Erik sat forward. “Care to bet it’s about there?” he said, his finger stabbing at a point on the coast due west of Quester’s View.
“No bet,” said Owen. “I’ve come to appreciate your instincts.”
Erik sat back in the chair. “I actually hope I’m wrong and Fadawah’s all tied up outside of Yabon. I can imagine what I would do if I was building defensive fortifications along that route.”
Owen said, “You have too much imagination. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
Erik looked at his old friend and said, “Not often enough.” He stood and said, “I have things to see to. I’ll report in when I’ve done talking to the rest of the prisoners.”
“Supper is ready. Get back here before it’s all gone.” Owen added, “I’ll be here,” and went back to his reports as Erik walked off.
Dash waited, and as the darkness deepened, he began to fume. It was already a quarter hour past midnight and Kirby hadn’t put in an appearance. He was about to start looking for him when he sensed someone was behind him. He slipped his hand over the hilt of his dagger and moved with a feigned casual motion, walking back toward the rear entrance of the burned-out building.
As soon as he supped through the door, he stepped sideways, reaching toward an exposed roof beam with both hands, pulling himself up with a single fluid motion. Out came the dagger and he waited.
A moment later a figure emerged from the door and glanced around. Dash waited. The cloaked figure below him took a step forward and Dash dropped to the ground, his dagger going to the lurker’s throat.
From beneath the hood, a voice said, “Going to bite me, Puppy?”
Dash spun the figure around. “Trina!”
The young woman smiled. “It’s nice to be remembered.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Put down that toothpick and I’ll tell you.”
Dash grinned. “Sorry, but I’ll bet you’re as dangerous as you are beautiful.”
The woman pouted theatrically. “You flatterer.”
Dash lost his smile. “I’ve got dead men and I want some answers. Where’s Kirby Dokins?”
“Dead,” said the women.
Dash put away his dagger.
“Am I suddenly less dangerous?”
“No,” said Dash, pulling the woman back inside the building. “But you wouldn’t have been sent to tell me the Mockers killed my snitch.”
“And?”
“That means you didn’t kill my men.”
“Very good, Puppy.”
“Who did?”
“An old acquaintance of yours thinks there’s a new gang moving into the city. Smugglers, maybe, though there doesn’t seem to be a lot of new goods in the market, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” said Dash. The woman meant there wasn’t a noticeable increase in drugs, stolen goods, or other contraband.
“Another Crawler?”
“You know your history, Puppy.”
“That’s Sheriff Puppy, to you,” said Dash.
She laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh without mockery. It was a sweet sound. She said, “We’re left alone, so if someone is planning on moving into our territory, they’re not ready to try yet.
“Our old friend said to tell you we don’t know who killed your two lads, but you should know they weren’t altar boys from the Temple of Sung. Find out who Nolan and Riggs were working for before they joined your gang and you might have a clue.”
Dash was silent, then said, “So the Upright Man thinks these two knew their killers.”
“Maybe. Or maybe they just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but either way, once the deed was done, someone wanted you to think was done it to defy your authority. That’s why they were dumped on your doorstep. Had the Mockers killed those men, they would have been dumped in the harbor.”
“Who killed Kirby?”
“We don’t know,” said Trina. “He was snooping around, being his usually pesky self, then suddenly about two hours ago, he turns up floating in the sewer.”
“Where?”
“Five Points, near the big outfall below Stinky Street.” Stinky Street was Poor Quarter’s slang for Tanners Road, where many odorous businesses had resided before the war.
Five Points was the name of a large confluence of sewers, three big ones, two small ones. Dash had never been there, but he knew where it was.
“You working Five Points?”
“We’re not up there, but don’t ask me where we’re working.”
Dash grinned in the darkness. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Not ever, Sheriff Puppy, not ever.”
Dash said, “Anything else?”
“No,” said Trina.
“Tell the old man thanks.”
Trina said, “He didn’t do it from love, Sheriff Puppy. We’re just not ready to take on the crown. But he did tell me one other thing to tell you.”
“What?”
“Don’t make threats. The day you declare war on the Mockers, take your sword to bed with you.”
Dash said, “Then tell my uncle that advice works both ways.”
“Then good night.”
“Lovely to see you again, Trina.”