22
COURTING DANGER
‘No.’ The justicar shook his head. ‘My authority
stops at the water’s edge. I can’t do anything with this. You’re
the thief-taker. You want your money, you go and get him.’ They’d
been in the Eight Pillars of Smoke for half an hour. The Justicar
had listened politely enough to the thief-taker and then for twenty
minutes he’d talked about other things, mostly about the penny
increase in grain tax recently announced by the Overlord and the
likely trouble that would bring. For all that time, he’d pointedly
ignored Berren’s presence. Now, though, now that he’d finally
returned to the subject that had brought them together, his eyes
settled on Berren for the first time. ‘And I believe I instructed
you not to bring your boy into my presence again.’
Master Sy’s face
didn’t change, but Berren heard a rumble of distant angry thunder
in his master’s voice. ‘The boy needs to learn. Where I go, he
goes.’
‘Well then he must be
going to Siltside.’ The Justicar smiled and then yawned. ‘I’m sure
that will be an enlightening experience for him.’
‘I don’t do my work
across the river,’ said Master Sy. He still sounded amiable enough,
but Berren knew him better. Inside he cringed. Most likely,
he was the one who was going to feel
the worst of Master Sy’s wrath, simply because he was
there.
‘Well neither do I.
The difference is that you make a choice, while I am bound by
imperial law. I’ll have boats and a few dozen good men at the ready
first thing in the morning. At dawn, if you like.’
‘And who’s going to
lead your men, Justicar? It had better be someone I
know.’
‘Oh well, that it
most certainly is. You, Syannis. You’re going to lead
them.’
‘I’m a thief-taker,
not a soldier.’
The Justicar snorted
like a pig. ‘And I am simply a trivial functionary voicing the
emperor’s will, communicated directly into my thoughts by a gang of
eunuch mages in Varr who have nothing better to do with their
time.’ He spat. ‘Pull the other one, Syannis. What are you after?
More gold?’ He reached into his robes and fiddled there for a few
seconds. When his hand emerged again, it was holding a small purse.
He opened it up and counted out five golden emperors. ‘There. In
addition to our agreed price. Which you only get if you bring me
back this Bloody Dag fellow alive. The guild would like to torture
him and then parade him in public up on The Peak. It would help a
lot if you could bring back some of their missing merchandise too.’
He showed his teeth. ‘You know. So that they can be sure you aren’t
just leading them in circles.’
The thief-taker ran
his fingers over the coins. He picked them up and moved them around
the palm of his hand. ‘Five emperors for a day’s work? I suppose
that’s a reasonable offer.’ Then he glanced at Berren. ‘Then
there’s the boy, too.’
The Justicar blinked.
For a few seconds, he only stared at Master Sy. Then his jaw
dropped. He started to stutter. ‘You . . . You . . . You must be
out of your mind! For . . .’ He glared at Berren. ‘You want me to
pay for him?’
‘I believe the
entitlement for an apprentice is two coins for every ten to his
master. That’s the guild’s valuation, Kol, not mine. Imperial law,
just like you said, and I wouldn’t want to cross the guild. Would
you?’
By now the top of the
Justicar’s head was bright red. Shaking, his fingers dipped into
his purse and drew out another golden emperor. ‘I’ll not forget
this,’ he hissed.
‘Oh tosh.’ Master Sy
snatched up the last coin. ‘I could have held out for ten emperors
and you’d have paid me. You got a bargain today, Kol, and you know
it.’ He rose. ‘Good day, Justicar.’
Outside, the
thief-taker flipped one of the gold coins at Berren. ‘There. You
earned your first emperor. Go and enjoy yourself, lad. I’ll not
need you tomorrow.’
‘But . .
.’
Master Sy wagged a
finger at Berren. ‘No, lad. This is dangerous work now. Siltside
isn’t Bedlam’s Crossing, and I’ll wager you your one emperor
against all five of mine that Kol will pick the most brutal men
he’s got for this. Most likely they’ll run riot. There’s going to
be knives and clubs and swords and you don’t know the first thing
about fighting. Not for real.’
Berren stamped his
foot. ‘Then teach me, master. Teach me swords! Teach me how to
fight so that I can help you!’
‘No, boy. I’ve told
you when I’ll teach you swords. You listen to me, lad, you hang on
to every word you hear and commit it to your heart and then maybe,
a couple of years from now, you’ll know enough to start being
useful to me. Then I might think about teaching you how to fight.’
He chuckled to himself. ‘If I were you, I’d go and spend some of
that gold on learning how to take a drink or two. You might even
enjoy yourself. Or take Lilissa down to the docks for the evening.
Or go to the market and buy her something nice. Let her know that
her fishmonger’s son is going to have to strive bloody hard to be
good enough for her.’
For a few seconds it
worked. Berren’s mind wandered. He thought of Lilissa and how he’d
felt when she’d been around him, and how right the thief-taker was,
that spending some time alone with her was about as nice a thought
as he could think. For a few seconds, until they emerged from
behind the courthouse and into Four Winds Square, and he realised
that Master Sy was simply trying to get rid of him. Telling him to
buy her presents? Telling him to go and spend some time with her?
Alone, with no one to watch over them? Get her
out of your head, lad. That’s what the thief-taker used to
say. Got herself a friend. A young man sort of
friend, if you catch my drift. A fishmonger’s son. A good
sort. And what happened to keep your
hands to yourself with her or I’ll cut them off and dump them in
the sea and you with them. Eh?
‘Master,’ he said,
after thinking about this for a few seconds more. Two could play at
this game. ‘How would I go about courting her? Properly, I mean.
Like a gentleman. ’ There. The thief-taker could hardly complain
about a question like that. Berren hid a grin. Master Sy would have
to answer, and properly too, or else let him go across the river to
Siltside for the fight.
To his surprise,
though, the thief-taker stopped. He turned around, put a hand on
each of Berren’s shoulders and grinned. The most frightening thing
was that he seemed truly pleased. ‘Now, that, lad, is the first
clever question I’ve heard from you.’ He pursed his lips. ‘You
really want to know?’
Berren
nodded.
‘You won’t be the
first to court her, you know. There have been others. This one at
the moment trying his luck, I think she likes him.’
‘I don’t think she
likes me, master.’
The thief-taker
grunted. ‘Don’t be so sure.’ Then he led Berren out into the middle
of the square, to the bronze statue of the late Emperor Khrozus. He
leaned back against it and then slid down until he was squatting on
the ground. ‘Women come in many kinds, as best I can see it, lad.
There’s those you can win with derring-do. There’s those you can
win with jewels and gold. There’s those you can win with wine and
song. There’s those you can win simply by being kind. Lilissa’s not
any of those. How do you court her? With a bit of them all, lad.
With a bit of them all. Show her you can look after her. Show her
you can take care of her. Show her you won’t ever leave her. Show
her you can protect her. Show her you can love her. Show her you
can take her to places she’s never been. Show her wonders. Show her
strength. Show her kindness and compassion. Show her she can be
anything and so can you. Take her dancing in the sea, take her
flying in the sky, take her to the finest table in The Peak, then
take her home and take your leave and ask for nothing in return.
You can do all those things and you might still not unlock the
heart of a lady like Lilissa.’ He slapped Berren on the back and
jumped to his feet. ‘Yes, you can do all of those things and get
nothing at all for your trouble; but at least then you can say, in
all honesty, that you tried, you really tried as hard as anybody
reasonably could, and if she still doesn’t love you, well then most
probably it’s because some half-bastard mage put a spell on her.
That or she once fell in the sea and a merman got to her.’ He
laughed. ‘Or maybe she just has a thing for
fishmongers.’
The more Berren
thought about any of this, the less sense he could make of Master
Sy’s words. As they walked across the open space of the square
towards the Godsway corner and the alley that would take them home,
the furrows in his brow grew steadily deeper. The thief-taker
strode into his yard. The gang of children were there again; they
scattered around him, laughing and chanting, run while you can, run while you can, run while you can
from the thief-taker man, until Master Sy shooed them away.
He unlocked his door and went into the cool gloom of the
house.
‘Master . .
.’
The thief-taker
didn’t even break stride. It was as if he’d been waiting for Berren
to open his mouth. ‘Take her down to the sea-docks, lad. Buy her a
pickled fish in a bun and then take her down to the edge of the
water and sit on the wall and watch the sun set. Tell her who you
are. You’ll get most of your emperor back in crowns and you’ll
know, by the time you walk her home, whether she wants you to do it
again.’ He didn’t look round, just started to busy himself with
tidying the table and cleaning his boots. Berren’s chores, on any
other day.
Berren hovered in the
doorway, uncertain.
‘Go on, lad. Sunset
won’t wait forever and you’ll not be doing yourself any favours if
you make her run.’
Quietly, Berren
closed the door. Outside in the yard, he took a deep breath. His
heart was beating quickly, already excited by what he was about to
do.
Waiting was only
making him even more nervous. Abruptly, he set off, heading for the
docks. Not the sea-docks and a sunset, though. No, to the river
docks and dawn. To boats filled with swords. To
Siltside.