doing it.”

  “Ellinburg is corrupt to the core,” she said. “From Governor Hauer on down, the city all but stands on the shoulders of its underworld. People like you and Ma Aditi are key to the real economy of this city, or at least you were before the war. The bulk of the gold might be in the hands of the merchant guilds and the factories, but they survive only so long as they have a workforce. Those who control the streets control that workforce, in the main. Hauer managed to get a little of that control back during the war years, but then he lost most of it again to the Skanians. If they were to take over the street economy of Ellinburg, they could be in a position to break Hauer’s authority and the wealth of the merchant guilds together. With control of the city in their hands, they could prepare an advance staging point here, ready and waiting for a possible invasion that might threaten Dannsburg itself. We won the last war but only just, truth be told, and the country is weak and ripe for invasion. They keep slaves in Skania, Tomas, did you know that? Do you have any idea what it is like, to be a Skanian slave? If we fail here, you could well find out.”

  I looked at her and frowned. I’d die before I would be any man’s slave, but, that aside, it seemed to me she had told me much that was supposition and little that was certain.

  “That’s an awful lot of could and might and possibly, to my mind,” I said.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “You’ll find that we deal mostly in could and might and possibly, Tomas. By the time something becomes a certainty it is often too late to do anything about it.”

  “So you could be wasting your time with—” I started, before she interrupted.

  “And don’t be shy about it, my handsome,” she said with a giggle in her barmaid’s voice just as the door opened and Mika stuck his head into the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt, boss,” he said. “Only there’s an old geezer in the bar asking for you. Says his name’s Kurt.”

  I frowned at that but I got up.

  “Keep it warm for later,” I told Ailsa, following her lead and wondering just how good her hearing must be to have known there was someone outside the door.

  Hearing that wasn’t deadened by years of cannon fire was bound to be better than mine, I supposed. She giggled again and I followed Mika into the bar. Old Kurt was there right enough, leaning on a gnarled length of wood and with a shabby cloak around his shoulders. I gave Luka the nod.

  “Give him a beer on the house,” I said.

  I let Kurt have a sip of his beer, then took him by the elbow and steered him to a table in the corner. Mika came and stood with his back to my table and his arms crossed in front of him, sending a clear message that we weren’t to be disturbed. Mika could think for himself, as Fat Luka had said, and that was good.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked the old man.

  “Having a drink”—Kurt grinned at me—“and I thank you for it. I came to see how this boy of yours slept last night, of course.”

  “Well enough,” I said, and Old Kurt nodded his narrow, ratty head.

  “I thought as much,” he said. “You’ll want me to look at him, then.”

  “I will,” I said, “but not here. Never here, Kurt. This is Anne’s worry and only her and I know about it, and I want it kept that way. I don’t want you at the Tanner’s, spreading fear and superstition among my men.”

  “So Old Kurt’s not welcome among your finery, is that the lay of things?”

  “It is,” I said. “I have respect for you, to a point, but these are simple men, and if they get wind of magic in their midst they’ll raise the gods over it, and then there’s bound to be trouble. I don’t want that.”

  Kurt shrugged.

  “That’s your choice, but if you
keep it from them and then they find out for themselves, you’ll be sorry, you mark my words.”

  He drained his beer in one long, greedy draft, the lump in his scrawny neck working as he swallowed. He thumped the tankard down on the table and got to his feet.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said.

  With that he picked up his stick and left the Tanner’s Arms, leaving me to think on what he had said.

  NINETEEN

  By the next day I had made a decision on that.

  Old Kurt was right, I knew. If I hid Billy’s gift from the crew and something gave it away, then all my attempts to instill order and discipline would have been wasted. There would be panic and anger, and then there would probably be blood. The men knew Billy was touched by the goddess, and that was one thing, but it would only take someone else to say “witch” and it would all go to the whores in a heartbeat.

  These were religious men, in their way, and acts of the goddess were all well and good, to their minds. I doubted a single man of them had ever seen a magician, but they knew they existed and they were well and good too, and even folk like Old Kurt got a wary sort of respect. Breathe the word witch, though, and there was fear and violence. I wasn’t sure I could see a difference, myself, but then it wasn’t something I much cared about. Priest I might be, but if I’ll confess anything it’s that I’m a sight less religious than most of my crew were.

  Of course if we had been in Dannsburg this would have been easy. I could have taken Billy to the house of magicians and told them he had the gift, let them test him, and paid them for his schooling. Talented children were always in demand in Dannsburg, so I had heard, but we were in Ellinburg and there was no house of magicians here. There was just Old Kurt, and I knew that would have to be how I sold this to the crew.

  I took Fat Luka out to the stable for a quiet word. Cookpot was grooming the horses and Simple Sam was mucking out, so we kept on walking until we were in the alley behind the tavern. I was starting to feel how cramped it was at the Tanner’s with so many men sleeping there, and it was chafing at me. Will the Woman and Sir Eland were living in the house on Chandler’s Narrow now, of course, and Brak was with my aunt, for which I could almost feel sorry for him. Even with that, though, we were still too many under one roof.

  “What’s the lay of things?” I asked Luka once we were finally away from listening ears.

  “Jochan’s brooding, like I said he would, but he hasn’t made trouble yet,” Luka said. “Grieg had some hard words to say about you breaking his face until some of the others got to the truth of why you did it, and now he’s got more bruises than he can count. Everyone took that ill, I reckon, and he got a good kicking. You shouldn’t ought to hit whores, and I reckon even Grieg knows that now.”

  I nodded. That was well enough.

  “How’s Cookpot?”

  “Fat-faced and stupid, same as usual,” Luka said. “He’s been a bit quiet, though.”

  “You keep a close eye on Cookpot,” I told him. “He’s got the battle shock worse than he lets on. I’m not sure he’s suited to this life.”

  “Right,” Luka said. “Anything else you need?”

  “There is,” I said, “and this is important. It’s about Billy the Boy.”

  “What about him?”

  “You know Billy’s touched by the goddess,” I said, and Luka nodded. “Well, I think he has a bit of the cunning in him too, and that’s good. It’s good, but it’s not something I know how to help him learn. So Old Kurt, the man who came to see me yesterday, he’s a cunning man. You remember Old Kurt from back when we were boys, Luka?”

  “I know the name,” Luka said, and now he looked a bit uncomfortable. “Can’t say I’ve had anything to do with him. People say . . . well, you know how folk are. People say things.”

  “He’s a cunning man,” I said again, “and all that means is he’s a magician who hasn’t had the schooling. Like Doc Cordin is to a doctor, you understand? There’s nothing wrong in it.”

  “I heard he did witchcraft, down in the Wheels,” Luka said.

  I leaned very close to Luka, and put my hand on the back of his neck while I spoke softly in his ear.

  “If I hear that word again, Fat Luka, I won’t be able to let it pass,” I said. “That’s the very word I don’t want to hear spoken, not by you or anyone else, do you understand me? Billy is touched by the goddess and he might have it in him to become a magician if he gets some teaching, and those are good things. Those things are good for Billy, and they’re good for the Pious Men too. I need to know that you understand that.”

  I heard Luka swallow, and he nodded.

  “Right, boss,” he said.

  “Good,” I said, and let go of his neck. “Now, Billy is going to learn from Old Kurt, and he might have to go to the Wheels to do it. I know that isn’t ideal, but there it is. If there were a house of magicians in Ellinburg he’d be going there, but there’s not and that’s not something I can change. What I need from you is to make sure everyone in that tavern understands what a good thing this is, and how nobody wants to make any fuss over it. Can you do that for me, Fat Luka?”

  Luka nodded, and I patted him on the shoulder and pressed a silver mark into his hand. Luka might fear magic, but he loved silver more.

  We went back through the yard as Cookpot and Simple Sam were finishing up in the stables. I put my hand on Cookpot’s shoulder to keep him back.

  “A little word,” I said.

  The others left us in peace, standing there among the smell of freshly raked stables and clean horseflesh, and I looked into Cookpot’s round, sweaty face.

  “I set you something to think on yesterday,” I reminded him. “Have you made a decision yet, Cookpot? Only I can’t have a man here who’s not committed to what we do, I’m sure you understand that.”

  “I . . . I don’t know that I can do it,” he admitted, “but I don’t want to leave, neither. I went to war and back with you and Jochan and Luka, and we met Anne and all the lads. You . . . you’re all I’ve got, Mr. Piety.”

  I knew Cookpot didn’t have any family. His ma had died just before we went off to war, and it had only ever been the two of them since we were children. I could understand what he was getting at. All the same, he wasn’t from my streets and if he couldn’t be a Pious Man, then why should I feed him? I thought on that for a moment, and I looked around the yard. My gaze settled on the stables, and Our Lady gave me my answer.

  “I saw you grooming the horses earlier,” I said. “It needed doing but I never told you to do it, so that was well done. Do you like horses, Cookpot?”

  “I do,” he admitted. “I’ve never rode one, but I like them all the same. They’re noble beasts, are horses.”

  I wasn’t sure about that, but I nodded to keep him happy. I had seen enough horses torn to pieces by cannon to think that they were no nobler than men were, and that was to say not very. That wasn’t anything Cookpot needed to hear, though.

  “Might be I need a groom,” I said. “That could be you, Cookpot. You won’t be a Pious Man, and you won’t earn silver like those who are, but you’ll have a place here and a job and a roof over your head. Does that sound good?”

  He looked up at me, and there were tears in his eyes.

  “It does, Mr. Piety,” he whispered. “It sounds very good indeed.”

  “That’s done, then,” I said. “Be sure and tell the crew, so everyone knows the lay of things.”

  Cookpot nodded and hurried off into the tavern, and he looked like a great weight had been taken off his shoulders.

  The weight of a cannon, maybe.

  I looked at our four horses, and I knew very well that I didn’t need a groom. Not for four horses I didn’t. I was being soft on Cookpot, I knew I was, but then I felt like he had earned it. He had kept us fed at Abingon, when the supply lines were cut and some companie
s were starving. A forager like Cookpot had been worth five fighting men, to my mind, and I owed him for that. He was hurt because of it, hurt in the mind where it doesn’t show to a casual eye.

  He had made it all the way home and then he had killed a man, because of a situation I had put him in. I knew that had hurt him even more. I owed him a soft job, and some peace.

  That was how I made it right with Cookpot, the only way I knew how.

  * * *

  • • •

  The tavern was open again that evening, but we didn’t have so many customers as we’d had the day before. The brandy drinkers were all gone, no doubt having seen what they needed to see and gone off to whisper in their masters’ ears. The few patrons we had left were all faces I recognized from the surrounding streets.

  Sir Eland came to see me that night, and that surprised me. I still didn’t trust Sir Eland, and truth be told, I had been greatly enjoying his absence. The false knight joined me at my table, and I could feel his narrow, weaselly eyes on me.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He had something on his mind, I could tell.

  “A bunch of the crew came to Chandler’s Narrow, night before last,” he said.

  “Aye, I know.”

  “Billy the Boy was with them.”

  Again I nodded, and waited for him to work his way around to his point. If he had some sort of complaint about the crew, then he should be taking it to Bloody Anne, to my mind, not bothering me with it, but he was there now so I’d hear him out.

  “What of it? Jochan said they didn’t get him a woman anyway.”

  “No, they didn’t,” Sir Eland said. “They left him with me.”

  “And?”

  The false knight swallowed and looked down at the table, and I could see the fear in him.

  “You can trust me,” he said, so quiet I almost didn’t catch his words. “I know you think you can’t, but you can. Maybe I was jealous when your brother came back, I’ll admit that. Maybe I haven’t shown you as much respect as I should have done, and I apologize for it. I might not be a real knight, I’ll accept that you know that, but I’m a real Pious Man now. I’ll prove it to you somehow, when I get the chance. Just . . . just don’t send that boy to me again.”