Among Thieves totk-1

by Douglas Hulick

  Of the four Blades who have come after me, I know one was hired by my sister, and I suspect a second. Both times, I have taken the assassin’s weapons and left them in her bed. Needless to say, this has done nothing to make amends between us.

  The reasons behind both attempts were different, but the underlying motive was the same: fear. Christiana fears I will reveal myself and the favors I have done for her in the past and thus ruin her at court. That she is a former courtesan and the widow of a baron means nothing in that world-or rather, if anything, they help her. Status and political influence are measured differently in the Imperial Court, and I don’t pretend to understand the games involved in determining that pecking order. But I do know that, of the many things that can ruin you, bringing in outside influences, especially criminal ones, is tantamount to cutting your political throat. Assuming you get caught at it, of course. But if you do, and your brother is a member of the Kin as well?

  Well…

  The thing is, despite all our differences and history, I wouldn’t undercut her like that. Family is family. But Christiana can’t understand that, and so we’ve had our differences in the past, the worst being punctuated by my killing someone and delivering the weapons to her chambers.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t be so vindictive. After all, my first display only made her hire a better assassin the next time around. If I keep this up, she may finally find one good enough to finish the job.

  But I do so enjoy teasing my little sister.

  I sat on the stoop beside the entrance to the apothecary’s shop and sipped my tea. It was my third cup, and by then the brew had become lukewarm, dark, and bitter despite the honey I had added. It fit my mood.

  I set the tea down and took out the message Tamas had brought me.

  The paper of Christiana’s letter was of good quality-dry and heavy to the touch. I knew I could sell it to Baldezar, who would happily scrape it down and reuse the sheet-could, but would not. This letter would be put away with all her others, both the pleasant and the vicious, in the hidden compartment at the bottom of my clothes chest.

  I read its contents again, then watched the paper as it shivered in the breeze.

  A meeting. This evening. She needed to talk to me. Important matters. Her safety at stake.

  The usual.

  In other words, she needed a favor from her brother, the former burglar. Either that, or she was getting impatient for the forgery I was having done for her.

  I ran my finger over the hard wax of the seal on the back of the letter and felt the raised image of her widow’s chop. Audacity there, to display her mark so openly, so proudly, after what she had done to get it. She called me dark, but at least I only killed when it was business. I had liked her husband, Nestor, too.

  A body shifted in the doorway behind me. I turned around, found Cosima looking down at me.

  “Bad news?” she asked. Then, more mischievously, “Lose your sweetheart?”

  I smiled up at the small woman even as I folded Christiana’s letter and slipped it up an unlaced sleeve.

  “Left me for a baron. What could he offer her that I can’t?”

  “Peace and quiet?” said the apothecary’s wife as she sat down beside me. “Emperor forgive me, I sometimes wish Eppyris would drug those two girls so I could have half a day to myself.”

  “I hardly notice them,” I said, just as Renna and Sophia came rushing around the corner and bolted into the house. Renna, the six-year-old, was laughing, but eight-year-old Sophia looked far less amused. The door slammed, followed by shrieks and the sound of feet thumping on wooden floors.

  “Liar,” said Cosima. She watched the door until the noises quieted; then she relaxed.

  Cosima, with her raven hair, her deep brown eyes, and a face that was a near-perfect mixture of clean planes and sculpted curves, must have been stunning when Eppyris had first married her. Even after two children and years of caring for them and her husband, she still drew looks from men on the street, me included. How Eppyris won her, I have no idea, but her presence in their home has earned the apothecary a fair measure of respect in my eyes. My respect for Cosima herself is without measure.

  Today, her hair was tied back, her face flushed, and the front of her apron damp-wash day, then.

  “So, was it bad news?” she asked, pointing at the sleeve where I had secreted the letter.

  “No more than usual.”

  “Who from?”

  I met her eyes, but kept silent.

  “Fine,” she said. “Be that way.”

  “I explained things to you and Eppyris when I moved in.”

  “And I didn’t like it then.”

  I smiled. This was an old battle between us. Cosima didn’t believe in secrets; I didn’t believe in not keeping them.

  “My building, my rules,” I said.

  “Humph.”

  I’d acquired the two-story brick and timber building a couple of years ago from a Kin named Clyther, along with the note to a loan he held on Eppyris. Clyther hadn’t exactly wanted to sell, but the property and arrangement appealed to me, and I had enough on Clyther to change his mind. Once in, I had forgiven the apothecary’s debt in exchange for a silent partnership in his business and had moved into the rooms upstairs. My plan had been to live here just long enough to ensure I was getting my fair cut of the profits, but, somewhere along the way, things had changed. The three rooms above the shop had become a haven from the street, and Eppyris and his family had become a welcome relief from my gritty nights. My smart investment had managed to become my home.

  So much for plans.

  Cosima changed tact. “Your washerwoman stopped by earlier with your clothes,” she said.

  “I saw them at the foot of the stairs. Thanks.”

  “The least you could do is let me bring them up, seeing how you refuse to let me wash them for you.”

  I had a brief image of Cosima lying just inside the door to my rooms, the traps having sprung, her blood and my laundry mingling on the floor.

  “No.”

  “You know I’m going to see that mysterious apartment of yours someday, Drothe.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What are you hiding up there, anyhow?”

  “One of the emperor’s consorts. She’s pregnant, you know-doesn’t want her little royal bastard killed.” Any heir born to the emperor was killed outright. There could be no claimant to the imperial throne, save one of the three incarnations of the emperor himself.

  Cosima elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t even joke about that. Next thing you know, we’ll have imperial guards tearing the place apart.”

  “They’re not allowed in my rooms, either.”

  Cosima gave a small laugh and pointed at my cup. “You want me to brew you up some fresh? I make it better than Eppyris. Angels, anyone makes it better than that man!” She laughed again. It was an exceptionally good laugh.

  “No, thanks. I’ve had enough.”

  “How about something more to eat? I saw that pear you had-not enough for a mouse.”

  “I manage.”

  “Well, maybe I could-”

  “Cosima,” I said, “I’m fine.”

  She paused, then took a small breath. “That bruise on your face says otherwise.”

  I reached up and gingerly felt the place where Nicco had struck me. “A reminder.”

  “Well, I certainly hope you don’t forget whatever it is next time.”

  “I won’t.”

  We sat in silence for a while, then; me watching the passing traffic on Echelon Way without seeing it, her running through conversations without saying them. Finally, Cosima leaned forward and wrung out the bottom of her skirt.

  “It’s not his fault, Drothe.”

  Ah, here it was. I’d been wondering.

  “I’m not mad at Eppyris,” I said.

  “Nor he at you.”

  “I know,” I lied.

  “It’s just that… he’s proud, Drothe. And it’s not as if you’ve
demanded anything of us. A little medicine, some herbs now and then-what’s that? I keep telling him he’d be hobbling around on crutches, selling poultices in the street, if you hadn’t gotten Clyther to-”

  “Cosima,” I said, “leave it be.”

  She bit her lip, and looked wonderful doing it.

  “He’s not an angry man, Drothe. Just…” She let the sentence trail off.

  Just unhappy having a criminal as a landlord. And a neighbor. And a friend to his wife.

  I took a sip of my cold bitter tea. I was just beginning to frame a reply when I noticed a familiar figure coming down the street. I poured the rest of the liquid out on the cobbles and handed the empty cup to Cosima. “Sorry,” I said, my eyes tracking Degan as he approached. “I have to go.”

  Cosima looked from the cup to me, and then followed my gaze down Echelon Way. I saw her shoulders tense.

  “I have to see to the girls, anyway,” she said, standing.

  I laid my hand on her forearm. “It’s all right,” I said. “He’s a friend.”

  “For you, maybe.” Cosima summoned a feeble smile and shuddered. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned back toward the shop. Even after all this time, any other Kin besides me made Cosima nervous-shades of Clyther.

  I stepped out into Echelon Way and waited for Degan. Behind me, I heard the door shut.

  “You busy?” I asked as he came up.

  “Hello to you, too. And, no,” said Degan.

  The question was a courtesy on my part. You could always tell when Bronze Degan was working-he vanished. One day here, the next day gone. A week, two weeks, sometimes a month. And then, just as suddenly, he would be back, laughing, gambling, and wasting time as if nothing had happened. I had made some inquiries early on in our friendship, both of him and others, to find out where he disappeared to, what he was doing-and gotten nothing. I, the Nose, came up empty, and Degan had just smiled at my complaints.

  Damn his sense of humor, anyhow.

  “What did you have in mind?” asked Degan.

  “I need someone to watch my blinders tonight.”

  “There’s a surprise.”

  “This is a bit tougher,” I said. Degan raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

  “I need to go into Ten Ways.”

  The smile faltered. “Ah.” He considered a moment. “Death wish?”

  “Hardly.”

  Degan nodded. “Just checking.”

  Chapter Six

  “Looks the same,” said Degan. “Smells worse.”

  “This is rose hips and perfume compared to the summer,” I said, “and we’re not even inside yet.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  We stood at the edge of Ten Ways. Before us, the scarred archway that led into the cordon stood gaping, its doors long ago torn down and carted off. To either side, the walls of the cordon stretched off into the distance, separating Ten Ways from the city, or the city from Ten Ways, depending on your point of view.

  Ten Ways is an old cordon in an even older city. Ildrecca dates back more than a millennium, the center of kingdoms and empires long before the line of Dorminikos made it its own. It is a city of growing palaces and crumbling temples, worked stone and shattered ruins, where you can jump over a wall at street level and end up in a private sunken garden or on someone’s laundry-covered roof. Dig down and you find the broken fragments of history; look up, and you see the growing glory of the future.

  There are any number of stories about why Ten Ways is called Ten Ways: because on every block there are ten ways to die; because there are only ten safe ways out of the cordon; because every person in the cordon knows at least ten ways to rob you; and so on. The best one I’ve heard is that it was named after a whore who… Well, let’s just say she was imaginative when it came to keeping multiple clients pleased at the same time.

  Charming anecdotes aside, the cordon is one of the oldest of the old. Search through ancient maps and records of the city and you find incarnations of Ten Ways running back to the well before the reign of the Undying Dorminikos, when it was the cordon of choice for the wealthy and learned. Almost all of the buildings are much more recent, of course, but there were times late at night, in the cellars that passed for wine dens here, I’d have sworn I heard the voices of eight hundred years of history dripping from the walls. Maybe it was the cheap vintages combined with the smoke, but I can’t believe that so much time, and so many souls, can pass through a place and not leave bits and pieces of themselves behind.

  “Do you know where to find this Dealer?” asked Degan. I had told him I was looking for a fence named Fedim, but not why.

  “Not yet,” I said. “Right now, we walk and watch. I need to relearn the lay of the land. If we’re lucky, some of my old contacts may still be around.”

  “And if we’re not lucky?”

  “Some of my old contacts may still be around.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that it’s going to end up being an unlucky night?” said Degan.

  I ignored him.

  Much of the cordon was as I remembered it. The main thoroughfare, Solace Way, was broad for Ten Ways and narrow for any other part of Ildrecca. Nearly half of its cobbles were missing, and the rest were covered over with mud and refuse, making the footing tricky. Side streets were little more than alleys, and the alleys little more than near-accidental spaces between buildings. What little sky we could see was smudged over with smoke, hiding the stars.

  The buildings themselves were a jumble of old and not as old, all running to ruin. Roughly one in five was missing a roof, walls, or some other critical portion of architecture. Here and there, I saw a flower box, a tiny garden, a newly painted lintel-attempts by the Lighters to make their fragment of the cordon more respectable, more homey. While it might have made them feel better, to me it only underscored the desolation of the place.

  I felt eyes upon us the whole time. We needed no sign, had to speak no word to be spotted as outsiders by the Kin of Ten Ways. Street traffic was low this time of afternoon. I saw no one following us, but I didn’t believe that to be true for a moment.

  I paused on corners and in doorways, asking after old names, slipping the occasional coin to jog memories. Most of my former contacts had either vanished or become tight-lipped. I wasn’t local anymore, and that meant I wasn’t to be trusted. I couldn’t turn up anything on Nicco, or Kells, or even on the Dealer I had been sent to find, Fedim.

  Finally, when I had paid three different Kin to track down one of my more reliable sources from a decade back-a Whisperer named Elek-only to find he had died six months ago, I lost my temper.

  “So who the hell has taken over for him?” I demanded of the ragpicker who had informed me of Elek’s demise-after I had paid her for the privilege.

  “That’d be, ah… ah… ” she began, before breaking into a nervous coughing fit.

  “Eliza,” said a dark voice off to the side.

  I looked over and saw a cloaked figure sitting in a doorway. His outline was barely visible, so well did his clothing match the shadows.

  “Silent Eliza?” I asked.

  The man nodded, or should I say, the cowl of his hood did.

  “Where is she standing now?” I asked.

  “Rose and Castle.”

  I knew the tavern. I tossed a copper owl his way, saw him pluck it out of the air. He chuckled as I walked off down the street. Degan eyed me as we went, but he refrained from saying anything.

  Silent Eliza was anything but; she was loud, raucous, and still one of the best Ears there was in Ten Ways. When people think you are too busy talking to listen, they let things slip. It cost me more than I would have liked to get the information from her, but a jug of wine and a handful of hawks passed under the table got us directions after an hour or so of listening to her go on about… everything.

  The sun was just beginning to edge below the horizon when we left the Rose and Castle. We had only gone a few blocks before Degan nudged my arm.

  �
�That’s the third one in as many blocks,” he said.

  “What?” I said.

  “Ahrami.”

  I looked down and found myself slipping the pouch back beneath my shirt. Sure enough, I could feel a seed under my tongue, softening.

  “And?” I said.

  Degan shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “It’s not as if I enjoy being here,” I said.

  “Of course not.”

  “I worked my ass off getting out of this damn place. Coming back is the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “And then being charged four damn hawks by ’Liza for the location of Fedim’s shop?” I said. “That’s just insulting.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  We walked on, turned a corner.

  “So, what’s bothering you?” asked Degan.

  “I just told you,” I said.

  Degan nodded. “So you did.”

  “Then leave off.”

  “Of course.”

  We cut down another alley. It was darker than the others we had been taking, the buildings closer on either side. My night vision began to awaken, highlighting the squalor around us in deep amber. The smell of urine and rotting meat grew stronger.

  “So,” said Degan.

  I kept silent, instead eyeing the shadows as we walked.

  “So,” he said again.

  Damn!

  “Look, I’m here to lean on a Dealer for Nicco, all right?” I said. “Let’s just focus on that and get it done. The sooner I’m out of this hellhole, the better!”

  “I just-” began Degan, but he stopped as a shape slid out of a doorway farther down the alley. A moment later, three more forms bled from the shadows to join it. Behind us, someone cleared his throat.

  We were surrounded.

  Degan didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his sword sliding from its scabbard in easy time with his movement. “Front,” he said as he moved to meet the four figures lined up across the alley.