Dash stood up and they went to a relatively uncrowded corner of the basement, between stacks of crates. “How much time?” asked Dash.
“A few days, maybe less. When he was recovering from his burns the priest said only a great wish or the gift of a God would save him. He’s known this day was coming since then.”
Dash looked at this odd woman who had come to captivate his attention. “How many of you are left?”
She started to make a quip, then said, “I don’t know. There are maybe another two hundred scattered through the city. Why?”
“Pass the word; we can use every sword we can find. The Keshians will sell you all into slavery, you know that.”
“If they can find us,” said Trina.
“If they take the city and hold it more than a week, they’ll find you.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, anyone who shows up with a sword and fights, I’ll see they’re pardoned for their crimes.”
“Guaranteed?” she asked.
“You have my word on it.”
“I’ll pass the word,” she said.
“I’ve got more pressing matters now. The Keshians have given us until dawn tomorrow to surrender, else they’ll attack. We assume that means they’re going to try to open one of the gates between now and then.”
“And you want us to watch the gates and let you know?”
“Something like that.” He stepped closer to her, looking deep into her eyes. “You’ve got to slow them down.”
She laughed. “You mean defend the gates until you get there.”
He smiled. “Something like that,” he repeated.
“I can’t ask my brothers and sisters to do that. We’re not warriors. Sure, we have some bashers among the Mockers, but most of us don’t know which end of a sword is which.”
“Then you better learn,” said Dash.
“I can’t ask them.”
“No, but you can order them,” said Dash slowly.
She said nothing.
Dash said, “I know the old man has been unable to run things for a while. I’ll bet my inheritance you’re the current Day master.”
She remained silent.
“I won’t ask anything from you without fair trade.”
“What do you propose?”
“Hold the gate, whichever they attack. Defend it until I can get a flying company there, and I will pardon everyone.”
“A general amnesty?”
“The same deal I made originally with the old man.”
“Not enough.”
“What more do you want?” asked Dash.
She pointed around the room. “Do you know how we came to be, the Mockers of Krondor?”
Dash said, “I’ve heard stories since I was a boy from my grandfather about the Mockers.”
“But did he ever tell you how the guild came to be?”
“No,” Dash admitted.
“The first leader of the guild was called the Square Man. He was a fence who settled disputes between different gangs in the city. We were killing ourselves more than the citizens. We were stealing from one another as much as from the citizens. And we were getting hung for it.
“The Square Man fixed that. He started making truces between gangs and getting things organized.
“He made a place for us called Mother’s and he paid bribes and bought some of us out of jail and off the gallows.
“The Upright Man took over before your grandfather was born. He consolidated the Square Man’s power and made the guild the place it was when Jimmy the Hand was running roofs.
“A few of us enjoy the dodgy path, Dash. Some of us like breaking heads and there’s no excuse for us. But most of us just got dealt a bad hand. Most of us have nowhere else to go.”
Dash looked around the cellar. Men and women of all ages gathered there, and Dash remembered the stories his grandfather had told him of the beggar gangs, the urchins running the streets, the girls working the taverns, and the rest of them.
“If we get amnesty, we’re back on the streets the next day, and most of us are breaking laws and we’re right back where we started. There was only one Jimmy the Hand who had a prince reach down and raise him up to the heights.”
Trina gripped Dash’s arm. She said, “Don’t you see? If your grandfather hadn’t saved the Prince that one night long ago, he would have lived out his life with these people. It might have been him lying on that bed over there instead of his brother. And you might be over there with the other young men, thinking of how to survive the coming war, find a meal, and keep out of the Sheriff’s clutches instead of being the Sheriff.
“You’re only a noble by a quirk of fate, Dash.”
She looked into his eyes, then she kissed him, long and hard. “You’ve got to make a promise, Dash. Make a promise and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“What is the promise?”
“You’ve got to save them. All of them.”
“Save them?”
“You’ve got to see they are fed and clothed and warm and dry, and out of harm’s way.”