Bloodhound (6 page)

"Then I will leave you to your day. Cooper, don't let your guard down with that cousin. Even family goes wrong."

"I know that," I said as Tunstall turned to leave. "Tunstall?" He looked back. "I know we promised, but... will you
really
let Garnett off? By my rough count he's sent at least one hundred and four bad silver coins back into the city's money. There's probably more that he didn't mention. Men have gone to Execution Hill for less."

Tunstall patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Cooper. I just didn't want him scaring our six into running before we talk to them. I will give Day Watch the word to pick up Master Baker Garnett this afternoon. He'll be spared the worst. We'll speak for him. But he'll tell the cage Dogs everyone he passed those coles to, if he wants to walk or use his hands easily again."

I nodded, feeling better. Garnett knew as well as any that the more bad coins got into a city's money, the shakier
all
our money got, yet he'd looked after himself first. He would have to pay for that.

"Off you go, Cooper. I'll see you at four." Tunstall ambled down the street, hands in his pockets. He looked every inch the country cove enjoying the city, if you didn't notice his body was set so that if someone hit him from the side, he wouldn't be knocked over. I would have bet a week's pay his eyes were roving, taking in everything around him. Dogs don't survive in the Lower City, on duty or off, without paying attention. Of course, as long as Tunstall's been a Dog, he's never really off duty.

I still had Pounce to manage. "What's this you're telling me about plans?" A passing gaggle of lads stared at the girl who talked to her cat. I glared at them. They laughed and raced on by me.

We set off down the street, Pounce trotting at my side.
You think too much, that's your problem. Have I led you astray before?

I could think of dozens of times that his advice had gotten me into trouble. "Yes." I wiped my forehead on my sleeve.

You're being petty. You always come out all right
.

"I had the highest healer's bill of any Puppy in Corus," I reminded him. "How many broken bones and slashes have I gotten because you yowled, 'This way'?"

Yet you preen like a pigeon when they call you Terrier. You don't mind the bruises and cuts then
.

"Why do I argue with a cat?" I always ask myself that, when I know there's only one answer: I don't learn. I can't even say it's because he's a
talking
cat. He's a cat, and cats just aren't reasonable. "Cousin Phil's likely to be hiring out at the Daymarket, this time of year." We turned onto Jane Street. "Best catch him there. If Delene hears of him gambling, she's liable to lay him out with a pot."

'Twas then I heard a four-legged dog yelp. I looked about us. Across the street I saw the scent hound Achoo with her newest handler, Ercole Hempstead. Hempstead yanked at the hound's leash, dragging her when she clearly did not wish to go. My tripes twisted in pity for her. Achoo had been her happiest last year, when she'd been handled by my friend Phelan Rapp. Then Phelan had quit the Dogs to join Rosto's side of the law. Achoo had gone from one handler to another, each of them less patient with her than the last, though veteran Dogs always said that when she was put on a scent, she never failed to track down what she was asked to find. I'd heard that she hated hound kennel life after living with Phelan in his rooms, but all of her other handlers insisted that hounds be kenneled. And it seemed that they didn't have the right character to match with hers. Given my own record with partners, I felt plenty of sympathy for her.

Watching her now, I thought that Achoo looked like she just wanted to sniff around where she stood. Who could blame her? She was a scent hound. But Hempstead was having none of it. He raised the free end of the leash and struck her with it. She yelped, cowering. He was a big, burly man, and she was a skinny creature who stood no higher than his knee. That blow must have
hurt
.

I ground my teeth. "Festering slavemonger's byblow...," I whispered. I'd like to give him the end of that rawhide!

Will you do something?
Pounce demanded.

I looked at Pounce. "He's a ranking Senior Dog, and a handler. He'll order me about my business."

Another yelp from Achoo hit me between my shoulder blades.

If you don't stop him, you are not the girl I believe you to be
.

"You
do sommat, you're so clever," I muttered, but Achoo's whimpers called me across the street. I dug my hands in my pockets as I approached them. "Excuse me, Senior Guardsman Hempstead," I said. "I know this hound. She does better with gentleness."

He glared at me. He was going to write me up, I could see it on his face. "Mithros's shield, you
dare
– ah. Goodwin's pet. Tunstall's girly. Think you're as good as a Senior Dog and experienced handler, do you?"

I ducked my head. "No, sir. Only, I was told you got this hound but a week ago, and I've known her in times past." Achoo slunk past Hempstead to nudge my hand. I took it from my pocket to pet her ears. A glance told me she was hard-used and half starved. Her curly white fur was matted. She used to weigh more than thirty pounds, but she looked like she might weigh only twenty now. I felt cold all over. I cannot abide anyone who mistreats animals. "Sir, she likes to stop and smell things, when she's not on the job. For fun, like, or practice."

"She's got no discipline. She's useless! Won't obey a command in plain Common instead of some foreign jabber! No sense of who's master!" He leaned in. I could smell the drink on him. He was swilled, and the hour not even noon. "Just like you.
Terrier
." He laughed.

"She's a good worker. She's one of the city's best scent hounds." I hate tosspots. 'Twas a drunkard got one of my friends killed when we was Puppies. "She deserves better even if she is silly off watch. Plenty of us are silly off watch, Senior Guardsman." I stepped on thin ice, but Achoo licked my hand like I was her only friend. Her ribs showed through her coat.

"Then I'll just tell Sergeant Ahuda you've the handling of her, eh?" He grabbed my hand and shoved Achoo's leash into it. "You, all untrained in scent hounds, you can work this miserable scut. They should sell her for bear meat anyway.
You
work her, then come tell me my trade. We'll see how clever you are!"

He walked off, laughing.

I'm glad he's gone
, Pounce said.
A man like him should fall into a midden and break both legs
. His tail switched to and fro.
Maybe I'll take a little trouble and arrange it
.

I stared at Pounce, wondering if I ought to say he should not joke about such things. I thought the better of it and raised the leash in my hand to look it over. Achoo shrank back. She feared her own leash. To Achoo it wasn't just a tool of her trade anymore. It was a tool for punishment.

I saw her cower and decided to wait until later for a word with Pounce. Right now this poor hound had been passed to yet another strange new handler.

I crouched so our eyes were on a level. "No, it's all right, Achoo." I ran my hands over her as gently as I could. She had welts on her poor body. There would be no combing her fur. Those mats had to be cut off. As she stuck her nose in my ear, I glared at Pounce. "This is
your
doing." I said it quiet, so as not to frighten the creature under my hands.

But at least I'll help
. Pounce came over and sat at my side. Achoo lowered her nose until it touched his. She took a sniff and sneezed three times.

You're going to be all right now, as long as you listen to Beka and to me
, Pounce told her.
Beka growls, but she feeds her animals first. And she'll let you smell whatever you like
.

Achoo looked at me, then nudged Pounce with her nose. He stumbled backward.

None of that
, Pounce warned.
Treat me with respect. I'm not an ordinary cat
.

"You're cat
meat
if you foist any more creatures on me, scent hounds or no," I told him. "I'm not a trained handler. Doubtless they'll just take her from me again." I was trying to decide how I might bathe Achoo without hurting her. And there was still my cousin Philben to find. How do my days get so busy?

We went home, to begin by getting a meal into the poor starved beast. I was feeding Achoo meat pasties I'd crumbled into a bowl of fresh goat's milk when I heard feet on my stairs.

Kora looked in. "We missed you at breakfast. What's this – another creature?" she asked, with a nod for the pigeons that fed on corn at my windowsill, as well as at the cat and hound. Then she noted Achoo's condition. "Beka, what happened to this poor animal?"

Once I told her Achoo's story, Kora ordered me to leave the hound to her. I was glad to do it. Kora has a way with creatures and, unlike her preparations for humans, her animal medicines work. Since Pounce had given Kora Fuzzball, she had collected a second cat, a pup, and a pair of lovebirds. Ersken said he couldn't wait until they moved into the Dancing Dove. There was scarce room in Kora's bed for him. She was a fine one to talk about my creatures! At least the pigeons don't live with me and Pounce.

"You won't know her when you see her again," Kora told me as I left her with Achoo. "Hempstead, you said her handler's name was?"

"Kora, don't you go magicking any Guardsmen," I warned her. "No matter how much they might deserve it. It's not the kind of thing I can turn a blind eye to."

Kora gave me a sidelong look as she rubbed Achoo's ears. "Beka, I would
never
test you that way."

I snorted. Then I looked at Pounce. "Are you coming?"

I will stay with Achoo
, he said.
Until she knows Kora better. I can translate. You won't need me to talk to your cousin
.

"She has a cousin?" I heard Kora ask as I went out the door.

Several
, Pounce replied.
Most of her family on her father's side did not like it that she lived at Provost's House, or that she became a Dog. They prefer that she stay away
.

"Tell
all
my secrets, why don't you?" I called as I rattled down the stairs. I felt uneasy in my tripes, though not about Pounce speaking to Kora of my family. It was Kora being clever about Hempstead that worried me. I know full well that Kora might do something devious to the handler, if Pounce does not.

On the other hand, he deserves to be punished somehow. What I don't know won't hurt me.

I shook those worries off and headed for the Daymarket, listening to the pigeons on the ground and the window ledges as I walked. The ghosts they carried were still quiet. If folk were getting killed, they knew why and accepted it. I loved these calm weeks before the harvesters returned to Corus. They were restful not just for me as a Dog, but for the Beka who heard the pigeons' ghosts. Once folk with big hauls and then money in their pockets reached the city, it would be another matter. Killings would pick up then.

I located Phil easily. He was at the Daymarket fountain with his fellow carters, as I expected. They were hunkered down in a circle, their eyes on the ground. As I walked up to them, I heard the clatter of a dice cup.

I grabbed Phil by his ear. He came up with a yelp, scrabbling at my wrist. His friends started to laugh.

"That your woman, Phil? Looks a bit skinny for your usual taste!" one of them japed.

"Stuff yer gob!" someone said. "Don't you know who she is, you crackbrain?"

Phil twisted around to look at me. "Mithros's staff, Beka, wha'd you want with me? You ain't in uniform! You got no call to haul me about like some Rat!"

"I don't?" I asked. I leaned in so his friends wouldn't hear me whisper, "Coles to Baker Garnett, Phil." I looked at the coins in front of the gamblers. All were coppers. "Any of those yours? Do you have a bet down?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish's. Then he shook his head.

I let go of his ear and tucked my hand in the crook of his arm. "We'll talk, all nice and cousinly." Gentle-like I towed him out of earshot of his friends.

"If you was nice and cousinly, we wouldn't have this talk at all," he groused.

"I didn't hit you, did I? It's just a few questions, and I'll be on my way. Oh, and maybe a look in your purse." I've never had to deal with family as a Dog before. I can't say I care for it.

We perched on the driver's seat of his cart. I looked at Phil as he wiped his brow with a ragged handkerchief. When I was eight, before fortune smiled on us and my Lord Provost brought Ma and our family to live in his house, Phil was my handsome older cousin. He helped Mama carry baskets of laundry and brought us bundles of food from my Granny Fern. Now he was a husband and father to four little ones of his own. There were crow's-feet at the corners of his blue eyes, and he didn't laugh so much anymore. Providing for a family did that to Lower City coves. I hoped I wouldn't have to deal hard with him.

"Your purse," I said, and nudged him with my foot.

He glared at me. "I'd think you'd trust family." He edged away and upended his purse on the bare spot of bench he'd left between us. I took the worn leather bag from his hands and made sure he'd kept no coins back from me. "You're a cruel, suspicious mot, Beka Cooper. You always were. Doggin's the right work for you."

His coins were all coppers. "You gave your only silver to Garnett?"

"No. I had two other coins. Once I knew they was tainted, I went to a friend with a forge – no, Beka, I'll not give up her name! She melted the coins down and separated silver from bronze. She bought the raw metal, so I saw a bit of money back. Not what my day was worth for curst certain, the sarden belly robbers."

I'd no interest in anyone who melted down the coles only for the metal. "You
saw
them melted?"

"Mithros strike me if I lie. Goddess tears, Beka! Mayhap I weren't raised in Provost's House, but I know what harm coles do."

I patted Phil's arm and picked up his coppers, sliding them back into his purse. "So where'd you get the coles? Gambling? You know Delene will have your hide if she catches you dicing." I jerked my head toward his friends and their game.