“Don’t. I made a bargain. I’ll keep my word. They’re free to go with whatever they stole from your father’s palace.”
Glint sighs and looks up at the torchlit haze that now hangs over the city. “I won’t try to convince you.”
“Good.”
They keep walking. Around them, Rat Town is strangely silent. Reeling from the upheaval. Myrrh turns down an alley leading to Rikson’s Roost.
“Even without the Slivers bigwigs, I’m still not sure we can hold both districts,” Glint says after a while.
“No. The situation with Porcelain Hand is shaky enough.”
“How did you convince them to support this operation?”
“Same way a savvy person convinces a thief of anything. I appealed to their greed. An even split of the proceeds from gutting the Slivers coffers.”
“So even if Slivers tries to reorganize, they won’t have the resources to fund the recovery.”
“Exactly.”
“That leaves something of a…void in the criminal fabric of the city.”
“Maybe not,” she says, looking aside so he can’t read her expression.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. Anyway, the changes in Rat Town won’t be any more dramatic than what Maire’s Quarter will wake up to,” she says.
Glint snorts. “Good point.”
“Is Merchant Emmerst really the threat you claimed? Will he gain control of the council and the Maire’s title?”
Glint chews his lip, thinking. “Hmm. Yes to the first question. Regardless of the lies I told you, I also did my best to lace them with as much truth as I could. Emmerst can’t be allowed to take control, or every honest thief in the city will find themselves out of work. That wouldn’t be so bad if lawful jobs were added to replace the lost opportunities.” He shakes his head. “As if that would happen here.”
He stops walking and nudges a stone embedded in the muddy street, prying at it with his toe until he can kick it free.
“You didn’t answer my second question.”
“Because I don’t want to make a commitment I can’t keep. I will do everything I can to stop Emmerst’s play for power. But it won’t be easy. Someone else will need to attract council support and the title nomination.”
She turns to face him. “Merchant Giller, you mean?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I can find another merchant to rally the council around. Either way, it’s going to be a challenge.” Glint glances up and casts her a bittersweet smile. “I don’t imagine Rella wants to help?”
Myrrh swallows the traitorous heat that rises toward her cheeks. “I won’t be able to join you.”
The faint flare of hope in his eyes fades. “I understand.”
“For starters, I set out for Craghold tomorrow. I was wondering…I’m sure I can break in and free the prisoners, but a little help wouldn’t hurt my chances.”
He nods, back to business. “I’ll send the Scythe with you. Her word alone will open the prison gates. You’ll be back within a fortnight.”
Myrrh continues forward, and he hurries to catch up.
“As for afterward,” he says, “my leaders followed you tonight…I think we could make an announcement of your formal promotion. Just like we planned.”
She doesn’t respond. Not until they reach the stoop of Rikson’s Roost. She stops in the square of light near the open door and takes a deep breath. She knew he’d ask her about stepping up as a leader in his organization if the plot tonight succeeded. And she’s already decided her answer. She just didn’t expect to find it so hard to cough out the words.
“Come inside,” she says. “I think we’ve earned a drink. We can talk about the future later.”
***
A cheer goes up when she steps into the room. Myrrh scans the gathered faces and smiles.
Against the wall, around two dozen Slivers members have been bound and gagged. She’ll have to release them eventually, but not until she talks to them about their future prospects in Rat Town. A few might be redeemable. Allowed to stay on as grubbers or low-level lackeys. The rest can find their way to another district. Or better, another city.
Standing guard over the captives, Warrell gives her a solemn nod. She returns the gesture and threads her way through tables to take a seat at the bar.
Nab, head pillowed on his arms, is snoring lightly. Beside him, Tep nurses a watered-down ale. He’s practicing a flinty stare in the mirror and jumps when he realizes she’s caught him at it.
“Stick to cooking,” she says. “Bernard will work himself to death if you aren’t there to help.”
The boy glares. Myrrh looks away before she succumbs to the urge to tease him more. As she climbs onto the stool beside Nab, the boy jerks awake, mumbling something unintelligible. He quickly shakes his head to clear it and swipes a hand toward his mug.
“Have a nice nap?” she asks.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he says, tongue still slow.
“Right.”
The boy blinks again, clearing the last of the fog. His eyes narrow when he spots Glint.
When Myrrh visited during the days she was putting the operation together, she explained the truth about Glint’s past. Given how Nab idolized him, she expected him to forgive the man. But Nab, apparently, has other ideas.
“Have you kept up with your reading over the past days?” Glint asks, ignoring the boy’s expression.
“How dare you lie to her?” Nab spits. “Myrrh deserves better. Even the lowliest grubber in the Spills is better than some rich heir pretending to be a thief just to charm her off her feet.”
“It’s okay, Nab,” she says gently. “Glint is well aware how much he screwed up by lying to me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure you know what’s good for you anymore. You’re still hanging out with him, aren’t you?”
“But not in that way,” Glint says. He looks down at the bar top. “There never was a that way to be honest.”
Nab angrily sucks down a deep swallow of ale. Myrrh shakes her head. She’s going to have to talk with Rikson about serving alcohol to the kid.
“And now you’re just going to move back into his mansion,” Nab says. “Pretend everything’s fine?”
“No, Nab. I’m not. Tomorrow, I’m going to go get Hawk. And after that…” She glances back toward Warrell and the captives. “We have work to do around Rat Town, right?”
He turns wide eyes her way. “We’re staying?”
“For now.”
Beside her, Myrrh feels Glint sinking over the bar top. He raises a hand in a lackluster gesture to order an ale from the woman working the taps. Myrrh sighs. Maybe she should have found the courage to tell him her plans before they entered the room.
“Back to the squat?” Only a hint of dismay enters Nab’s voice.
“Actually, I believe there are a number of Slivers safe houses that are now empty of occupants. Maybe we could appropriate one of those.”
Nab tries to keep his cool, but he can’t help tapping his dangling feet against the barstool in excitement. “I get to pick my room?”
“And the room where your tutor will meet you for reading lessons.”
Glint gives an amused huff as Nab sputters. Myrrh resists the urge to lay a hand on the man’s knee. This parting of ways is much harder than she expected.
“If I don’t have to pretend to be his little brother anymore, why do I gotta learn that sixing stuff?”
“Hey!” Myrrh snaps. “Language…”
Nab rolls his eyes.
“Anyway, you have to be able to read because that is a requirement of all members of the Ghost syndicate.”
“Wait, what?” Glint says.
Myrrh spins on her stool and motions for Warrell. “You mentioned a void in the criminal fabric. I agree that’s a problem. It could lead to a turf war during an otherwise golden opportunity for thievery in Ostgard. While the merchants scramble for
influence and plot against each other to decide the next Maire, they’ll have a harder time defending against pilferers and knaves.”
He shakes his head as if desperately confused. “You’re founding a new syndicate?”
Myrrh swallows, forcing away the impulse to soften the news. She knows he wants more from her, both personally and professionally.
“Yes, Mistress?” Warrell asks as he steps up to join the conversation.
“Any word from the strike teams? Problems?”
“Smooth as silk. They’re moving in to take possession of the hideouts as Glint’s people retreat with their spoils.”
“But where are you getting the resources?” Glint asks. “You didn’t flip the loyalty of the Slivers organization that easily, did you?”
“Some of them will flip, I imagine. But that’s the thing about Rat Town. Freelancers work solo or in pairs, so you never really get a gist of how many of us there are, but we have at least as many grubbers as syndicate members running jobs down here. We’re an independent sort.”
“Independent, but not stupid,” Warrell says. “Mistress Myrrh promised changes for Rat Town. Big ones.”
Glint blinks. “So you organized those who refuse to be led and somehow made them swear fealty anyway.”
“For now, the questions of leadership will be rather more fluid than that. We’ll have a council of thieves. A process for organizing our operations that involves everyone. Even if we weren’t a syndicate of freelancers, I don’t have a choice on that. I’ll be gone for the first fortnight of our reign over Rat Town. And I won’t make the same mistake as you and every kingpin in the city.”
“Leaving an organization helpless when the leader isn’t around to issue orders,” Glint says.
“Exactly.”
Myrrh leans back and props her elbows on the bar. She surveys the room, the new members of Ghost sketching plans on the tabletops by dragging fingers through trails of moisture from their ales. A young woman taps out a tune on the piano, humming along. As far as the founding moments of an empire go, it’s been a good night.
“Well,” Glint says, “given what your man here reports, my people are already on their way back to Lower Fringe. I suppose I should get back to start putting things back together. See what I can do about bringing Porcelain Hand into the organization.”
“Your gang really needs a name,” Myrrh comments.
“Perhaps. Walk with me?”
He hops off the stool, turns, and holds out his hand. She can’t help noticing that his arm trembles with hidden emotion. After a moment’s hesitation, Myrrh accepts the help down from her stool. They slip out the door and into the predawn light.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“HOW LONG BEFORE the city’s merchants realize your father is gone?” Myrrh asks.
At their slow pace, it’s taken a couple of hours to walk from Rat Town over First Bridge and along the river to where they now stroll beside the waterfront. Neither of them has seemed eager to reach the end of their time together, and the day is now brightening to full morning. So far, the city seems oblivious to the events of the previous night. They’re passing through the Crafter’s District now, and shop fronts are opening as if nothing has changed. Jewelers, those who work with polished glass and pretty shells rather than the precious gems favored by the merchant class, have set up stalls along the waterfront. One calls out to her, commenting that a smoked-quartz pendant would match her dress.
Glint laughs. “Guess she didn’t see the bangle you’re already wearing. Worth more than her entire inventory.”
“I almost fenced it to help secure enough cargo to make the downriver voyage worthwhile for my new bargemen.”
“I meant to ask, where did you get the financing?”
“I sold off the rest of the spice.”
“My spice,” he says, glancing at her sideways.
“Which I stole for you.”
“And for that matter, I don’t recall giving you possession of the barge.”
“But since you didn’t explicitly say I had to steal the whole vessel, just the cargo aboard it, I’d say ownership of the barge was ambiguous at best.”
Abruptly, he grabs her forearm and turns her toward him. Myrrh gasps a little in surprise. Her nerves are still a little frayed, and now she’s been more than a day without sleep on top of that.
“Will you reconsider?” he asks, eyes pleading. “Think of the organization we could build. We could even split things up so you run a Rat Town division.”
“The new members of Ghost syndicate wouldn’t accept it. Not a chance. As it is, I have a major challenge ahead in convincing them that we’ll accomplish more when we organize than we did scraping by as solo grubbers.”
“You’ll really give up what we were accomplishing together in Lower Fringe? Go back to the mud and the tavern brawls and the smell of the water around First Bridge?”
“I suppose I will,” she says.
He cups her elbows, then runs the backs of his fingers up her arms. Myrrh shivers.
“The others will be disappointed to hear you’re leaving us. They’ll blame me for failing to charm you into staying.”
His eyes search hers as if desperate for just a hint of weakness. A thinning of her resolve.
“For now, the Rat Town grubbers need me. They deserve the Ghost syndicate.” It’s the best she can give him. The hint that her choice might not be forever.
“Will you sit with me a little longer? I’m not quite ready to face…everything that needs to be done, I guess.” Glint gestures to the low wall that borders the river. Children of the tradespeople in the district gather in small huddles along its length, throwing bits of stale bread to the ducks paddling in the Ost. Myrrh’s eyes linger on the closest group as she follows Glint to an empty section of wall. What would her childhood have been like if she’d been able to play instead of picking pockets? How would it feel to remember a mother and father? To have enough food that she could throw some of it to the ducks for fun? She can’t even imagine.
Myrrh and Glint sit with their backs to the river, faces to the morning sun.
She closes her eyes and enjoys the warmth. Somewhere in the city, Noble and his henchmen will be having a different experience. The sunrise probably caught them somewhere between the thieves’ path under Fourth Bridge and their entrance into Rat Town. Did they shriek when the disk of fire crested the eastern mountains? Did their sudden panic summon the Shield Watch onto them? Or did the pain arrive slowly as dawn washed over the city, leaving them time to find a dark hole to hide out until night?
She should have listened to Glint. Let him set the ambush. They will come for her eventually, though their glimmer-blindness will make things more difficult. Except she’d always know she broke her word. She doesn’t have much in the world, not now. But at least she still has her integrity.
“I have a question,” she says as a cart rattles by, the driver slapping the leads against the horse’s back as if to impress any would-be passengers.
“What’s that?”
“Lavi.”
“What about her?”
“The eye patch.”
Glint drops his head back and laughs, hands planted on the wall beneath them. “Why does she wear it when there’s nothing wrong with her vision, you mean?”
“With the inlaid gems, I wondered if it was some kind of fashion statement.”
“Lavi? Fashion? I believe I let you know what I thought of that nightgown she got you. Though I admit the glimpses I’ve had of the less…frumpy underthings have forced me to think there’s hope for her.”
“Not to mention, she picked out this dress with the stupid buttons in the back.”
“I do like how it looks on you.” He plucks at the layer of fabric over her thigh.
“You just liked having the chance to button me up.”
“Actually, I much preferred the unbuttoning…”
Once again, she fee
ls the blush in her cheeks. “So back to the eye patch?”
“Right. Well, she has quite a collection, actually. That was the first time I saw the one with the gems.”
“But why?”
“Lavi has…interesting ideas. I can’t discount them because she’s one of the best skirmishers in the city. She wears the patches one day a week per eye. Apparently, its practice in case she ever loses an eye in a fight.”
“I see.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I can’t discount her techniques. I guess we won’t really know how effective they are unless she actually gets an eye poked out.”
Myrrh grimaces. “I sixing hope not. Yuck.”
Glint laughs. “Hey, Myrrh?”
She glances over at him. “Yeah?”
Before she can react, his hands are in her hair. His lips press hard against hers. A low sound rises in his throat as the kiss gentles and he parts her lips with his tongue.
Myrrh is paralyzed, her heart thrashing her ribs, her lower belly on fire.
The world fades to nothing but Glint, his lips and hands and his breath on her face.
And then it’s over.
He backs away as quickly as he attacked, his fingers untangling from her hair. She opens her eyes. He’s staring at her.
Myrrh starts breathing again as her fingertips tingle from lack of air.
“I…that was…unexpected,” she says softly.
“Was it? You haven’t noticed my interest?”
“Maybe sudden would have been a better word.”
“I’m used to taking what I want—a thief’s prerogative, you know? But it doesn’t work that way with you. So I stole what I could before walking away.”
“What if I’d have given it freely?”
“You already refused when you made it clear you won’t join me in Lower Fringe.”
“So you’re only interested if I serve beneath you? You don’t want someone independent enough to stand on her own?”
Glint’s mouth twists in a wry smile. “It’s not that at all. But you see, the moment we part ways this morning, you to your syndicate me to my—”
“Your affiliation of villains and burglars?”
Mistress of Thieves (Chronicles of a Cutpurse Book 1) Page 19
