“Because they just don’t give a damn,” said Locke.
“Wrong,” said Stragos. “Because it’s so necessary to so many things. It would be like trying to deny us the right to water, or fire. It would push us too far. No matter the cost, no matter the carnage, it would force us to fight back against them for the sake of our very existence. And they know it. Their power has limits. Someday, we’ll surpass those limits, if we’re only given a chance.”
“That’s a fine bedtime story,” said Locke. “If you wrote a book on that subject, I’d pay for ten copies to be scribed. But here and now, you’re interfering with our lives. You’re tearing us away from something we’ve worked long and hard to achieve.”
“I am prepared to expand on my earlier terms,” said Stragos, “and offer a financial reward for the successful completion of your task.”
“How much?” said Locke and Jean simultaneously.
“No promises,” said Stragos. “Your reward will be proportional to your achievement. I shall make you as happy as you make me. Is that understood?”
Locke stared at Stragos for several seconds, scratching his neck. Stragos was using a confidence trick—an appeal to high ideals, followed by an appeal to greed. And this was a classic fuck-the-agent situation; Stragos had no compulsion whatsoever to follow through on his promise, and nothing to lose by making it, and no reason at all to let him and Jean live once their task was finished. He made eye contact with Jean and stroked his chin several times, a simple hand signal:
Lying. Jean sighed, and tapped his fingers a few times against the gunwale on his side of the boat. He seemed to share Locke’s thought that elaborate signals would best be avoided with Stragos just a few feet away. His answer was equally simple:
Agreed.
“That’s good news,” said Locke, conjuring a note of guarded optimism in his voice. The knowledge that he and Jean were of one mind always gave him renewed energy for false-facing. “A pile of solari when this is all over would go a long way toward mitigating our distaste for the circumstances of our employment.”
“Good. My sole concern is that the mission may benefit from more enthusiasm on your part.”
“This mission, to be frank, is going to need all the help it can get.”
“Don’t dwell on the matter, Lamora. And look out behind—we’re coming to the far side of my little glen.”
The boat was sliding toward another curtain-barrier of hanging canvas; by Locke’s casual estimate, the entire artificial garden enclosure must have been about eighty yards long.
“Say farewell to the sun,” said the archon, and then they were slipping through the canvas, back out into the muggy black-and-silver night, with its flitting lantern-flies and genuine forest perfume. A guard dog barked nearby, growled, and went silent in response to a hushed command. Locke rubbed his eyes as they slowly adjusted once again to the darkness.
“You’ll begin training this week,” said Stragos.
“What do you mean, training? There’s a pile of questions you haven’t answered,” said Locke. “Where’s our ship? Where’s our crew? How do we make ourselves known as pirates? There’s a thousand damn details to go over….”
“All in good time,” said Stragos. His voice had an air of unmistakable satisfaction now that Locke was speaking constructively of carrying out his plan. “I’m told you two frequently take meals at the Gilded Cloister. Spend a few days returning to a schedule of rising with the sun. On Throne’s Day, have breakfast at the Cloister. Wait for Merrain to find you. She’ll see you to your destination with her usual discretion, and you’ll begin your lessons. They’ll take up most of your days, so don’t make any plans.”
“Damn it,” said Jean, “why not let us finish our affair with Requin? It won’t take more than a few weeks. Then we can do whatever you like, without distraction.”
“I’ve thought about it,” said Stragos, “but no. Postpone it. I want you to have something to look forward to after you complete my mission. And I don’t have a few weeks to wait. I need you at sea in a month. Six weeks at the very latest.”
“A month to go from gratefully ignorant landlubbers to fucking professional pirates?” said Jean. “Gods.”
“It will be a busy month,” said Stragos.
Locke groaned.
“Are you up for the task? Or shall I simply deny you your antidote and give you a prison cell from which to observe the results?”
“Just see to it that that fucking antidote is ready and waiting each time we come back,” said Locke. “And give a serious ponder to just how much money would best send us away happy when this affair is concluded. I’m guessing that you’re likely to be the underestimating type in that regard, so I’d think big.”
“Rewards proportional to results, Lamora. That and your lives. When the red flag is seen again in my city’s waters, and the Priori are begging me to save them, you may turn your thoughts to the matter of reward. Then and no sooner. Understood?”
Lying, Locke signaled to Jean, sure it was unnecessary but equally sure Jean would appreciate a bit of cheek. “Your will then, I suppose. If the gods are kind we’ll poke a stick into whatever hornets’ nest is left to be stirred up down in the Ghostwinds. After all, we have no choice, do we?”
“As it should be,” said Stragos.
“You know, Locke,” said Jean in a lightly conversational tone of voice, “I like to imagine that there are thieves out there who only ever get caught up in perfectly ordinary, uncomplicated escapades. We should consider finding some and asking them what their secret is, one of these days.”
“It’s probably as simple as staying the hell away from assholes like this,” said Locke, gesturing at the archon.
4
A SQUAD of Eyes was waiting beside the boathouse when the little craft completed its circuit of the artificial river.
“Here,” said Stragos after one of his soldiers took the oar from him. He removed two glass vials from his pockets and held one out to each Camorri thief. “Your first stay of execution. The poison’s had time to work its way into you. I don’t want to have to worry about you for the next few weeks.”
Locke and Jean complied, each gagging as they drank. “Tastes like chalk,” said Locke, wiping his mouth.
“If only it were that inexpensive,” said the archon. “Now give the vials back. Caps, too.”
Locke sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope you’d forget that part.”
The two thieves were being hauled back toward the Mon Magisteria as Stragos lashed the boat to the piling once again.
Stragos stood up, stretched, and felt the old familiar creaks, the twinges in his hips and knees and wrists. Damn rheumatism…by rights he was still outrunning his age, still ahead of most men nearing threescore years, but he knew deep in his heart that there would never be any way of running fast enough. Sooner or later, the Lady of the Long Silence would call a dance for Maxilan Stragos, whether or not his work here was done.
Merrain was waiting in the shadows of the unlit side of the boathouse, still and quiet as a hunting spider until she stepped out beside him. Long practice enabled him to avoid flinching.
“My thanks for saving those two, Merrain. You’ve been very useful to me, these past few weeks.”
“Just as I was instructed to be,” she said. “But are you sure they really suit the needs of this plan of yours?”
“They’re at every disadvantage in this city, my dear.” Stragos squinted at the blurry forms of Locke, Jean, and their escorts as they disappeared into the garden. “The Bondsmagi sewed them up for us, and we have them second-guessing their every step. I don’t believe those two are used to being controlled. Out on their own, I know they’ll perform as required.”
“Your reports give you that much confidence?”
“Not merely my reports,” said Stragos. “Requin certainly hasn’t killed them yet, has he?”
“I suppose not.”
“They’ll serve,” said Stragos. “I know their hearts. As the days go by, the resentment will fade and the novelty will gain on them. They’ll be enjoying themselves soon enough. And when they start to enjoy themselves…I honestly think they can do it. If they live. It’s for damn sure I’ve no other agents suitable to the task.”
“Then I may report to my masters that the plan is under way?”
“Yes, I suppose this commits us. You may do just that.” Stragos eyed the shadowed shape of the slender woman beside him and sighed. “Let them know that everything begins in a month or so. I hope for their sake they’re ready for the consequences.”
“Nobody’s ready for the consequences,” said Merrain. “It’s going to mean more blood than anyone’s seen in two hundred years. All we can do is hope that by setting things off we can ensure that others reap most of the trouble. By your leave, Archon, I’d like to go compose my messages to them now.”
“Of course,” said Stragos. “Send my regards along with your report, and my prayers that we might continue to prosper…together.”