4
THE NEXT night was clear and dry; all the moons were up, shining like sovereigns in the blackness with the stars for their court. Jean Tannen sat beneath one parapet wall on the temple roof, a book held out before him at arm’s length. Two oil lamps in glass boxes sat beside him, outlining him in warm yellow light.
“I don’t mean to bother you,” said Locke, and Jean looked up, startled.
“Gods! You’re quiet.”
“Not all the time.” Locke stepped to within a few feet of the larger boy.
“I can be very loud, when I’m being stupid.”
“I…um…”
“Can I sit?”
Jean nodded, and Locke plopped down beside him. He folded his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees.
“I am sorry,” said Locke. “I guess I really can be a shit sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean…When I hit you, it just…I’m not myself. When I’m angry.”
“You did right. I didn’t know, about your mother and your father. I’m sorry. I should…I shouldn’t have presumed. I’ve had a long time…to get used to it, you know.”
The two boys said nothing for a few moments after that; Jean closed his book and stared up at the sky.
“You know, I might not even be one after all,” Locke said. “A real orphan, I mean.”
“How so?”
“Well, my…my mother’s dead. I saw that. I know that. But my father…he, um. He went away when I was very little. I don’t remember him; never knew him.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jean.
“We’re both sorry a lot, aren’t we? I think he might have been a sailor or something. Maybe a mercenary, you know? Mother never wanted to talk about him. I don’t know. I could be wrong.”
“My father was a good man,” said Jean. “He was…They both had a shop in North Corner. They shipped leathers and silks and some gems. All over the Iron Sea, some trips inland. I helped them. Not shipping, of course, but record-keeping. Counting. And I took care of the cats. We had nine. Mama used to say…she used to say that I was her only child who didn’t go about…on all fours.”
He sniffled a bit and wiped his eyes. “I seem to have used up all my tears,” he said. “I don’t know what to feel about all this anymore. My parents taught me to be honest, that the laws and the gods abhor thieving. But now I find out thieving has its very own god. And I can either starve on the street or be comfortable here.”
“It’s not so bad,” said Locke. “I’ve never done anything else, as long as I can remember. Thieving is an honest trade, when you look at it like we do. We can work really hard at it, sometimes.” Locke reached inside his tunic and brought out a soft cloth bag. “Here,” he said, handing it over to Jean.
“What…what’s this?”
“You said you needed optics.” Locke smiled. “There’s a lens-grinder over in the Videnza who’s older than the gods. He doesn’t watch his shop window like he ought to. I lifted some pairs for you.”
Jean shook the bag open and found himself looking down at three pairs of optics; there were two circular sets of lenses in gilt wire frames, and a square set with silver rims.
“I…thank you, Locke!” He held each pair up to his eyes and squinted through them in turn, frowning slightly. “I don’t…quite know…um, I’m not ungrateful, not at all, but none of these will work.” He pointed at his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Lenses need to be made for the wearer’s problem. There’s some for people who can’t see long ways, and I think that’s what these pairs are for. But I’m what they call close-blind, not far-blind.”
“Oh. Damn.” Locke scratched the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “I don’t wear them; I didn’t know. I really am an idiot.”
“Not at all. I can keep the rims and do something with them, maybe. Rims break. I can just set proper lenses in them. They’ll be spares. Thank you again.”
The boys sat in silence for a short while after that, but this time it was a companionable silence. Jean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Locke stared up at the moons, straining to see the little blue and green specks Chains had once told him were the forests of the gods. Eventually, Jean cleared his throat.
“So you’re really good at…stealing things?”
“I have to be good at something. It’s not fighting and it’s not mathematics, I guess.”
“You, um…Father Chains told me about this thing you can do, if you pray to the Benefactor. He called it a death-offering. Do you know about that?”
“Oh,” said Locke, “I know all about it, truth of all thirteen gods, cross my heart and pray to die.”
“I’d like to do that. For my mother and my father. But I…I’ve never stolen anything. Can you maybe help me?”
“Teach you how to steal so you can do a proper offering?”
“Yes.” Jean sighed. “I guess if this is where the gods have put me I should bend to local custom.”
“Can you teach me how to use a numbers-box so I look less like a half-wit next time?”
“I think so,” said Jean.
“Then it’s settled!” Locke jumped back up to his feet and spread his hands wide. “Tomorrow, Calo and Galdo can plant their asses on the temple steps. You and I will go out and plunder!”
“That sounds dangerous,” said Jean.
“For anyone else, maybe. For Gentlemen Bastards, well, it’s just what we do.”
“We?”
“We.”