Authors: Scott Lynch
“Are you the Moncraine Company?” said Locke.
“Who wants to know?” said the woman hesitantly.
“I’m Lucaza de Barra,” said Locke. “This is my cousin, Jovanno de
Barra. And this is our friend Verena Gallante.” When this elicited no response, Locke
cleared his throat. “We’re Moncraine’s new players. The ones from Camorr.”
“Oh, sweet gods above,” said the woman. “You’re real.”
“Yeah,” said Locke. “And, uh, wet and confused.”
“We thought— Well, look, we didn’t think you
existed
. We thought Moncraine was making you up!”
“Took ten slow days in a wagon to get here,” said Jean. “Let me assure you, nobody
made us up.”
“I’m Jenora,” said the woman. “And this is Alondo—”
“Alondo Razi,” said the young man. “Weren’t there supposed to be more of you?”
“The Asino brothers are minding the wagon, back around the corner,” said Locke. “So,
we’re flesh and blood. I guess the next question is, does Jasmer Moncraine exist?”
“Moncraine,” muttered Sylvanus. “Wouldn’t shit on his head to give him … shade from
the sun.”
“Moncraine,” said Jenora, “is why Sylvanus is … um … making a clean break from sobriety
at the moment.”
“Moncraine’s in the Weeping Tower,” said Alondo.
“What’s that?” said Jean.
“The most secure prison in Espara. It’s Countess’ Dragoons on the doors, not city
watch.”
“Aw, hell’s blistered balls,” said Locke. “He already got taken up for debt?”
“Debt?” said Jenora. “No, he never got the chance to be hauled in for all that mess.
He decked some pissant lordling across the jaw this morning. He’s up for assaulting
someone of noble blood.”
“
FOURTHSON VIDALOS
,”
SAID
Josten. “Would that your parents had stopped at their third! How many nights have
you spent leaning against my bar, eh? How many times have I brought you in out of
the rain for a glass? You two-faced son of a—”
“For the gods’ sakes,” said Vidalos, “do you think I wanted this? It’s my duty!”
“In front of half the Konseil and the entire Deep Roots—”
“Josten,” said Locke, stepping between the innkeeper and Vidalos, “let’s talk. Herald,
how do you do? I’m Lazari, an advisor.”
“Whose advisor?”
“Everyone’s advisor. I’m a solicitor from Lashain, retained in a broad capacity. I
require a moment in private with Master Josten, to discuss his options.”
“I don’t see that he has any,” said Vidalos.
“Do you have orders to refuse us a few minutes for reflection?” said Locke.
“Of course not.”
“Then I’ll thank you not to enforce orders you haven’t been given.”
Locke put an arm firmly around Josten’s shoulders, turned the sputtering innkeeper
away from the herald, and whispered, “Josten, one thing. Are you absolutely certain
your license is truly paid up?”
“I have a signed receipt in my papers. I could fetch it now and shove it up this powder-blue
pimp’s ass! Until tonight, I would’ve called the bastard a good friend, on my honor.
I never would’ve thought—”
“Don’t think,” said Locke. “I’m paid to do that for you. Herald Vidalos isn’t your
enemy. It’s whoever summoned him to work and gave him a warrant that
somehow
urgently needed to be served at half past the tenth hour of the evening, do you follow?”
“Ah,” said Josten. “
Ahhhhhhh
.”
“We shouldn’t abuse the poor bastard whose boots are on the pavement,” said Locke.
“Our troubles come from higher offices. Nikoros, get over here! Look at this seal
and signature.”
“Capability Peralis,” said Nikoros. Sweat ran down his forehead in glistening lines.
“Second Clerk, Magistrates’ Court. I’ve heard of her.”
“She wouldn’t need an actual magistrate to sign this?” said Locke.
“No,” said Nikoros, “magistrates only sign off on, uh, arrests.”
“And this,” said Locke, “is just a little sting in the ass. Is she Black Iris? Or
any of her superiors?”
“Not according to my lists,” said Nikoros. “Most of the people at the court make a
point of not, uh, not declaring for either party.”
“Well, someone got her to perform a favor.” Locke suddenly became aware that most
of the party, rank on tipsy rank, were watching closely to see if their mountain of
fine liquor was really to be severed from them on the word of a single nervous functionary.
“I don’t suppose Konseil members can just order Vidalos to make himself scarce?”
“Magistrates are, ah, co-equal with the Konseil,” said Nikoros. “Their heralds don’t
have t-to take orders from anyone else.”
“Well, our drunk friends are going to hang this poor bastard from the rafters if I
let this go through.” Locke turned back to Herald Vidalos, grinning broadly. “Everything
seems to be perfectly in order!”
“It gives me little satisfaction,” said Vidalos.
“I’d have thought you’d be happy,” said Locke, “since there’s absolutely no need for
you to shut down the party.”
“Having delivered the warrant,” said Vidalos, “it pains me to report that I’m bound
to carry out my directions therein; I have to observe
that Master Josten has ended this affair and sealed his doors to new customers.”
“Begging your pardon, but you’re not allowed to do anything of the sort,” said Locke.
“That’s
premature restraint of trade
, which is forbidden under the Articles of Karthain. Whoever signed this warrant should
have known that Josten is entitled, by law, to verification of these charges before
a magistrate—”
“But—”
“Prior to interruption of commerce!” continued Locke. “Look, this is fairly basic
stuff from that amendment business about, what—twenty years ago.”
“I … really?” Vidalos’ face lost some of its plum color. “Are you quite sure? I’m
not entirely familiar with that. And I have served a number of similar—”
“I’m fully bonded for practice in Karthain. Imposition of penalty without proper verification
of these charges would expose you to censure for negligence, the penalties for which
could be … well, of course
you
know what they could be. Let’s not dwell on them.”
“Um …” said Vidalos. “Uh, of course.”
“So, you’ve served your warrant in front of the most credible body of witnesses the
city could hope to produce. I accept the warrant on Josten’s behalf and formally request
a magistrate’s verification of its charges. Since we can’t possibly have that until
at least tomorrow morning, the party must continue.”
“Ha! That’s served you out,” shouted someone within the crowd. “Shuffle off, tipstaff!”
“None of
that
!” yelled Locke. “For shame! This man is a good friend to this house, given the awful
task of serving this warrant against his will. And did he flinch? No! Obedient to
duty, he stepped into the lion’s den!”
“Hear him,” cried Firstson Epitalus. Whether he realized the stupidity of needlessly
making an enemy of Vidalos or merely wished his own voice to ring loudest in any acclamation,
Locke blessed him. “Karthain should be proud to have such an honest and fearless fellow
in its service!”
People immediately followed Epitalus’ lead. Catcalls that had barely started up were
replaced with a rising swell of applause.
“I regret my harsh words,” said Diligence Josten, propelled toward Vidalos by a subtle
elbow from Locke, and fully taking the hint. “Give me your pardon, and have a glass
with us.”
“Oh, but …” Vidalos seemed pleased, relieved, and embarrassed all at once. “I’m on
duty—”
“Surely not,” said Josten. “The warrant is served, so your duties are finished.”
“Well, if you put it that way—”
Josten and several accomplices enfolded the herald into the crowd and shuffled him
toward the liquor supply.
“Oh, thank the gods,” muttered Nikoros. “I had no idea you’d picked up such a knowledge
of Karthani law, Lazari.”
“I haven’t,” said Locke. “When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit. Someone’s
going to figure that out soon enough tomorrow.”
“Then there’s no such statute?”
“Fake as a man with three cocks.”
“Really? Damn! It sounded so r-reasonable. Lying to an officer of the court is an
offense they could—”
“That’s not worth worrying about. If pressed I’ll use the never-fail universal apology.”
“What’s the n-never-fail universal apology?”
“ ‘I was badly misinformed, I deeply regret the error, go fuck yourself with this
bag of money.’ But it shouldn’t come to that. First thing tomorrow, we need to reach
this Capability Peralis. If Josten’s papers are magically found to have been ‘misplaced,’
then the whole affair dries up before it can call further attention to itself.”
“And if she won’t roll over for us?” said Jean, who’d been hovering nearby.
“We get someone else. First Clerk, maybe, or an actual magistrate. We’re buying ourselves
a little corner of the Magistrates’ Court tomorrow, come hell or Eldren-fire. When
do the courts open?”
“Ninth hour of the morning.”
“Be outside our door at eight.”
“Oh, uh—”
“At
eight
,” said Locke, reducing his voice to a cold whisper. “So don’t stuff any more of that
shit down your throat tonight.”
“Oh, I, uh, I don’t have any idea what you—”
“Yes.
You do
. I don’t care if you’re totally out of your head on Akkadris, I’ll put a damn leash
around your neck and drag you by it. We’re all going together to put this fire out
before it spreads.”
“
NIKOROS
,”
MUTTERED
Locke, bleary-eyed and fog-brained, as he swung the apartment door open in response
to a frenzied pounding. “What the hell are you about, man? It can’t be anywhere near
eight yet.”
“It’s just after five.” Nikoros looked as though he’d been boot-stomped by a gang
of hangover fairies. His hair was undone, his clothes haphazard, and the bags under
his eyes could have been used for coin pouches. “They’ve got my office, Lazari. Just
like you said.”
“What?” Locke blinked the glue from his eyes and ushered Nikoros inside. “Someone
burned your office down?”
“No, it’s not arson.” Nikoros nodded to Jean, who’d come in through the connecting
door from his side of the suite. Jean wore a black silk dressing gown and was carrying
his hatchets casually in his right hand. “The Master Ratfinder’s office cordoned off
my whole bloody building for a suckle-spider infestation. Sheer luck I wasn’t there
when they showed up, otherwise I’d be getting an alchemical bath in quarantine.”
“Your scribe?”
“He dodged them too. Almost everything was copied or removed in time, but now they’ll
be fumigating with brimstone for three days. Can’t use the place until they’re done.”
“I don’t suppose you’d ever seen so much as one hair on a suckle-spider’s ass?”
“The building’s two years old! Clean as an infant’s soul.”
“Another how-do-you-do from our friends across town. How many people work for this
ratfinder?”
“A dozen or so. Alchemists, sewer-stalkers, corpse-hunters. They handle all things
pestilent and sanitary.”
“How are they regarded?”
“Master Bilezzo’s a hero! Hells, I mostly think so, too. Keeps the city damned clean,
compared to a lot of other places. Forty years without
a plague in Karthain, not even cholera. People notice that sort of thing.”
“This is touchy, then,” said Jean. “We can’t be heavy-handed dealing with this or
it’ll snap right back at us. Sa … someone in the opposition keeps choosing delicate
instruments to poke us with.”
“We need some delicate instruments of our own,” said Locke. “We’re not going to have
any time to deal with the election if we have to run around pissing on these distractions.”
“Do you think you can get my office back?”
“Hmmm.” Locke scratched his stubble. “No. Look, Nikoros, no offense, but if we’ve
got you and your files, we don’t need your office. Let them smoke it out. Our job
as far as this Master Bilezzo is concerned is to make sure Josten’s isn’t closed down
for similar treatment.”
“Very well,” said Nikoros. “But I, uh, my rooms—I suppose I’ll have to board here
for a few days.”
“That might not be a bad thing. This place is our castle, and the siege has started.
Speaking of which, after we deal with the Magistrates’ Court, get me some actual solicitors.
Trustworthy sorts. I presume the party has a few?”
“Of course.”
“Have them join the menagerie here, in the best suites Josten has left. Next time
someone walks in with writs or warrants or gods know what, I want real paper-pushers
on hand to spin authentic nonsense.”
“We seem to be off to a bad start,” said Nikoros.
“We are.”
“And I must apologize … for my, uh, you know. It’s just an occasional thing, you understand.
Keeps me working through the long nights. I can … stop, if you—”
“Do. Throw that shit away. We need you steady and reliable. Dustheads are neither.”
“I’m not a dusthead—”
“Save it. I’ve seen more dustheads, gazers, pissers, burners, and stonelickers than
you can imagine. I’ve even crawled into a bottle myself, once or twice. Don’t try
to placate me; just do us all a favor and stay off it. Get pickled on booze like an
ordinary Deep Roots man.”
“I can … as you say. I can do it.”
“And don’t sweat our situation. By tonight, we’ll be walled in with brutes and solicitors,
most of the locks will be changed, Josten will secure his staff.… You’ll feel better
once our basic defenses are in place. Now get a room, get what sleep you can. Master
Callas and I will fetch you at eight. And hey. Tell whoever’s on duty we want enough
coffee to kill a horse.”
When the coffee came a few minutes later, the maid delivering it wore a gleaming brass
chain around her neck.
“That was quick work on Josten’s part,” said Jean, pouring two steaming cups. “The
chains, I mean. You don’t believe it’ll keep out real mischief, though? Wouldn’t stop
either of us, I should think.”