Authors: Scott Lynch
Locke inked a quill and wrote “Received” at the bottom of the chit.
He then gave the document a splash of wax and pressed Boulidazi’s signet into it.
“I’ll need to retrieve the box before tomorrow’s performance,” she said as they waited
for the signet imprint to harden.
“Come to Gloriano’s Rooms anytime after sunup,” said Locke. “And, ah, my lord would
wish … that is, were he not … distracted—” Locke fumbled two silver coins out of a
belt pouch and passed them to her. “Some suitable, ah, gratuity for your trouble.”
And for your silence
, thought Locke. It was a safe bet that here, as in Camorr, the well-off relied on
open purses to smooth over their poor behavior. Malloria gratified him by touching
the coins to her forehead in salute.
“Appreciated,” she said. “I’ll send a man for the box before noon tomorrow.”
Locke bolted the door behind her, then ran to the steam room and threw the door open.
Moncraine swaggered out, drinking from the bottle of wine, followed by Sabetha in
her dressing gown and Donker with a haunted expression on his face. They all gathered
at the coin box and peered at the contents. Here and there a silver coin gleamed against
the copper.
“That’s … more money than I’ve ever seen,” muttered Donker. “Must be pretty heavy.”
“Shit,” said Sabetha. “Donker’s right about that. Where are we going to hide it now
that we’ve got it? We can’t have the company members walking around with their pockets
jangling. It’ll contradict the story that all the money vanished with Boulidazi.”
“Maybe Mistress Gloriano can hide it,” said Donker.
“I wouldn’t ask her to,” said Locke. “Her place is going to be full of constables
once we report Boulidazi’s tragic fire. Some of them might take the place apart out
of boredom or thoroughness.”
“I hope you’re not about to suggest that we let you take it out of the city,” said
Jasmer.
“Of course not,” said Locke. “All we want is enough to let us get home. The rest is
yours, if we can find some way to dole it out in portions that won’t get anyone hanged.”
Moncraine braced himself against the box and stared into its depths for some time.
Then he snapped his fingers and grinned.
“Salvard,” he said. “Stay-Awake Salvard! The good solicitor. He’ll hold it at his
offices, no questions asked. One of his more discreet services for clients who can’t
or won’t trust a countinghouse. There’ll be a fee, of course, but what do we care?
I’ll take it myself.”
“And
I’ll
go with,” said Galdo, folding his arms.
“Of course.” Moncraine’s smile nearly reached his ears. “You can carry the box. And
someone will need to summon a hired carriage; we can’t walk across the city with the
damned thing plainly visible.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said Locke, moving to the front door. “Can the rest of you
clean up in here?”
“We should leave a bit of a mess,” said Sabetha, tossing a wineglass into the steaming
bath. “Pour some of these bottles into the floor drain. Whoever cleans up will be
able to report that Lord Boulidazi must have had a
lot
to drink before he went off to have his … accident.”
“Lovely notion,” said Locke, elated. “Right. Fix this place up. I’ll get a carriage
and tell the Aquapyria folk that Boulidazi will be here another hour or so. Let’s
have Calo roll off quietly, and we’ll all sneak out and meet up on the next block.
Then back to Gloriano’s for the, ah, last scene of this production!”
Not half past the sixth hour of the evening, Calo, Locke, Sabetha, and Donker clattered
in a leisurely fashion through the neighborhoods of Espara, plainly dressed and with
their theatrical property tarped over. Nobody recognized them or gave them any trouble.
At Gloriano’s, they found the rest of the company safe but for many rampant cases
of nerves. As per the plan, they had chased off all the would-be drinking fellows
and raconteurs and parasites with the story that they wanted order and sobriety prior
to the Penance Day performance, promising a huge debauch afterward. Locke grinned,
and immediately huddled in a whispered conference with Jean, Jenora, Alondo, Chantal,
Sylvanus, and Bert.
“We’ve done it!” Locke said. “Stay-Awake Salvard will hold the money. Jasmer and Castellano
have gone off to leave it with him. You’ll all have to take it slowly, bit by bit.
And be sure that Donker gets a full share; he’s what you might call fragile.”
“My cousin’ll find his feet soon enough,” said Alondo. “And I’ll make damn sure he
gets his cut.”
A general air of relief swept the room. Although Locke wasn’t relishing the task of
dressing Boulidazi’s corpse, and he knew neither of the Gloriano women would appreciate
the only obvious location for an all-consuming accidental fire, the worst was past
and the rest could wait for the fall of darkness. Jenora’s aunt set to work roasting
long strips of marinated beef in her wood-fire hearth. Sylvanus made the acquaintance
of a bottle of plonk, and the others relaxed with cups of ale.
Just after the seventh hour of the evening, Galdo burst into the room, covered in
sweat and quite alone.
“
I
’
M SORRY
,” Galdo gasped, as soon as they’d all moved to the privacy of the room where they’d
unveiled Boulidazi’s corpse that morning. “I’m so sorry! He asked me to make sure
the carriage was held. He sounded so damned reasonable, like
we
do, you know? He said that if he had to walk back to the inn he’d strip my hide.
He took the box … about fifteen minutes later I lost patience. I went looking for
him, and when I asked Salvard’s clerk for Jasmer Moncraine, the man looked at me like
I’d been drinking. That’s when I figured it out.”
“Moncraine’s taken the money and buggered us all,” whispered Alondo.
“
Beggared
us all,” said Jenora. “I can’t even … I don’t know what to say. It’s like all the
gods are having a long hard laugh at our expense.”
Sylvanus threw his bottle to the ground and buried his face in his hands. No more
eloquent commentary was possible, thought Locke, than that a situation would make
Sylvanus Olivios Andrassus waste wine.
“I’m a gods-damned fool,” said Galdo. “I should have known.”
“He’s an actor,” said Sabetha. “More’s the pity, a good one.”
“Let’s get after him,” said Calo. “He can’t be dumb enough to have gone to any of
the landward gates, the way they’re guarded! He’d be insane to put himself on the
roads knowing an alarm was a few hours behind at best. So where would he go?”
“The docks,” said Chantal.
“Well, then, let’s find him and cut off that damn hand he was scheduled to lose! He’s
a big old fellow, how hard can it be?”
“We’ve got no standing here,” said Locke. “Remember? We’ve got no right or call to
push anyone around; we are
merely actors
so long as we’re in Espara.”
“And you’ll never find him,” said Jenora. “Giacomo’s right, Jasmer won’t go by land.
The docks are thick with Syresti and Okanti. He’ll get out on his choice of ships
and no nightskin will ever breathe a word of it to the constables. The dockworkers
have no cause to love the countess’ servants.”
“So we just … we just let him fuck us!” said Bert. “Is that the plan?”
“No,” said Sabetha. “There’s one thing we can do very easily. We can make it look
like Jasmer Moncraine killed Lord Boulidazi.”
“I like the sound of that,” said Locke. “It’ll certainly give the story more weight
than Lord Boulidazi getting drunk and setting a stable on fire.”
“A stable!” cried Jenora. “You can’t mean—”
“I’m sorry, Jenora, I know I should have said something sooner. But it’s obvious.
We can’t burn the inn down, and we can’t just have him spontaneously combust in the
yard. Don’t think of it as losing a stable; think of it as not letting your aunt hang.”
“Castellano, what did you tell the carriage driver after you realized Moncraine was
gone?” said Jean.
“I gave him two coppins for his trouble and told him I’d decided to stay awhile,”
said Galdo. “I didn’t know what to think. I just didn’t want to cause a scene.”
“Well, you’ve saved us by keeping your head,” said Sabetha. “Here’s the new story.
After the play, I went with Boulidazi to the bathhouse. Boulidazi received the money
from Malloria; she’ll testify to that, and she has her sealed chit to prove it. We
claim that we don’t know what Boulidazi did with the money; all we know is that when
he came back here to have a talk with Jasmer,
he did not have it with him
.”
“Simple enough so far,” said Chantal.
“Simple is how it stays,” said Locke, looking at Sabetha. “If I can presume … I think
I know where Verena’s going next. We
all
saw
Boulidazi come here. We
all
saw Moncraine come here. They had a long private conversation, then an argument.
They went out to the stables together for some reason.”
“A few minutes later we noticed the stables on fire,” said Sabetha. “Boulidazi dead
in the wreckage and Moncraine vanished into the night. His guilt will be clear even
to a child.”
“We’ll need to bring Mistress Gloriano in on this,” said Jean. “I’m sorry, Jenora,
I know we meant to keep her out of the lies, but she of all people has to tell the
constables that Moncraine and Boulidazi were here tonight.”
“There’s no helping it, Jovanno, you’re right.” She put her arm over Jean’s shoulder.
“Auntie won’t be best pleased, but
I
can get her to do anything we need. Don’t worry about her.”
“This is still a miserable mess,” said Chantal. “Boulidazi’s people may yet try to
wring every copper they can from us. Maybe even fold the company and take its assets.
Hell, that’s assuming the constables don’t just throw us all in the Weeping Tower
as assumed accomplices.”
“I think,” said Locke, “that we might just have a friend in a fairly high place. Or,
if not a friend, someone with an abiding interest in keeping scandals as subdued as
possible.”
“There’s no subduing the fucking murder of an Esparan lord!” said Bert. “Maybe you
Camorri will get yourselves off the hook, but the rest of us—”
“No,” said Locke. “We are absolutely
not
abandoning you, any of you. Haven’t we done enough to convince you of our sincerity?
And haven’t we pulled off some amazing things together already?”
“Fair enough,” grumbled Bert.
“
Moncraine
fucked us, so we’ll
all
fuck him right back,” said Locke. “And for what he’s done, let me assure you … he’s
made an enemy of our master back in Camorr. He must know it. He’s got enough money
to live on for a couple of years, but he’ll never be able to stop running. As for
the company … I’m sure we can convince our master to lend a hand there as well. He
has resources beyond what you’d believe.”
“At this point I’d believe just about anything,” muttered Alondo.
“We’ll rehearse our story together,” said Sabetha. “Almost like a play. After sunset,
we’ll dress Boulidazi one last time and arrange the stable fire. Once it’s roaring,
members of the company
absolutely
have
to be the ones to go running and fetch the constables. You all have to act surprised
and shocked.”
“Shock will be easy,” said Chantal.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Calo eased it open, revealing Mistress
Gloriano wiping greasy hands on her apron.
“Meat’s done,” she said cheerfully. “And there’s good boiled rice and some apricots …
what? Why are you all staring at me like that?”
“You’d better come in and shut the door, Auntie,” said Jenora. “Meat’s not the only
thing we’ve got to cook before the night’s over.”
“
I DON
’
T
believe you Camorri,” muttered Mistress Gloriano as she helped carry the shrouded
corpse of Gennaro Boulidazi from the wagon to her stables just after dark. “Assuming
this would be the first time I’d ever helped make a body disappear!”
“How the hell were we to know?” grunted Locke.
“I’m in the inn trade in a low part of town, boy. I do like my orderly life, but I’ve
had some folk die in my rooms when it really would have been more convenient for them
to be found floating in the bay. So a-swimming they went.”
Mistress Gloriano had certainly been upset to learn the truth, but once she’d accepted
that Lord Boulidazi had been stabbed by her niece in the middle of an attempted rape,
she’d accepted the loss of her stables as a sort of vengeance.
Calo and Galdo had one end of the corpse, Locke and Gloriano the other. They heaved
the heavy parcel into a pile of hay, and Gloriano shook a faint alchemical lamp to
life. Jean had moved the wagon and horses to the other side of the courtyard, leaving
the structure empty.
“Gods, what a smell,” coughed Galdo as they finished unwinding the dead baron. “Reeking
meat and alchemical dust!”
“He has looked prettier,” said Calo. “Damn, he’s stiff. This ought to be fun.”
The three Gentlemen Bastards wrestled with the rigor-bound body, fitting it with the
jewelry, the boots, and the dagger they’d taken from it the night before.
“Seems a damn shame to waste such a fine blade,” said Galdo.
“Be an even bigger shame to waste a fine pair of Sanza twins,” whispered his brother.
“Ugh, his fingers are swelling. I need some help shoving his signet ring where it
ought to be.”
Feeling like an idiot, Locke assisted as well as anyone could, until the baron’s signet
ring was at least plausibly close to the right place.
“Now then, boys,” said Mistress Gloriano, “if you’re quite finished decorating him,
open this oil-vase for me and give him a good soak. I daresay I’m quite prepared to
light a match on this motherfucker.”
A few minutes later, orange flames were roaring against the black Esparan night, and
all those members of the company that hadn’t run to fetch help were filling water
buckets with every outward sign of haste and sincerity.