“Jack’s taking care of himself,” said James. “If he didn’t call out the alarm, the Bashers would think he was in league with us.”
A short distance later they reached a widening of the tunnel and from along both sides of the wall men stepped into view, surrounding the trio. There were a half-dozen of them, all armed. A large gray-haired man in front stepped forward into the torchlight.
After a moment he smiled. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Jowls covered with stubble hung from a head that seemed a size too big for anything human. His eyes looked as much like a pig’s as a man’s. A bulbous nose that had been broken too many times to recall was the centerpiece of his malformed visage.
“Well, Jimmy the Hand,” said the large man, slapping his left hand with the long sap he held in his right. “You looking for some pain, boy?”
“Looking to talk, Mace.”
“I always thought you talked too much, even when you was one of us, you little snot.” With that he shouted, “Get ‘em, lads!” and swung his billy club at James’s head.
FIVE - Monsters
James ducked.
The billy club split the air above his head as he shouted, “Mace! Wait! We need to talk!”
Jazhara had her staff at the ready and William brandished his sword, but both held off from engaging the approaching thieves until a blow was delivered.
“I’ll talk to you,” answered Mace, swinging again at the elusive former thief, “with this!”
“Who’s been chewing up your Bashers?” shouted James as he avoided a third swing.
The large man stopped, holding his club high above his head in preparation for another blow. “What you know about that, boy?”
James kept his distance. “I hear things.”
Suddenly the man looked worried, and James knew that something grave must have occurred, for as long as he had known Mace the Bosun, the man had never shown fear or doubt. Mace lowered his billy and held up his free hand to signal the other thieves to stop their advance.
“All right, then,” he said at last. “What have you heard?”
“Just that someone — or something — has been grabbing your men and leaving them . . .” James was bluffing. He knew no details, but reckoned that what Rat-Tail Jack had referred to was in some way connected to the “monsters” Simon had described at the Rainbow Parrot. And the old toffsman’s advice about bringing up this topic had proved accurate so far.
“Mangled,” said one of the other thieves.
“Mangled,” repeated James.
“It’s fair disgustin’,” said another thief. “Looks like they’d been gnawed on, like a dog does wit’ a bone, you know, Squire?”
Others nodded.
“Where?” asked James.
“That’s the thing,” said Mace. “One place, then another -there’s no rhyme or reason to it. You never know.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked James.
“Fair close to a week, now,” said Mace.
James said, “You let us go by, Mace, and I’ll find out what’s killing your men and get it dealt with.”
“How you going to do that if some of my toughest men can’t face this thing, whatever it is?”
Jazhara held up her hand and a globe of light sprang forth.
“Blind me eyes!” exclaimed one of the thieves. “A bloody magician!”
“The Prince’s bloody magician,” corrected James.
Mace waved his billy at Jazhara. “You know the Mockers have no truck with magic!” he shouted. “Prince’s squire and all, you still know the Mockers’ Law!”
Jazhara closed her hand and the light vanished. “Look the other way for a while.”
“Or else let me call down a few squads of the Prince’s regulars,” said William. “A couple of hundred armed men might flush the thing out, don’t you think?”
The thought of soldiers invading the Thieves’ Highway was obviously more odious than a magician, for after a moment Mace said, “All right, you can pass. But if any more of my lads gets killed, Prince’s squire or no, the death mark will be back on you, boy. You have my word on that.”
James bowed theatrically, and said, “Your warning is heard. Now, if we may go?”
Mace waved them by. “Tread lightly, Jimmy the Hand. There are them about who ain’t members of the Guild.”
“Noted. What’s the password?”
“‘Lanky boy’,” answered Mace.
They left the Mockers and continued down the passage. When they were safely out of earshot, Jazhara said, “I understand many people fear magic, but why are the Mockers so averse to it?”
James said, “Because thieves thrive on misdirection and subterfuge. You ever hear of a thief stealing something from a magician?”
Jazhara laughed. “Only in stories.”
“That’s the point. If Arutha wanted to rid the city of thieves, he could for a while by having you, or someone like you, ferret them out with magic.”
Jazhara peered around the tunnel. “I think they overrate our abilities. I could create some problems in a limited area for a small number of them, but once I had left, I suspect they would return, like rats.”