by Mary Corran
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh yes you do. And you’ll help me. If you don’t, I inform the Treasurer you’ve been stealing, and you’ll get the brand on your face. Which is it to be?’
There was plainly no point in arguing. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You’ll find out. Now, are you coming?’
She had to make up her mind quickly. If she refused, there might be no time to get out of the city before they came to arrest her; if she agreed to what he wanted, whatever it was, he might let her be. ‘I’ll come.’
‘I thought you’d see sense. Over here. We get out this way.’
She joined him by the window and saw how he had been able to gain access to her room. The window overlooked the erstwhile stableyard, but was close enough to the wall circling the inn and stables to be reached by means of a long wooden ladder balanced on wall and window-ledge. Peering out, she could make out a dark figure straddling the wall holding the ladder in place at the far end, perhaps twenty feet away.
‘You go first. Hurry. There’s not much time left.’ His hand was at her back. Reluctantly, she climbed on to the ledge as Stern steadied the ladder, then began to crawl, the ladder shifting beneath her weight. As she reached the wall a hand was extended to her, drawing her on to sit beside the dark figure.
‘Jump down. It’s not far, and they’ll catch you.’ The voice sounded younger and more friendly than Stern’s. Asher could make out two intensely blue eyes and a snub nose above crooked teeth. One of the eyes closed in a wink.
She braced herself, then let herself drop to the ground, feeling her left ankle give on impact; but at once there was a hand at her elbow, and she was standing undamaged.
‘He’s just coming,’ the man on the wall hissed down.
‘About time, too! The watch’ll be round in a minute.’ The man who spoke was large, with a grumpy voice; his smaller companion merely grunted. The big man did not, however, release his grip on Asher, the hand that had supported her creeping to her waist and attempting to move further up. She slapped it away irritably.
‘Stop that!’
‘No harm in it, is there, missy?’ the big man whispered amiably. His features were obscured in the same way as the others, but nothing could disguise his thick neck and bulging stomach. The hand returned to its search with an insistence that was painful.
‘Oh, let her be, Bull.’ the younger man jumped down from his perch to join them as the small man accepted the ladder from Stern. ‘This isn’t a social event!’
‘Quiet, all of you. Let’s get moving.’ Stern appeared beside Asher, and the Bull’s hand dropped, much to her relief. ‘That way.’ He pointed east, down a narrow, winding alley.
‘Where are we going?’ Asher whispered to the young man.
‘Down to the sea, and the Almaine Dock. Come on.’
Stern led the way, keeping Asher at the centre of the line, making it impossible for her to break away. She was unpleasantly aware of the big man and his companion at her back, and found herself half-hoping they would meet the guard as they followed Stern in a circuitous route down unfamiliar streets lying deserted in the hours of curfew; but they encountered no one, and she gathered from her companions’ whispered conversation that they had some knowledge of the regularly patrolled routes, and were deliberately avoiding them.
They came to the shipbuilding yards; she saw masts, and smelled the familiar scents of wood-shavings and tar, but they did not stop. Instead, Stern led them north and east, to the sea and the tall warehouse buildings surrounding the Almaine Dock on all sides, leaving only a narrow sea channel at the centre that led east out into the harbour.
‘Here.’ Stern looked quickly left and right, then gestured to the young man. ‘You — Hare. Get going.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Asher whispered urgently.
Stern was still watching the street, but he grinned. ‘We’re going to make our Chief Councillor a little poorer.’ He spat. ‘Not that he’d notice.’
‘Avorian?’ she said involuntarily. ‘You’re going to break into his warehouse?’ She looked up at the apparently impenetrable building, a rectangle three storeys high and some three hundred feet long. The facade was dark and shuttered, windows and loading bays firmly closed, doors locked and barred. Even the gates, carefully spaced, which guarded the passages leading through the building to the dock behind, were locked. Hare was standing in front of one of them, beckoning to her.
‘Put this in the lock.’ He held out something that looked like an outsize sewing needle. Seeing she hesitated, he added anxiously: ‘You are what Stern says? The hex-wards won’t hurt you?’
Everything abruptly fell into place. The warehouses owned by wealthy merchants would be heavily guarded, especially now when they were filled with the cargoes of ships recently arrived in port. Hare was a pick-lock but even he could not break in to the warehouses with impunity, because, unlike herself, he was vulnerable to the deadly effects of wards like the one that had killed the girl in the Treasury.
‘No, they won’t hurt me.’ She took the needle and inserted it confidently into the lock. When she was a child, Callith and Mallory had dared her to break into a hex-warded jewel case belonging to their mother, just to see if it was true no harm would come to her, although the ward was only set to sting, not to kill. She remembered the slight prickling sensation against her skin. There had been trouble about that; she could recall it all too vividly.
Back in the present, she still felt nothing, no stirring of force; evidently, the gates were not regarded as major points of security.
‘Quickly, Hare, and you, Club. Get ready,’ Stern urged impatiently. There was a click, and the gate opened. Hare passed through, followed by the small man. Stern shepherded Asher and Bull inside the first, waiting as Hare unlocked the gate at the far end of the passage, through which Asher could make out moonlight shining on the water in the dock, where two men were patrolling the sides. The second gate opened, and Club disappeared noiselessly through it. Hare returned.
‘The door next?’
Stern nodded. ‘And hurry. The guard’ll be round soon.’
‘I hope Club is as good as he says. I don’t want one of the guards ringing the alarm bell.’ Hare flicked a glance at the empty street, then beckoned to Asher again. ‘Would you be so kind? I don’t trust our revered councillors not to ward these locks.’
‘All right.’ Again, Asher took the pick from him and followed him back to the street to a wide wooden door reinforced with brass studs. She wondered why she was putting up no protest. Was it because the whole affair seemed like the continuation of a dream? It seemed impossible that she could, physically, be here in this place, about to take part in a theft from Avorian’s warehouses. She both liked and respected the Chief Councillor.
But what choice do I have? Either this, or take the risk Stern meant what he said and be arrested for stealing from the Treasury. For a moment, she hesitated, knowing the honourable thing to do would be to call out and summon the guard, or alert the watchmen by the dock. Yet if she did, at best she might find herself enslaved for embezzlement, and at worst in the Kamiri Games arena, fighting for her life against impossible odds for their amusement. Avorian was rich; petty pilfering would not impoverish him. And no matter how much she might like to tell herself otherwise, her own record was hardly spotless; over the past six months she had taken at least twenty gold pieces from the Treasury purse, even if the money was for what she would call good causes.
Put like that, the choice was more easily made; she inserted the pick in the lock.
Instantly, a violent spark leaped on to her hand, and she experienced a stinging sensation all over her body as more followed it, flowing up her fingers and over her hand. They were not precisely painful, but felt as if blunt needles were trying, unsuccessfully, to pierce her skin, bouncing harmlessly over the unbroken surface. Energies flowed around but could not touch her, seeking entry and finding none, the b
right sparks extinguished on contact. Somewhere in the lock a ward had been set, made from green schist or carnelian, like the Treasury wards, designed to activate as any unauthorized object was placed in the warehouse lock. The only question was how long would be the duration of its activity.
As the last spark died, with a mocking bow Hare took her place at the door and Asher saw his sensitive fingers probe and juggle the pick.
‘There. Now — after you. Just in case.’ He stood back and gestured her to lead the way.
This is my last chance to draw back.
Asher was never sure what her decision would have been, but when she took a step back she found Bull standing behind her; evidently Stern had anticipated a refusal, and taken action to ensure her compliance. Reluctantly, she pulled at the heavy door; it opened easily, the hinges well-oiled. A shove from Bull sent her through the doorway into a vast space piled high with dark shapes.
‘Is it safe?’ Stern whispered.
‘There’s nothing here.’ Asher could feel no other wards. ‘You can come in now.’
Hare was the first to follow, not without encouragement from Bull. It was dark inside the warehouse, and Asher could not see his face, but his breathing came fast.
‘Lock and bar the door, quickly.’ Stern lit an oil lantern as he spoke. ‘Then come upstairs. We want the uppermost floor. Asher — lead the way.’
‘Move!’ Bull’s hand was at her neck. She swallowed, glancing about at the goods displayed in the light from the lantern, seeing piled hides, furs, and barrels of wine and ale stored round the walls. The stairway was in the centre of the space.
As she reached the top of the first flight, she thought she heard a faint growling noise. From behind, someone whispered uneasily: ‘Stop!’
The sound came again, followed by irregular clicking sounds. Someone — Stern, she thought — lifted the lantern, and Asher suddenly saw what was making the noises; only paces in front of her, head lowered, hindquarters slightly flattened in preparation for the spring, waited the largest cat she had ever seen. Red eyes stared at her unblinkingly, huge in the lanternlight; the fur was unrelieved black, the cat’s paws the size of her own hands.
‘Hold still.’ She recognized the voice as Bull’s. She felt movement behind her, and sweat began to trickle down her back; if the cat should leap, she was its primary target. The beast was beautiful, its fur glistening, tail swishing, but it was a deadly and deceiving beauty; the mouth was half-open in a snarl, jaws ready to close about her throat.
She was pulled to the ground as the cat launched itself into the air and Bull threw something towards it, a net of heavy mesh weighted with pieces of metal attached to the edges. The cat snarled as the force of its own leap caused it to become deeply entangled in the net, and instead of landing on top of Asher it fell short and crashed heavily to the floor, thrashing about frantically at the unfamiliar restraint. Claws flashed out, tearing at the mesh, and the long teeth ground and champed, but, to Asher’s intense relief, the net held.
‘Go on. I’ll deal with this.’ Bull stepped warily toward the cat, whose red eyes glowed with a fierce hatred. Asher moved on, shaking, keeping her distance, and climbed the second flight.
‘Fates, that was close!’ Hare mopped his brow as he joined her.
‘What was it?’
‘An Asiri watch-cat.’ His hands, too, were shaking. ‘No one told us there was one here.’
‘Bull seemed to know.’
Hare gave her a look. ‘He did, didn’t he?’ There was a pause. Stern, who had waited halfway up the stairs, climbed the remaining steps, still carrying the lantern.
‘Bull’s dealt with it,’ he said sharply. ‘Get those loading doors open. No — not the ones facing the street, fools! The ones looking out on the dock.’
Hare and Asher crossed to the wooden panels built into the far wall, which were bolted and barred shut. ‘Help me, will you?’ Hare asked shakily. Asher nodded, lifting one end of the heavy bar. Together they dealt with the bolts, and pushed at the panels. They swung out, to reveal a square platform looking over the dock.
‘Now get out of the way. This is Bull’s job.’ Stern gestured with his head.
Asher sneezed as her feet disturbed dust on the floor. ‘What’s in all those sacks?’ she asked Hare, who had slumped down into a crouch.
‘Spices. Pepper, mostly, but saffron, cumin, and salt too. All from eastern Petormin; nothing but the best for our Chief Councillor.’
‘All of them?’ Asher stared. The floor was piled high with sacks, too many to count. Now she knew what they contained, she could smell the dryness in the air; the warehouse was rich with it, tickling her nose. She wondered how much it was all worth. Pepper was the most valuable and most profitable of all trade items, light and easy to transport, and it could be stored for years.
‘It’s what we came for. We’re only taking a dozen or so — the boat won’t hold much more,’ Hare said, sounding more natural. ‘Enough for my share, at any rate.’
‘Why did you come?’ Asher found it hard, remembering his anxiety on her behalf at the gate, to think of Hare as a hardened thief.
‘Six younger brothers and sisters, and low wages.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘We’re going to buy a smallholding and live on it. We’ll net almost enough from tonight’s work; a sack’s worth sixty gold pieces — ten librium weight in each.’
Asher made some quick mental calculations. A dozen sacks of pepper — seven hundred and twenty gold pieces, divided by four. That made one hundred and eighty for Hare. Not quite enough for his purpose.
‘This is only the second time we’ve been out together,’ he observed, guessing the track of her thoughts. ‘But the other wasn’t as profitable as this. And there’s the four watchmen to take into account.’
‘I saw only two.’
‘There’re four, one for the warning bell at each corner, but two of them are in with us. Club looked after the other pair. He’s a dirty fighter.’
‘I see.’ She watched Bull heft a heavy sack, lifting it easily over to the loading platform and attaching it to the pulley used to raise and lower the merchandise. Presumably a boat was waiting in the dock below.
For the first time, it occurred to her to worry about what would happen to her when Stern and his friends had finished their looting.
‘Club deals with the watchmen. I pick the locks. Bull does the heavy stuff, and Stern found you — and knows how to get rid of the goods.’ Hare was looking at Asher. ‘You watch yourself. Club’s a bad man, and not fond of women. And Bull — he likes them too much, if you understand me.’
‘Thanks.’ She tried not to sound ironic. As Bull lowered the seventh sack, she found herself wishing she had thought of a way to prevent the theft, feeling that by her compliance she had betrayed not only Avorian but herself. What was she doing here?
There are worse things than theft. It was true, but no consolation to her conscience. She looked up and caught Bull’s eye on her, and realized that even if she’d tried to escape, she would never have reached the stairs.
She counted thirteen sacks being lowered before Stern beckoned to her and Hare.
‘We’re leaving now. Down the rope — you first, Hare.’ The young man nodded and stepped on to the platform, his shabby trousers now covered with dust, leaving Asher alone with Bull and Stern, who gestured her to follow. ‘You come too. We’ll need you again.’
‘No.’ The refusal was instinctive. ‘Never, Stern.’
‘You’ll get a share.’
‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t want one. Just don’t ask me again.’ Despite the good use to which she knew she could put the money, she shied away in revulsion from the prospect. What if this was Mallory’s warehouse? her uncomfortable conscience demanded. Would you have done the same, just to save yourself? Her skin prickled with shame.
‘Get down the rope into the boat, there’s no time to argue. The tide’s on the turn.’
Asher peered down, barely able to make ou
t the shape of the long rowboat below, bobbing up and down in the water in the rectangle of the dock. Carefully, she grasped the rope in her hands and lowered herself, gritting her teeth against the roughness on her palms, rubbing the skin raw. It was only fifty feet or less, but felt much further, and she was terrified of slipping and falling, upsetting the boat.
‘Careful!’ A hand steadied her, then drew her to one end of the boat. It was Club, and when she sat down in the bow she saw he held a knife in his right hand, pointed at her midriff. ‘No sound until we’re well away from here. Understand?’ She nodded mutely.
The other two joined them. Bull sitting in the centre, taking both oars in his beefy hands. Stern released the rope and the boat began to move away from the mooring with steady swiftness as Bull drew long, efficient strokes, barely breaking the water. The dock was in the shadow of the surrounding buildings, and Asher could make out no movement anywhere; no bell tolled to summon the guard. The boat slipped out into the narrow channel, then past the customs house at the mouth of the inlet and out into the harbour proper.
To the south, the harbour was protected by a natural promontory stretching out several hundred feet and curving round until it reached the deeper water towards the centre. Bull followed its line, keeping his distance, the boat now too far out to be seen easily from the shore for the night was overcast. Only a light breeze stirred the water, but the weight of the sacks had lowered the level of the boat, and sea-water began to slop in until Asher’s feet were awash. Obedient to Club’s knife, she remained still and silent.
They were heading north, towards Fishermen’s Quay, as Asher had expected; the old quarter was awash with goods that were stolen or had paid no duty. She looked up at the town, her gaze rising, irresistibly, to the hill behind, up to the peak, to the high walls of the citadel of the Oracle, where a bright light still burned.
