“Hell.” Locke scratched his chin and feigned distracted consideration. “Maybe someone did ask you to find him and remove him. Just not by that name, and not with that description of his skills, you know?”
“But why, of all his agents, would you and Jerome—”
“Who else is guaranteed to come back or die trying?”
“The alleged poison. Ah.”
“We have two months, maybe less.” Locke sighed. “Stragos warned us not to dally. We’re not back by then, we get to find out how skilled his personal alchemist is.”
“The service of the archon seems a complicated life, Leocanto.”
“Fucking tell me about it. I liked him much better when he was just our unknown paymaster.” Locke rolled his shoulders and felt some of his sore back muscles protest. “We leave inside the month. That’s what the day-sailing is about. We’ll slip in with the crew of an independent trader once we’ve had some training, so we don’t stand out as the land-huggers we are. No more late nights gaming for us, until we get back.”
“You expect to succeed?”
“No, but one way or another, I’m damn well coming back. Maybe Jerome can even have an ‘accident’ on the voyage. Anyhow, we’ll be storing our wardrobes at the Villa Candessa. And we’ll be leaving every centira we currently have on your ledgers right where they are. My money and Jerome’s. Hostage against my return, as it were.”
“And if you do return,” said Selendri, “you might bring back a man who can genuinely aid the archon’s design.”
“If he’s there,” said Locke, “I’ll be bringing him straight back here first. I expect you’ll want to have a frank discussion with him about the health benefits of accepting a counteroffer.”
“Assuredly,” said Requin.
“This Callas,” said Locke, letting excitement rise in his voice, “he could be our key to getting Stragos over the coals. He could be an even better turncoat than I am.”
“Why, Master Kosta,” said Selendri, “I doubt that anyone could be a more enthusiastic turncoat than you.”
“You know damn well what I’m enthusiastic about,” said Locke. “But that’s that. Stragos hasn’t told us anything else at the moment. I just wanted to get rid of those damn chairs and let you know we’d be leaving for a while. I assure you, I’ll be back. If it’s in my power at all, I’ll be back.”
“Such assurances,” mused Requin. “Such earnest assurances.”
“If I wanted to cut and run,” said Locke, “I would have done it already. Why come tell you all this first?”
“Obvious,” said Requin, smiling gently. “If this is a ploy, it could buy you a two-month head start during which I wouldn’t think to go looking for you.”
“Ah. An excellent point,” said Locke. “Except that I’d expect to start dying horribly around then, head start or no.”
“So you claim.”
“Look. I’m deceiving the archon of Tal Verrar on your behalf. I’m deceiving Jerome gods-damned de Ferra. I need allies if I’m going to get out of this shit. I don’t care if you two trust me; I have to trust you. I am showing you my hand. No bluff. Now, again, you tell me how we proceed.”
Requin casually riffled the edges of the parchment pile on his desk, then matched gazes with Locke. “I expect to hear the archon’s further plans for you immediately. No delays. Make me wonder where you are again, and I’ll have you fetched. With finality.”
“Understood.” Locke made a show of swallowing and wringing his hands together. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing him again before we leave. I’ll be here the night after any meeting, no later.”
“Good.” Requin pointed in the direction of the climbing closet. “Leave. Find this Calo Callas, if he exists, and bring him to me. But I don’t want dear Jerome slipping over a rail while you’re out at sea. Understand? Until Stragos is in hand, that privilege is mine to deny.”
“I…”
“No ‘accidents’ for Master de Ferra. You satisfy that grudge on my sufferance. That’s the bargain.”
“If you put it that way, understood, of course.”
“Stragos has his promised antidote.” Requin took up a quill and returned his attention to his parchments. “I want my own assurance of your enthusiastic return to my fair city. You want to slaughter your calf, you tend him for a few months first. Tend him very well.”
“Of…of course.”
“Selendri will show you out.”
5
“HONESTLY, IT could have gone much worse,” said Jean as he and Locke pulled at their oars the next morning. They were out in the main harbor, clipping over the gentle swells near the Merchants’ Crescent. The sun had not yet reached its noon height, but the day was already hotter than its predecessor. The two thieves were sweat-drenched.
“Sudden miserable death is indeed much worse,” said Locke. He stifled a groan; today, the exercise was troubling not only his back and shoulder but the old wounds that covered a substantial portion of his left arm. “But I think that’s the last dregs of Requin’s patience. Any more strangeness or complication…Well, hopefully, this is as odd as Stragos’ plans are going to get.”
“Can’t move the boat by flapping your mouths,” yelled Caldris.
“Unless you want to chain us to these oars and beat a drum,” said Locke, “we converse as we please. And unless you wish us to drop dead, you should consider an early lunch.”
“Oh dear! Does the splendid young gentleman not find the working life agreeable?” Caldris was sitting in the bow with his legs stretched out toward the mast. On his stomach, the kitten was curled into a dark ball of sleeping contentment. “The first mate here wants me to remind you that where we’re going, the sea don’t wait on your pleasure. You might be up twenty hours straight. You might be up forty. You might be on deck. You might be working a pump. Time comes to do what’s necessary, you’ll fucking well do it, and you’ll do it until you drop. So we’re gonna row, every day, until your expectations are right where they should be. And today we’re gonna take a late lunch, not an early one. Hard a-larboard!”