27
THE HARBOUR-MASTER
The entrance to the Captains’ Rest was a gaping
archway that looked more like the portal to a castle or a temple.
Two more snuffers stood on guard, these ones in fancy uniforms that
matched the arms carved into the arch’s crest; they frowned at
Berren as he followed his master. Beyond the arch lay another
square yard, open to the sky and larger than the first. A wild
variety of plants filled the place – scented and flowering bushes
scattered around a handful of small trees. Several different ivies
competed for domination of the walls. Paths wound around the yard,
punctuated by little marble benches, barely large enough for two
people to sit on at once. Berren saw at least a dozen colourful
birds, perched in the trees and around the walls. A low hum of
conversation filled the air. The effect made Berren think he’d
walked into the exotic palace garden of some faraway
kingdom.
‘Copied from the
garden at the Watchman’s Arms,’ whispered Master Sy. ‘This is where
sea captains and merchants come to make their business.’ Lilissa’s
eyes darted from one thing to the next, wide with
wonder.
‘It’s like a palace!’
said Berren.
Master Sy nodded. He
pointed to their left. ‘Those are the private rooms and lodgings.
Only guests are allowed inside there.’ He gestured ahead. ‘That
leads to the grand hall. They won’t let us in there either. It’s
where the Guild of Sea Captains and Traders meets. But over here .
. .’ He turned right down a path, so crowded by greenery that it
brushed Berren’s legs as he walked. ‘Anyone can come here. This is
where the food halls are, and the baths, and . . . various other
diversions.’
From the way he said
it, Berren knew that diversions meant
women. Over the time he’d been Master Sy’s apprentice, he’d noticed
that the thief-taker became strangely clumsy and fumbling on the
few times he spoke on the subject, particular when Lilissa was
around. Berren, on the other hand, had grown up with Master
Hatchet, near the bottom of Reeper Hill. He’d lived one door away
from Club-Headed Jin’s whorehouse and he’d already seen about as
much as there was to see. He’d begun to suspect that on this one
subject, he might actually know more than his master.
He glanced at Lilissa
again. Maybe he did know more than Master Sy, but he still didn’t
know nearly as much as he would have liked.
The thief-taker led
them out of the gardens onto a sheltered veranda and then into a
wide hall. The delicious scents of food laced the air. Paintings
and hangings lined the walls. Berren remembered that he was still
ravenous.
‘Master? Did it
used to be a palace?’ he
asked.
‘No. But the Guild of
Sea Captains and Traders has a lot of money, and the guild-master
likes to think himself something of a king. Now remember what I
said, boy, and be quiet. And guard your eyes, both of you.’
Berren still stared
at everything he saw. Uniformed servants intercepted Master Sy,
speaking in hushed whispers. Other men and women wandered through
the hall, dressed in silks and satins laced with gold and silver
and decked with jewels. Even in his wildest dreams, Berren had
never imagined that so much wealth could exist. The ten emperors
awarded to Master Sy, such an immense fortune not all that long
ago, now seemed paltry. It might have bought a shirt, or perhaps a
hat, for people like these. Might
have.
He stayed close to
his master, almost afraid of what would happen if he were to get
lost. Everywhere he looked there was a new wonder. Even the air
smelled of gold. No hint of rotting fish here, only the damp scents
of flowers and incense and the occasional heady waft of Lilissa.
She was wearing perfume, something that must have cost her more
than a fishmonger’s son could ever afford. Maybe she’d bathed, too,
in the marble public baths up near Deephaven Square.
He tried not to think
about that, but it was impossible. He lost track of where they
were. Thoughts raced inside his head, passing through each other,
clouding out everything else. Lilissa. Perfume. Baths. Money.
Master Sy.
He stopped, frozen
for a second. Lilissa and Master Sy? No, it couldn’t be. Could
it?
The servants led the
way through a wide doorway – the handles on the doors were made of
gold – and into a cosy dining hall. Perhaps half a dozen small
tables stood around the room, all of them occupied. A buzz of
voices filled the air. Berren could see at once that this room, and
the people in it, were not as rich as the rest. It showed in their
clothes. As for the hall, he could tell by the plainness of the
wooden tables and chairs and the gaudiness of the curtains and the
paintings on the walls. The servants left. Master Sy picked his way
across to a table where a man sat on his own. The man was unusually
fat, with rolls of flesh hanging from his neck and under his face.
Berren disliked him at once. Fat meant rich.
‘Harbour-Master.’
Master Sy bowed to the man and then introduced Lilissa. ‘This is
Lilissa. She’s ward to my brother Talon, who sailed into the city a
few weeks ago on the Heraclian.’
The fat man didn’t
get up. He nodded at Master Sy, but his eyes were all over Lilissa
like a bad rash.
‘How delightful. And
how did you find the Heraclian, my
sweet?’ He didn’t even seem to notice that Berren was there.
Berren’s dislike solidified into a knot of hate and anger and
envy.
Lilissa curtseyed.
She put on her shy look and stared at her shoes. Then she batted
her eyelashes at the harbour-master. Berren clenched his fists.
‘She rode surprisingly low in the water, sir. But her cabins were
comfortable and she took the seas well enough.’
It was obviously an
answer they’d rehearsed. The harbour-master tried to smile, but to
Berren it seemed more like a sneer. ‘And where is your guardian,
pretty one?’
‘In Varr by now I
hope, sir. He is here to see . . .’ She stared even harder at the
floor. ‘I cannot say, sir.’
‘No need to explain,
little bird. I understand. I know Syannis well, you see.’ The
harbour-master licked his lips. Berren fidgeted. He had to stop
himself from jumping on to the table and screaming: Fat old man! Keep your eyes off her! That she’d
betrayed him to the thief-taker instead of hiding him and that he
was supposed to be hating her for it, all that was long
forgotten.
Master Sy pointed to
Berren. ‘This is my apprentice, Berren. I’m showing him the places
of the city that matter most. And of course the people.’ He turned
to Berren. ‘Lady Lilissa, Berren, this is Harbour-Master Regis
VenDormen, one of the most powerful men in this city.’
Their introductions
complete, Master Sy sat down. Something in his manner made Berren
realise that he wasn’t the only one who disliked the
harbour-master.
The harbour-master
immediately set his attention on Lilissa. He spoke to her slowly
and carefully and with simple words, so he ended up sounding as
though he was talking to a child. All the time he stared fixedly at
Lilissa’s chest and Berren couldn’t do anything except fidget on
his chair. He was trying to sound important, but his job didn’t
sound that difficult. As far as Berren could tell, it came down to
deciding where each ship should weigh anchor and when it would be
allowed to load or unload its cargo. This sounded straightforward
enough, something almost anyone could have done; but just when
Berren had felt unable to bite his tongue, Master Sy had elbowed
him. When no one else was watching, Lilissa shot Berren a look,
stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face. Berren grinned,
sighed with relief, and tried to make himself relax. He nodded and
gave a soft gasp and tried to look suitably awed. The
harbour-master smiled. Then he promptly seemed to forget that
either Berren or Lilissa existed. For the rest of the evening, he
and Master Sy talked animatedly about people and places and ships,
and Berren was left to pick at his supper. He didn’t recognise the
food he was eating, and it was far too rich. After a few mouthfuls,
his stomach began to rumble. He cleaned his plate nevertheless. He
didn’t dare not. He smiled at Lilissa and she smiled back, and that
somehow made everything else worth it.
At some point, he
dozed off. The food had long since ended, but a steady flow of wine
came to the table and most of it found its way into the
harbour-master. Berren was even given a glass of his own, heavily
watered, and that had been around the time he’d fallen asleep. He
woke up again with a start, horrified with himself. His head was
throbbing again. The harbour-master and Master Sy were getting to
their feet. Lilissa was still sitting bolt upright, eyes wide,
cheeks flushed. There was a half-empty wine-glass in front of her.
She stifled a yawn. When Berren cocked his head, she rolled her
eyes.
‘It’s been a
pleasure, as usual,’ the harbour-master was saying. His cheeks,
which had been pasty white at the start of the evening, were now
rosy.
‘Yes.’ Master Sy
helped him up from the table. ‘Your company is appreciated, as
usual.’ He smiled, although Berren could sense his tension. ‘I am,
as always, grateful that you find time amid so many arduous
responsibilities, for your friends.’
The harbour-master
belched loudly.
‘There’s one other
little thing I suppose I might mention, ’ Master Sy
said.
The air changed. The
harbour-master’s cheery smile fell away. His eyes turned cold and
hard. The air seemed to crackle. Unconsciously, Berren sat up
straighter and got ready to run. He knew that sort of look. Hatchet
got it sometimes. The killing look, his boys had called it. Never
mind the hiding you’d take later – when the master got that look,
you ran.
‘Yes?’
‘Those pirates we
were talking about a month back.’
‘Yes, the
fishermen.’
‘Well, that’s the
thing. I don’t think it’s them. You might cast your eyes over who
comes and goes through the Sea Gate in the dead of night.’ The Sea
Gate was at the bottom of Reeper Hill. In the dead of night,
everyone came and went through it. ‘And
who doesn’t. I’m fairly sure you won’t find any mudlarks using it,
you see. And yet they wander your docks. It is a
puzzle.’
‘I see.’ The
harbour-master smiled and clasped the thief-taker’s shoulder, a
gesture of friendship and affection. ‘Well, I dare say they come up
and down the Avenue of Emperors like most honest folk, but when I
see one, I shall ask him. One way or another, this piracy will be
stopped. I commend your efforts, sir.’ He sounded like he meant it,
too, but his eyes didn’t change. The killing look never
shifted.
Master Sy made his
farewells and scooped up Berren and Lilissa, sweeping them towards
the doors. As soon as they were back in the gardens outside, he
pulled Lilissa close. He whispered into her ear and pressed
something into her hand. She stopped, looked shocked, and then
Master Sy took her arm and pulled her on again. When they emerged
into the Avenue of Emperors, he let go of her and grabbed hold of
Berren instead.
‘I’m very sorry,
Berren, but I’ve misjudged our friend the harbour-master, and badly
so. There are men already following us. Take this.’ Now he pressed
a small knife into Berren’s hand. ‘When they come for us, run, do
you hear? Run as fast as you can. Look after Lilissa. If I don’t
come back, tell Kol everything that happened tonight. Don’t trust
him, just tell him. And then, no matter what he does, leave it
be.’
Berren blinked,
uncomprehending. ‘Wuh?’ He could feel the danger, though. He had a
sixth sense for that sort of thing. You needed to, in Shipwrights,
if you were going to survive. He glanced over his shoulder. Four
hooded men had come out into the avenue after them. They were all
armed. Snuffers. Master Sy gave Berren a hard shove in the back. He
didn’t bother whispering any more.
‘Now, lad!
Run!’
Whys could come
later. When someone said run and there were snuffers on the street,
Berren ran.