“That’s…pretty late.”
“Last night I gave up dinner with my woman, and tomorrow night I won’t be eating. I never eat, before a big one. A meeting is important, but the thirteenth is the earliest I can be there.”
“All right. And I’ll have the rope.”
“Good,” Hanse said, and swung away to head for Mignureal’s stall. Whether Thuvarandis stared after him Hanse never knew; he did not glance back.
*
He had already told her that he’d meet her at the stall and they’d go home and eat, because he had to go out. He assured her that he wanted her to wait up and repeated that before he left for his meeting with the men he called the Longfaced Four. He had also told her he was going to test them.
Hatless, he was enveloped by the dull black cloak he had just bought. Under it he wore five visible knives and Sinajhal’s sword. He walked rapidly but never so fast that his feet came down on his heels. He stared straight ahead, wearing his forbidding look and seeming to glide. The long night-coloured cloak made him look a lot taller. A young couple approaching him, walking arm in arm, stepped off the curb into the street while he passed. He did not glance at them.
In the extremely dimly lit Rampant Goat, he had to squint, but saw no one he knew.
“You look like the party a fellow in back’s waiting for,” the bartender said; he had two thumbs and nine fingers and greasy-looking black ringlets hanging down all around his face. “Yer name Shad?”
“Aye. You know what would be a great name for this place? The Vulgar Goat!”
“Rampant works all right. Through that curtain. Want something?”
“A cup of good beer,” Hanse said, looking around. He saw that same extra pretty, beautifully shaped woman, and the moment they made eye contact she started toward him. He took the grey mug, said, “The party in back is paying,” and walked that way. She cut around a table, eluded a reaching hand, and intercepted him.
“Headin’ for the back room?”
He nodded.
“Should I wait for you?”
He shook his head.
“This’ a one-way attraction, huh?”
Hanse almost smiled at that. “No. You know what you look like. It just isn’t going to happen.” He turned halfway around to call, “The party in back’s buying her one, too!” Then he stepped around her and went on back behind the old forest green curtain. They were there, all four of them, sitting around a table with four cups and a candle.
He swept back his cloak. “Anyone recognize this sword-hilt?”
“Ashes and embers!” Shorty swore. “That’s Sinajhal’s!”
While they noted his knives, Hanse told them about Sinajhal, and his partner.
“Anyone know his name?” He described the man.
Shorty sighed and nodded. “Ravas,” he said quietly.
“R-r-ravas?” That’s an r sound, Hanse thought, when Shorty nodded.
“You’re that bad, hmm?” That was Marll. “Why tell us? Why the dramatic flashing of a dead stand-man’s sword?”
Hanse let the questions lie there. “I scouted Corstic’s house for a long time today, on horseback. The wall is simple. Here, I drew a map, later. Look, now, and remember. Shorty, we need some real noise over here, on this side, to pull the dogs and maybe a guard or two. I saw three dogs and a pup. The pup could be the noisiest, bear in mind. Can you handle that?”
Shorty gave him a look, and nodded.
“I go over the wall right here, off a horse. Who else is going in?”
Thuvarandis stood and stretched. “We all are. And two others. Shadow, I apologize. We failed to tell you two things. We didn’t start thinking about this on just yesterday or last week. Shorty is assistant cook for Corstic. That’s our long-term advance planning. Corstic will be gone, and no one is going to be awake. That includes servants and dogs. On the other hand, we won’t use the gate, just the same.”
“Over the wall,” Malingasa said.
“I lose a nice job tomorrow night,” Shorty said, with mock despair.
“So you didn’t tell me and let me plan and think and work all this out,” Shadowspawn snarled. “What else don’t I know, damn you?”
“Don’t,” Malingasa said in a low, dangerous voice, “be damning me, Southerner.”
“Oh, sorry,” Shadowspawn said, in an even quieter voice. “Would you please just look at the dart target on that wall?”
Automatically they turned to look, and in ten or eleven seconds Hanse put three knives into the target. None quite touched another. Eight eyes turned back his way to stare. Malingasa looked really mean. Hanse walked past them to retrieve his blades and let them watch while he slipped them back into their sheaths.
He said, “Well?”
“Very…impressive,” Marll said.
“That’s what I mean. A man has to do something when he’s angered; you expect me to waste these hands hitting a wall? So last night you weren’t sure enough of me to tell me about Shorty’s job there, even though I asked. So what else don’t I know? Wait, answer this one instead. Corstic will positively be at a meeting of the City Council, and both dogs and staff will be asleep. True?”
They nodded; looked at Shorty. He said, “I’ll take care of their food. Corstic will never know, see, because I know he’s made himself immune to all drugs. He’ll come into town for the meeting. A while later, everyone else will drop off.” With a smile, Shorty shrugged and spread his hands.
Hanse said, “Huh! Then why do we need a wall-climber when you could let us in the front door?”
“Because he closes off the whole upper floor the moment he comes down and I know there are wards on the doors. It’s got to be from outside.”
“Huh!” Hanse swung away, turned back with a dramatic rustling of the black cloak. “Something else no one bothered to tell me! I think maybe we should wait until next Ganeday, to see if you don’t think of something else still that the poor southerner doesn’t know.”
They looked at each other. Thuvarandis spoke.
“That’s our story, Shadowspawn. I will swear it. And you’re right. Last night we were not sufficiently sure of you. Now it’s obvious that you have worked all day, for us and this project. I willingly apologize again, but you are a cautious man who understands our caution. Would you please proceed?”
“Shorty,” Hanse said after giving them all a look, “all I need is an arrow around a sort of gable-thing way up there above a certain window, with a lot of silk line on it. Thuvarandis has the line.”
Hanse paused to look at the tall man. Thuvarandis bent, grunted, and came up with yards and yards of coiled rope.
“Beautiful,” Hanse said. “Shorty, can you do that? I’m no expert with a bow, but an arrow sure is a great way to get a climbin’ rope hitched way up high. I’ve done it.”
“I can do that, Shadowspawn.”
“What are these marks on the map, Professional?”
“This big jagged circle is a patch of grass that doesn’t look like the rest. That makes me suspicious and I intend to avoid that patch. This X is the herb garden.”
“Why the herb garden?” Malingasa asked.
Hanse had been going to tell them everything he had seen, and opined, and decided. Now he thought: To the sixth hell with ‘em. He merely said, “Who knows what interesting spices a master mage might have, hmm?”
Thuvarandis was leaning against the wall, long shins crossed. “You are indeed the cautious type, Professional.”
“I’m what you call me, Thuvarandis. Let me tell you a story. I’ll shorten it. Once a friend of mine was in the hands of a real monster. A swine who enjoyed tying down living people, then making cuts on them and paring off bits and pieces. You know, a thumb here, a slice there, a strip of skin here, a nose or a few toes there. I went in after my friend. Just when I decided that it was the easiest thing in the world and was slipping through some tendrilly shrubs to get up to a window, those shrubs came alive. The tendrilly branches wrapped around me like
so many snakes. Constrictors. Now, Shorty: does Corstic take an interest in his grounds? Do a little gardening?”
“Ye-esss,” Shorty said, in a low voice that didn’t quite quaver.
Hanse shrugged. “That’s not encouraging, is it. If I could fly, I would not set foot on those grounds. Now I have another question. I’ve been a loner for a lot of years, and never been caught. Our subject will be gone and all his doggies and servants will be asleep. The job is to get up to the second floor, get a little statue out, and get myself off the grounds. As I see it, Shorty and I can handle it all. So why will five others be on the grounds? To watch Shorty and me? Or as executioners, to discard the tool once it’s been used?”
Malingasa stood up so fast his chair banged over. Hand across his belly and on his swordhilt, he stared into nigh-black eyes. They stared right back.
“Sir…down…Malin.”
That, to Hanse’s surprise, came not from Thuvarandis but from Marll. Hanse half bent over the table, beside Shorty and on his left.
“Partner, would you move your hands, please?” he said politely.
When Shorty did, something blurred across his face. Four men stared at Hanse, who held the dull green mug that had been on Shorty’s right.
“Fire and ash!” Marll muttered.
Hanse said, “I’m just awful fast, Malingasa.”
Marll looked at the balding man. “Malin, I said sit down.”
That was a kindness. Malingasa resumed his seat. He looked neither happy nor pleasant.
Hanse straightened, looked into Shorty’s cup, and set it down before its owner. He took up his own and drank. “Damn. And I asked for good beer! Marll, the figurine?”
“It’s been made. It was being glazed again, or I’d have brought it tonight. Whenever and wherever you want it, Shadowspawn.”
“All wrapped up and then in a good bag to carry into Corstic’s, and out. Leave it at the fruit-seller’s stall, next to the S’danzo booth in the bazaar. Tell him it’s for Hansis. Han-sis. I have to tell you that I’m nervous. One of you dislikes me more than somewhat and I don’t really know any of you. Let’s have one rule from Shadowspawn: I don’t want to see any bows or crossbows tomorrow night. And now tell me when.”
“How about no swords either,” Malingasa said. “Or do you want us to come with our hands tied, maybe?”
Thuvarandis said, “Damn it, Malin…”
Hanse sighed. “Why are you doing this, Malingasa? We have to work together, and I don’t like this southerner-equals-enemy business a bit, or your challenges either. What am I to say? Swords don’t bother me, Malingasa. Knives don’t, either. I have no reason to start throwing knives, you can all see that. But I’d be terribly nervous with long-range weapons around.”
“There will be no crossbows or bows aside from Shorty’s bow,” Thuvarandis said. “Shorty: carry only two arrows, all right? I can understand Shadow’s nervousness. For that reason too, Malingasa will not be present.”
“What?”
Hanse said, “About the time…”
Malingasa said, “Now wait a minute!”
“Fourteenth hour,” Marll said. “Corstic will have been gone an hour, and not back for two more, at least.”
Hanse nodded. “I think we’ve said it all. We can go over the wall easily from horseback. I go alone. I won’t think about anyone but me and Shorty, and the job. What about when I come out, with the figurine? I gather I’m not to toss it down.”
“Definitely not,” Marll said.
“All right,” Hanse said. “I’ll give it to you once we’re outside the walls, because when my feet touch ground I’ll be movin’ fast. Oh, someone will have to be outside the wall, minding the horses, won’t he. If anything happens, the statue will be here. What’s the bartender’s name?”
They told him. Hanse looked around at them, noting Malingasa’s hot look of anger. “By ‘morrow night at about the fifteenth,” he said, “you should have what you want and I certainly hope I have something of value!”
He turned and left.
*
Mignureal looked up as Hanse entered the apartment, carrying a gut-wrapped parcel. She wore a questioning look and the beyond fetching bedtime “garment” he had bought her. Twice as sexy as any woman in any dive, she came to give him a kiss. He could not resist a bit of fondling.
“It’s still on,” he told her. And he added, “There is danger.”
“Oh! What did you tell me that for?” She stepped back. “Hoping you could See for me.”
She sighed. “Hanse, I’ve told you. I can’t just do it, not for you. Either it comes or it doesn’t. Sometimes I fail to See anything at all for paying clients, believe me.”
“So then the client becomes a suvesh and you make up this and that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tsk-tsk,” he said, reminding her that theft came in many forms. He hefted the parcel. “Guess what?”
“I just wouldn’t kno — no! Hanse! You’ve been up on the roof?”
“Right past the window.”
“Hanse! I never heard a thing!”
“He comes, he goes, and you never know he’s been until he’s gone and so’s your — nose!” he said, darting his hand at her face.
She jumped back, giggling and jiggling. “Oh Hanse!” Then, “I’m really glad you haven’t shown me your collection of noses, darling.”
“That was a great loss,” he said, slinging aside the cloak and laying out the parcel to open it. “See, Notable got at my collection. He ate all thirty-nine noses.”
“Ewww.”
“Mawrr-r,” Notable remarked sleepily at sound of his name.
“See? He just said ‘I sure did.’”
“Ewww!”
“What? I take off my tunic and you say ‘e-ewwww’? I thought you loved my mighty thews. Whatever that means.”
“You’re certainly in a good mood. Everything went your way? You said you were going to test them … oh my, I do like those legs.”
“You sit there flashing yours to the hip and comment about my legs?”
“Hmp! I thought you hadn’t even noticed. Anyhow, you’re flashing yours all the way up to the chin, darling. Oh faint — you’re dressing again?”
“Aye, and so are you,” he said, drawing on the tight black leggings. “Your cloak should do, though. It’s time you saw something.”
“Listen, Han — Shadowspawn, if you think I’m going up walls and over roofs with you, you can just forget it!”
He chuckled. “No no. I said I want you to see something, Mignue. Y’have to go outside, though. With me.”
“Ohh…here I go and get all bathed and almost-dressed in this bit of naughtiness you bought me, and you want me to cover up with a cloak and go outside. What for?”
He tugged down the black tunic. “To git raped in the alley,” he said, and lunged.
Her squeal becoming laughter, she raced into the other room. He stood grinning after her while he strapped on his knives. He loved the way she looked in that bit of net and a wisp of lace, all the colour of midnight; what there was of it.
She returned clasping her cloak. “Oh. I do love the way you look, Shadowspawn. You don’t intend to use all those knives, do you?”
He shook his head, flexing each sheath-equipped arm. “No. You’ve seen me throw.”
She nodded. “I remember your telling me out on the desert that no one could miss with those throwing stars, and then we spent the next hour looking for the one I threw!”
“Never admit it. Everyone believes no one can miss with one. And I’ve told just everyone in Firaqa that you carry several in your bosom. I’ve even put up signs.”
“Uh-huh. Print them yourself?”
“Oops. Well, so every now and then I lie a little. Come on, let’s go out. Gah! All right, Notable, you too. Did you see that? He sure knows the word ‘out’! Come on, Rainbow.”
Rainbow didn’t really care to be disturbed, and so Mignureal picked her up. Notable bolted throug
h the door the instant Hanse opened it and hit the steps at racehorse speed. He was waiting down by the outer door by the time they set foot on the steps.
A few minutes later, mouth open and Rainbow forgotten in her arms, Mignureal stood in the alley and watched Hanse go up the wall. She saw him reach the roof, looking like a living shadow in the moonlight. She gasped and whirled when he pounced, to shoot right over her head to the roof across the alley. Staring upward, she marvelled that she didn’t even hear any impact. He had certainly gone across fast enough, but seemed to alight as if he were afloat. She kept staring upward, seeing nothing.
“Hoy little girl,” a low voice said. Mignureal jumped. “Want to git raped in the alley?”
She stared, and out of the shadows he appeared, walking toward her.
“How did you — you just — oh!”
He had just pounced sideways into a deep shadow, and it swallowed him. Shadowspawn vanished. Gooseflesh ran up her arms and Rainbow stirred, feeling fright.
“Hanse? This is scary. Are — are you still there?”
“Aye.”
His voice seemed to come from right down on the ground, now. Was he squatting? Mignureal couldn’t see a thing. Just shadow. With a voice. She shivered. “I can’t even see you.” A step, and he was right there, visible. “That’s what I wanted you to see, Mignue. Or rather, not see. I wanted you to know. I swear it isn’t sorcery, but some people think so.”
“It’s as if you’re Shalpa incarnate!”
“Shh. His name isn’t to be spoken aloud — and besides, you don’t believe in gods, remember?”
She stuck her tongue out and made an obscene noise. “Would you take the cats back in, now? I’ll be right up.”
“Hanse — ”
“I mean it. I’ll be right there.”
She went, having to coax Notable. Thinking about her man’s incredible and worse than discomfiting ability to vanish, to become one with the shadows, she mounted the stairs like an old woman. When she entered the apartment he was there, pouring beer from a mug into Notable’s bowl.
“Whew,” Shadowspawn said. “I’ve been waiting for-ever. See someone you know and stop to talk?”
She sat down, and Rainbow jumped unnoticed from her cloaked arms. “You — the window?”
Shadowspawn (Thieves' World Book 4) Page 25
