by Gregory Ashe
Part of him, though, knew he could not give up. Not when I can find Viane. Bel bless me, the girl’s in danger. The thought was strange; the money was his main goal, wasn’t it? Joaquim pushed the question aside and trotted after Duruson, trying to ignore his sore feet.
“Listen,” Joaquim said as he caught up to the other man. He pitched his voice low. “I’m not trying to smuggle anything, or do anything illegal. I just need some help, Sisters witness.”
“What kind of help?” Duruson asked. “There’s not a whole lot a watchman can do for you, you know, unless it’s look the other way when a ship comes in, so I have a hard time thinking you want anything honest from me.”
“I’m looking for a girl,” Joaquim said. “She went missing a day or two ago, in the Gut, but not before she told me she’d gotten involved with some smugglers. Gemstones, she told me. Amber from Jaegal.” The half-truth came easily.
“Lots of details,” Duruson said drily. “Are you sure it was just your friend who was involved?”
“I need to find her,” Joaquim said, ignoring the question. “And I think I can find her, if I can just find the smugglers she was working for. She told me she just rowed out of the harbor to pick up the stones, to a ship waiting for her.”
“Rowed out of the harbor?” Duruson said. “It’s possible, but stupid. Any night with a moon and you’d be spotted right away, and even if you paid off one watchman, there are dozens down on the quays. Why not use one of the coves nearby? There’s hundreds of bloody beaches around here, and not enough watchmen to keep an eye on them all. It doesn’t make sense.” He sounded intrigued in spite of himself.
“Then it wasn’t you?” Joaquim asked. “That night, it wasn’t you that she paid off?”
“The Dark Sister take you,” Duruson said, “I told you already, I’m an honest man. Keep questioning me, and I might think I’ll have to beat it into you for you to believe me.”
Joaquim shrugged. “All right, all right. But then who was it?” The crowds thinned as they made their way further down the road, closer to the Gut, as more and more people disappeared into the ramshackle wooden buildings that sprawled between the streets.
“We could find out, given enough time,” Duruson said. “They keep records of who is on watch at each quay, more to match them up with the shipping logs than with anything else, since nobody is bloody fool enough to try to smuggle something with the whole bloody city watching. Still . . . you say your friend got the stones?”
Joaquim hesitated for a moment. Admitting Viane’s guilt, even when he had already told her story, made him uncomfortable; it was a betrayal and it left a sour taste in his mouth. “Yes,” he said, finally. “And made it back safe; I saw her that same night.”
“Somehow without meeting any of the watch, I’m guessing?”
Joaquim nodded. The whole story had begun to feel strange to him as well, and the memory of the night, through the thick fog of wine that covered it, sent anxiety racing through him. Bloody Bel take me, he thought. What was I thinking that night? Why in the world did I go with her? It made no sense; he had risked everything—his freedom, his father’s fortune, his life—to go with her, and he had known it at the time. And now I’m doing it all over again. A part of him wondered if this new anxiety was love. The thought brought a sickly grin to his face.
Duruson gave him a strange look, but said, “Well, she either had the Day Sister’s blessing, or she was working for a crew with enough sway to pull off a good section of the watch. Bel take me,” he said with a chuckle, “I almost wish I were crooked; I’d have made a fortune that night.”
Struggling to clear his own mind, Joaquim said, “You’re not being very helpful, friend. I need to find this girl, and the sooner the better.” So I can bloody well tell her father what she’s been doing and get her out of my life forever. Or marry her. He had not decided.
The watchmen stopped. They stood at the edge of the harbor, the stone quays piercing the dark waters like great fingers, the ships almost motionless on the smooth water. Joaquim did not realize they had walked so far. “There are three crews that operate down here, or three big enough to do what you’re talking about,” Duruson said. “And it’s been a rough spell lately. Lots of bodies turning up, in the water and in the streets, and even a few watchmen have had accidents.” He stressed the last word. “If your girl is working down here, then she’s with one of them, but it’s a bloody toss of the dice saying which one. Pontus’s crew has stayed low lately. I haven’t seen any of his boys around here for a while. It may be that they took such a beating, they’re pulling out of the city. Tides works the eastern quays, he has some of the warehouses over there, a few taverns, you could try there.”
“A smuggler owns warehouses?” Joaquim said. “Seems like it would be pretty easy to keep track of what he brings in.”
“Not directly,” Duruson said. “But merchants have them, and they’ll let him use their buildings if he brings in stuff for them. Same with the taverns—retired whores or old sell-swords own them, but you can smell Tides’s crap all over them.”
“And the third?” Joaquim asked. “We weren’t by the east harbor.”
“Well, then you’re out of luck, I’m afraid,” Duruson said. “I don’t know hardly anything about this last one. Jaecan, they say, and mean. He’s the one that took out Seaweed, slit her throat, and dumped her in the harbor naked. The rest of Seaweed’s crew signed up real fast, or they showed up in the harbor as well. Sipir is the name I’ve heard, but that’s all I know, and I could be wrong. You’re going to be bloody lucky if you can find out anything else—without winding up dead yourself, that is.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Joaquim said. “You’re the Day Sister’s own ray of hope.”
“Now, we’re done, and I don’t want to see you again,” Duruson said. He ran two fingers over his long, waxed mustaches and added, “Not that I mean you any ill will. You’re trying to do what’s right, even if you’re a bloody fool, and no doubt I’ll tell you the same when I fish you out of the harbor in a day or two. Still, for what it’s worth, the Day Sister shine on you.”
“And you,” Joaquim said. Duruson walked off down the stone front of the harbor without looking back, and Joaquim slumped against the wall of a nearby factor’s office. Hopeless, he thought. This is bloody hopeless. Going home seemed more and more promising. Viane, what did you get yourself into?
“Joaquim?” a surprised voice said. “Joaquim, is that you?”
Glancing up, Joaquim saw Etio standing at the edge of the nearest quay, shirtless and with a cloth bag over one shoulder. “What in the world are you doing down here, Etio?” Joaquim asked.
Etio came over to join him, his tan face breaking into a grin. “By the Day Sister, you look like a wreck, Joaquim. What did you do, roll all the way down here in the sewers?”
Joaquim shrugged. “I bloody don’t know what I’ve been doing today,” he answered. The words certainly felt true enough. “I’ve wasted most of my time trying to track down Viane, but haven’t found her anywhere.”
“Looking like that,” Etio said, “I’m not surprised. Have you done all your searching in the Gut? I’m sure you searched the whores very carefully, Joaquim, but you might be looking in the wrong places.”
The humor fell flat to Joaquim. He frowned up at Etio, irritated with the other man’s joviality, with the flushed health in his face. What right does Etio have to be happy? Joaquim thought angrily. The man could barely afford to pay the fees at the Dueling Hall. His father owned a few ships, sure, but nothing compared to Zirolo’s family, let alone Joaquim’s, before their loss. But he still swaggers around like he’s just as good as us, speaks to me like we’re equals.
“What, nothing to say back to me?” Etio laughed. “Come on, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Joaquim said. “Just leave me alone.” He stood, wincing at the ache in his legs and feet.
Etio’s tan, handsome face grew serious. “All right,�
� he said. “I was heading back up the hill anyway. Want to go get something to drink? Let me buy you a glass of wine, you look like you could use it.”
“Did you not bloody hear me?” Joaquim asked. “I’m trying to find Viane; I can’t go have a bloody glass of wine.” His answer surprised even him. Since when would I rather tromp around in the Gut looking for the Night Sister’s own spawn, when I could be resting at Tulia’s or Katrin’s, enjoying myself? Joaquim realized he had no answer for this realization, no reason to offer himself. His mouth tasted sour.
“Let’s go find her then,” Etio said. “And quit frowning at me like that, I’m bloody sorry if I made you mad, but the Sisters bless me if you aren’t prickly today. The way you talk at the hall, I’d think you could take a joke.”
The hall, Joaquim thought. His hand trembled; he could feel, in his hand, the exact moment when the tip of his rapier had broken through the sailor’s flesh, the tension in the skin giving way abruptly. The bloody hall is nothing. The thought sent a chilling ripple through Joaquim. I killed a man. I can do it again. The realization felt cold and hard as steel.
“Let’s go then,” Joaquim said, his shoulders relaxing, the ache in his feet gone. “We’re looking for someone named Sipir, a man, I think.”
“Sipir?” Etio asked. “What is he, one of Viane’s suitors?”
Joaquim shrugged. “Not sure. Time to find out, though.”
He led Etio west. East was not an option; they had not been near the east docks that night, and if the poorly-named smuggler Tides did in fact control that section of the harbor, then Viane would not be there. Duruson had not specified where Sipir or Pontus worked, though, so west seemed like the best option. As they went, Joaquim stopped to ask for directions from beggars. Their blank stares kept him moving west. You’d think a bloody smuggler as dangerous as Sipir would have some kind of reputation, he thought.
They had not traveled more than twenty blocks when Etio said, “Look, Joaquim, this is pointless; no one even knows who this guy is, let alone where he is. Why don’t we just pick this up tomorrow?”
“Viane could be dead tomorrow,” Joaquim said. “She never came home last night; I don’t bloody know if she’s even still alive.” Day Sister will that she is, though. “If you want to go, then go. I’m going to keep looking.”
Etio opened the cloth bag, pulled out a white shirt, and put it on. Draping the bag over one shoulder, he said, “Let’s keep going, then. We might as well do this right.”
It was a beggar boy who pointed them in the right direction. He flinched when Etio named Sipir, his head darting to look over his shoulder, and then he peered around Etio and Joaquim down the street. “He doesn’t want to meet with you,” the boy said. “Or you’d be meeting him.” He took in the cut of their clothes, Joaquim’s weapons, and added, “You’re in the wrong part of town, too. Once the sun goes down, that” he nodded at the rapier, “won’t be worth much.”
“I’ll be fine,” Joaquim said. That frozen core inside of him gave him confidence. “How much will it take for you to show us where he is?”
The boy shuffled his feet, still glancing up and down the street nervously. “A silver quint,” he blurted, his eyes wide.
Etio laughed. He laughed louder when he saw Joaquim untie his purse and count out the coins. “You’re bloody asking for it,” Etio said. “You might as well just hand him the whole purse right now.”
“Go two blocks,” the boy said, pointing down the street. “Take the street next to the herb-hand’s shop, he’s down there.”
“Down where?” Joaquim asked, but the boy sprinted off without an answer, darting into the nearest alley and disappearing from sight.
“Either you just got taken, or that boy is frightened out of his wits,” Etio said. “You sure you don’t know anything about this Sipir? You don’t seem that surprised.”
“I’m sure,” Joaquim lied. “Probably just didn’t want us to take the quint back.”
“I’d have taken it myself,” Etio said. “If you’re willing to drop coin like that, Joaquim, I’ll be sure to let you buy the next round of drinks at Tulia’s.”
“Because you’re bloody poor,” Joaquim said. He started down the street, looking for the herb-hand’s shop.
Etio followed, his voice tight as he said, “If I’d known we were going to be down here this late, I would have made you wait for me to get my rapier and dagger.” The anger in Etio’s voice made Joaquim regret his words. He ignored the feeling and concentrated on the core of cold certainty in his chest.
“Why were you down here without them anyway?”
“Sailing,” Etio answered. “Yes, I know, what you’ll say. You’re going to pretend to be shocked, then make a snide remark about how it’s really nice that I get such a close understanding of the family business. I’ll save you the effort.”
Joaquim gave him a single glance and then looked back at the buildings. He had no response; Etio’s prediction had been completely right, but there was no point in telling him that. He’ll just puff up so big his head will explode, Joaquim thought in irritation.
“Here’s the herb-hand,” Joaquim said when the building came into sight, a bunch of dried flowers sticking out of a metal bracket on the wall. The street next to the building barely deserved the name; it was so narrow that Joaquim doubted a handcart could pass through it. The tall buildings blocked the last light of the sun. “Come on.”
They were halfway down the street when two men, no more than outlines, turned down the street toward them. “I don’t like this,” Etio said.
Joaquim agreed. He drew his dagger and passed it to Etio. The other man gripped the handle tightly. The sound of boots on stone made Joaquim turn. Three men, almost lost in the shadows, came behind them. Joaquim’s heart beat faster, and to his surprised he realized that his fear was mingled with excitement, pushing steadily against the cool assurance that still wrapped around his heart.
“That little brat sold us out,” Etio said. “That, or someone saw you flinging coin around like a bleeding noble.”
“Put your back to the wall,” Joaquim said, following his own advice. Flies buzzed as he knocked aside the thick, rotting garbage along the side of the street. Etio stood next to him. Someone chuckled, a low, nervous laugh that cut off abruptly. The men continued down the alley, taking their time as they slowly fenced Joaquim and Etio in.
“Nice evening, milords,” a raspy voice called.
“So nice of you to come down here,” another one said, his words followed by the same laugh.
“We’re looking for Sipir,” Joaquim said. “We don’t want any trouble.” The words were a lie, though. Joaquim wanted them to rush forward, wanted to feel steel meet flesh again, to feel that surge of adrenaline. A bunch of street toughs, he thought. I could kill them all, even without Etio.
“We know who you’re looking for,” a third voice said, the words tainted with the harsh Jaecan accent. “Sipir does not want to see you.”
“The Night Sister take Sipir,” Etio swore. “And all of you, you bloody fools. We’re just looking for a girl. If you want coin, well, take our bloody coin and get going.”
“Shut up, Etio,” Joaquim said. Coward. Joaquim had no intention of giving these thugs his money.
“You boys like to come down here, huh,” the raspy voice said. “Have some fun with our girls, then scurry back up the hill, tails between your legs. It’s not right.”
The low, frenzied laugh echoed against the stone walls. Flies filled the air at the noise, clogging Joaquim’s nose, buzzing at his eyes. He waved his free hand, watching for the first movement. The pounding of his blood made thought of Viane fade.
“Not a whore,” Etio said. “We’re looking for a friend. Her name is Viane.”
The laugh cut off. What does that bloody mean? Joaquim wondered.
“Well, now, that’s interesting,” the Jaecan said. “Take them.”
Four figures rushed forward. Joaquim thrust with his rapier, fee
ling his blade meet flesh, and then something struck his head, and he was falling. Distantly he heard Etio shouting, and everything went dark.
