Authors: Tamora Pierce
The streets were near empty. Nestor saw me looking about. "The fishing folk must be up two hours before dawn," he murmured to me. "If you don't handle the nets or the rigging, your work doubtless depends on those who do. Even rascals like your special friend keep fisherman's hours."
"Let's see if he's my special friend after the law books on this are closed," I said.
Nestor snorted. "Him a colemonger? No, not him. He's too fond of his life and his fingers to wager on so foolish a bet."
So I wasn't alone in thinking Dale innocent. That was a comfort. "He's friends with two others I know for a fact are in it," I told Nestor, feeling contrary. I realized I was touching the opal pendant Dale had given me, hidden under my robe, and took my hand off of it.
"Pecking at a lover because of his friends is a fast way to an empty bed," Nestor told me. He strode ahead to meet four more people clothed in burnooses. Every one of the folk he'd summoned wore not only robes and veils, but gloves. By daylight, or even earlier in the evening, we would have been a strange-looking crew. At this hour, no one was out to mark us. One of the newcomers carried a torch, which gave us two to light our steps.
We gathered more Dogs in disguise. There were fifteen of us when we came to a side street beside the Eagle Street court. There another false Bazhir waited beside a cart. A mule stood between its shafts, giving us a sharp looking-over. I was glad I'd left Achoo behind. She hates mules.
Nestor spoke to the carter quietly. Then he turned to the rest of us. He made certain that his hands were visible in the torchlight as he signaled. Two of us went to the cart and threw back a canvas sheet in its bed. There lay pry bars, heavy mauls and chisels, and a number of sturdy baskets. I grabbed one of those.
Nestor took my basket away. "You're guide," he whispered in my ear. "Get to it." He pointed to the shadowy door that was one of the Eagle Street court's side entrances.
I brought to my mind's eye the court's map until I knew where this door was. One of Nestor's friends was already there, dripping some manner of liquid into the lock.
"It's bespelled on it," he told me. "To bar folk from breaking in. It would never stop anyone from coming out, as our leader says you did." He murmured something. The magic smoked dreadfully. When the smoke blew away, the mage Dog motioned for me to employ my picks.
"Now
it's safe to unlock."
Within a moment I had the lock open. The mage went first, then beckoned me inside. He lit the hall lamps with snaps of his fingers as the others doused their torches and entered.
Happily, we were on the same hall as the clothes room. My friends were gone. It seemed they had escaped with their new clothes. I asked the gods to bless them, then went on to open the secret door to the hidden rooms upstairs.
"We'd never have found that," Nestor murmured in my ear.
Up the stairs we went. I'd thought they'd ask the mage Dog to open the lock I'd jammed with my clay. Instead a big cove came forward with a three-foot-long ram. He swung it by its iron grip, smashing it into the door. Three smashes later, we were inside.
At first all Nestor and his Dogs managed to do was wander about, staring at this complete colesmithy. I heard murmurs like, "The sack o' them!" and, "Right under our noses!" Some of them felt as I did, saying, "Are they
mad
?"
Nestor was the first to come around. "Get to it!" he ordered. "We haven't got forever!"
Nestor's Dogs got to work indeed. When they finished, the only thing that could yet be used for colemongery was the forge, set into the chimney as it was. Everything movable was piled in the cart outside, hidden under the canvas sheet. We waited until we were a good four blocks away before we halted for a quiet celebration, only slapping one another on the back or shoulder. We all knew that Pearl had never been the victim of so thorough and deep-cutting a raid.
The driver of the cart, Nestor, and two other Dogs took our loot off to a safe hiding place. The rest of us were left to go home with a last wrist or hand clasp. It's wondrous, to know you've aided in making Dog history.
As I let myself into the Waterlily with the key Okha had lent me, I wondered about Pearl's reaction. No doubt she would explode when she found her colesmithy had been stripped. She would be terrified that her goods might have gotten into Sir Lionel's hands, giving him a proper weapon against her. Ives would tell her soon enough that Sir Lionel had no knowledge of the burglary, but that surely would make Pearl's fears all the worse.
I needed to calm down before I slept, so I took Achoo out onto the roof. Okha had said that we could do that even during the day, the buildings around us being all warehouses without windows. Once I was calmer and Achoo had finished her business, we went back inside. I made us a bed of drapes and pillows, where she settled. Alas, my thoughts are still awake and lively. Might Pearl suspect that the Lord Provost himself would be informed of her colemongering? She'll be remembering I told Sir Lionel she was the colemonger. She'll be wanting me more than ever. Will she turn on her enemies when she cannot find her coles and her coin stamps? Or on folk she suspects of trying to seize her throne? If she does, she will drive off those she needs to defend her. It would be her gift to us if she did.
At last I am sleepy and my journal is caught up. I hope the rest of today is less mad than its start!
Guards House
Some time past the midnight hour.
being a chronicle of the events of Thursday the 20th
,
beginning around the hour of ten in the morning of that day
When I rose from a lovely dream of Dale, it was just before ten of the clock. The hour struck as I cleaned up as best as I could and dressed in a lad's tunic and leggings that I found in the outer room's closet. My poor uniform was wrinkled and covered with all manner of smutches from my clamberings in Pearl's courts and the city sewers. I shook it out and draped it on a chair I took outside so my things might air.
Then I gathered crumbs from the food Okha had brought me the night before and went out onto the flat roof with Achoo. It is true, there are only blank walls to the east and west, but there is a splendid view of the harbor from the south side. I sat where I might admire it and began to scatter crumbs in the hopes that I might call pigeons to me.
A weight struck the back of my head and almost knocked me forward. I jumped to my feet, about to curse Slapper, when a familiar voice met my ears.
"Curse her for a lyin', two-faced scut with the heart of a weasel!"
Slapper had a passenger. The pigeon landed on the roof with a stagger and pecked furiously at the crumbs. He lurched. His clubfoot made it hard for him to stand.
The ghost that rode him talked on. "Didn't I know she'd turn with no warnin'? Didn't I? But clever lad that I am, I thought I could cozen her, buy her filthy presents, whatever it took to keep that pearl-toothed viper
happy
!"
I knew that voice.
"Hanse," I said, keeping my voice steady, because the ghosts panic or not depending on how I sound. "Hanse, you're dead."
"Ye think I don't
know
that?" Hanse snarled as Slapper grabbed for a nice bit of pasty crust. I scooped Slapper up, trying not to get pecked, and steadied him in my lap. Then I took a handful of crumbs and bits and held them for him. I yanked my head away as he tried to hit me with one wing. Then he settled to eat.
"I
know
I'm dead. Who's this, anyway?"
"It's Cooper," I told him. "Goodwin's partner."
"What're you doin' talkin' to a dead cove, eh? Why am I stuck to this gleekin' bird? Where is Goodwin?" Hanse was as restless as Slapper is normally.
"She's not here. Even if she was, she couldn't hear you," I said. "I'm the only one who can. The bird is Slapper. He'll carry you to the Peaceful Realms,
if
you settle your business that's left over from your life. As I understand it, anyway."
"So who gave you this stinkin' job?" Hanse asked. I had a picture of him in my mind, sitting on a bench, his elbows on his knees, a wicked glint in his eye. Curse it, I'd gone and gotten attached to a Rat. Now he was dead.
"I was born to it. My father had it afore me, my gran tells me. Hanse, listen, how'd you die?" I asked. "The last I heard, you were only arrested for smuggling."
"'Only,' the wench says!" Slapper flailed in my lap. I let him go. He lit on the roof before me and strutted to and fro as Hanse talked. "The cage Dogs had me in a cell in the Rattery, getting me ready for questionin'. Then Zolaika came with one of her helpers. They weren't there to say, 'Goddess bless.' The helper put a silencin' spell on me before I could get a yell out, and Zolaika cut my throat."
I gulped. He was part of it all, the colemongering, but I had liked him. I remember him carrying Tunstall to safety in the Bread Riot. He'd roared with laughter at Goodwin's jokes and paid for more than his share of our suppers.
"What of the others that got hobbled when you did?" I asked. "No, you wouldn't be knowing, I suppose."
"But I do," said the man I could not see. "They killed us all. Zolaika said I was the last. Pearl wanted every one of us dead."
"Hanse, mayhap you can tell me." I had to ask as many questions as I could. I didn't know how long I'd be able to talk with him before we were interrupted and Slapper took off. "Have you any idea why Pearl is doing the colemongering? What she hopes to gain from drowning the city in coles?"
"Oh, that was my idea. Pearl's got her gain already. She told me all she wanted was to be richer than the King, richer than the Emperor down in Carthak. Now she's just adding cream to the pot," Hanse told me as Slapper ate. "The first two batches of coles we done, Pearl and any she trusted went to the Silver- and Goldsmith's banks here and in Corus and in Blue Harbor, and traded it all for gold. Nobody was lookin' for sacks full of coles, so – greedy pig that she was – she got all of it changed. She gave the ones that changed it a fee, them that she didn't have killed after. And her and her special pets went gamblin'. Mostly they won big, those first two weeks. They all warned her, if she kept dumpin' coles on the market, folk'd wake up. Prices would go up. But I knew her since we was little. I knew once she had the smell of money in her snout, she'd tear up the city rootin' for more, even if she was full." He sounded
pleased
.
More pigeons came. They'd finally seen the scatter of crumbs.
"Still moanin'?" I heard Steen ask. "Still grumblin'?"
"Why are you still here?" Hanse wanted to know. "You could've answered the Black God's call, same as the others."
"I'm
tryin'
to get you to come wiv me," Steen told him. "We don't belong here no more, ye great ox."
"Go, then," Hanse said. "I've business to finish."
"Ye're dead!" Steen cried. "Ye've got no body, no hands, no feet! What do ye think to finish?"
I cleared my throat. "Mayhap I can be of use, being's how I'm still alive and all." Hanse had given me plenty to think about, and yet another question I wanted answered.
For a moment they were quiet. Then Steen said, "Cooper? She can't see us. Or – "
"I hear you just fine," I said.
"Huh!" Steen replied. "How did that happen?"
"Who cares?" roared Hanse. "She can help!"
"Help against Pearl," Steen said with a laugh. "Pull t' other leg, it's got bells on't. How about Pearl pulls Cooper's tongue out an' wraps it about her neck?"
"I've got friends coming," I told them. "Men Goodwin aren't here for the reasons we told you."
"Thought not," Hanse said with grim pleasure. Slapper dropped to the rooftop to feed with the flock.
I dropped a heap of crumbs before me so he wouldn't go far. He returned to me. "I need to know some things before I do aught for anyone. Hanse, think about all the coles out there now. You brought her the knowledge of the new mine with silver the Crown doesn't know about, didn't you?"
"'Twasn't a
new
mine," he replied. "My brother found a fresh vein in an old, abandoned one. He thought mayhap I'd find a way to turn it to account."
"And you went to Pearl," I said. "She took over."
"No," Hanse said. "Partners. You think I'd trust her with the mine's location?"
I found it hard to believe that Pearl would accept anyone as an equal partner, but I left that be. "So you bring her fresh supplies of silver. Are the two of you mad? If she had the silver you were bringing in made up into coles, there's hundreds more, am I right?"
"Does Goodwin know what you know?" Hanse asked.
"What does it matter to you? You're dead," I reminded him.
"She has you on that," Steen said.
"Aye, Pearl was ready to make plenty more with the silver we brung," Hanse said. "I told her to do it."
"But you were making silver nobles well-nigh worthless," I reminded him. "Didn't she understand that? Prices are going up! When did you plan to stop?"
"Never," Hanse told me. The word floated cold against the beautiful sky, as if I could almost see it, a patch of gray blight. The day was too lovely to hear a dead man talk of ruin for the land. "See, Pearl didn't care about aught else. She's got a fortune in gold, that's all that matters to her. Now she's got her smiths makin' up Yamani and Copper Isle coin stamps. When the panic begins and the banks stop takin' silver entirely, she'll be long gone."
"Cold," Steen muttered. "She's a cold, rabid Rat, that one."
"But you can't be that stupid and be the Rogue, can you?" I asked.
"What's stupid?" Hanse asked. "She made her fortune before anyone ever started lookin' for coles. She's already picked out her escape door. And the rest of 'em can go boil."
"Rosto's clever," Steen told me. "He makes allies. Pearl's one of them Rogues that rules by fear. She don't care for no one but herself."
"But
you're
not stupid, Hanse," I said. "You couldn't be and have Dale as your friend all these years. And I can't believe Dale was crackbrained enough to agree to this."