a waste of her time training you these past three years.’
‘Not entirely,’ Wren agreed. ‘What else did she say?’
‘I guess if she’d wanted you to hear, she’d have told you herself.’
Wren nodded, slow and serious, as if this last touch was worth holding on to. My tobacco pouch was on the table, and he reached over and started to roll up a cigarette. His movements were sharp and neat. ‘And what did Uriel say?’
I was halfway to answering before I stopped myself.
Wren winked, and handed over the smoke. ‘You’re not the only one keeping their eyes open.’
I lit it, smoked it, and coughed for a while. ‘But I’m the only one who seems to stay quiet on what I see, which is half of everything.’
‘Doesn’t seem likely, the Unredeemed continuing to grow unchecked.’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
‘The Gitts never struck me as the amicable sort.’
‘I see you’ve been giving some thought to this.’
‘So what are we going to do about it?’
‘I’m going to do nothing about it, and you’re going to do less.’
‘Glandon is pretty close to Low Town.’
‘Isn’t exactly Nestria.’
‘Can’t be good for business, dead men piling up on our borders.’
‘I don’t imagine it would make my life any easier.’
I went to take a sip of my drink, and discovered that Wren had his hand on my wrist. ‘I’m not a child,’ he said, suddenly very serious.
‘That’s the kind of thing children say.’
Wren rolled his eyes but didn’t get hot, an admirable equanimity which suggested he might not be lying about his new-found maturity. He was also kind enough to release his grip, and allow me to get back to my liquor.
‘What’s your point?’ I asked after I’d finished off most of my glass.
‘I’ve carried my share of water.’
‘You want a raise? I can double your current salary of zero.’
‘I want you to give me something real to do – I want a stake in the enterprise.’
I waved at the assorted drunks. ‘You’re asking me to share all this?’
‘It’s time you let me in. I know Low Town as well as you do, I can handle a blade and I’ve got fast hands. Everyone likes me, even our competitors, which is more than anyone would ever say about you.’
‘Now you’re just being hurtful.’
‘And I’ve got other talents.’ It was about then I noticed his hand beneath the table, pulsing with a low blue light.
‘Stop that,’ I hissed.
His eyes bored into mine, and it was a long second before the glow faded. ‘I’m just saying – I could be of more use than you’re allowing.’
I finished my cigarette, ran some things over in my head.
‘You know Kitterin Mayfair, slings breath east of the docks?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘He know you?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘No, or not really?’
‘No.’
I pulled the wooden box out from my satchel and handed it over. ‘Run this out to him. Tell him it’s a gift from a new friend, hoping to become an old one.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a box you’re going to run over to Kitterin Mayfair, who slings breath east of the docks.’
When I’d met the boy he’d run on savage pride – anything that smacked of insult was repaid twice over. It made having a conversation difficult, given my predilection for causing offense. But he’d run down a bit in the last six years, certain enough in himself to not need to be reminded every moment of the day. ‘I’m worth more to you than as an errand boy,’ he said. He kept his eyes on me for a tick, steady but not angry, then paced out into the night.
I went back to drinking. It was something I’d had good practice at. After a couple of minutes Alain shook off, his pair of drinking buddies joining him. Wren was right, I’d lost the Earl a customer – but then the Earl isn’t really how I make my money anyway.
The evening passed, and I followed along with it. Closing time rolled around, and Adolphus slipped out from behind the bar and started brushing out
‘Not entirely,’ Wren agreed. ‘What else did she say?’
‘I guess if she’d wanted you to hear, she’d have told you herself.’
Wren nodded, slow and serious, as if this last touch was worth holding on to. My tobacco pouch was on the table, and he reached over and started to roll up a cigarette. His movements were sharp and neat. ‘And what did Uriel say?’
I was halfway to answering before I stopped myself.
Wren winked, and handed over the smoke. ‘You’re not the only one keeping their eyes open.’
I lit it, smoked it, and coughed for a while. ‘But I’m the only one who seems to stay quiet on what I see, which is half of everything.’
‘Doesn’t seem likely, the Unredeemed continuing to grow unchecked.’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
‘The Gitts never struck me as the amicable sort.’
‘I see you’ve been giving some thought to this.’
‘So what are we going to do about it?’
‘I’m going to do nothing about it, and you’re going to do less.’
‘Glandon is pretty close to Low Town.’
‘Isn’t exactly Nestria.’
‘Can’t be good for business, dead men piling up on our borders.’
‘I don’t imagine it would make my life any easier.’
I went to take a sip of my drink, and discovered that Wren had his hand on my wrist. ‘I’m not a child,’ he said, suddenly very serious.
‘That’s the kind of thing children say.’
Wren rolled his eyes but didn’t get hot, an admirable equanimity which suggested he might not be lying about his new-found maturity. He was also kind enough to release his grip, and allow me to get back to my liquor.
‘What’s your point?’ I asked after I’d finished off most of my glass.
‘I’ve carried my share of water.’
‘You want a raise? I can double your current salary of zero.’
‘I want you to give me something real to do – I want a stake in the enterprise.’
I waved at the assorted drunks. ‘You’re asking me to share all this?’
‘It’s time you let me in. I know Low Town as well as you do, I can handle a blade and I’ve got fast hands. Everyone likes me, even our competitors, which is more than anyone would ever say about you.’
‘Now you’re just being hurtful.’
‘And I’ve got other talents.’ It was about then I noticed his hand beneath the table, pulsing with a low blue light.
‘Stop that,’ I hissed.
His eyes bored into mine, and it was a long second before the glow faded. ‘I’m just saying – I could be of more use than you’re allowing.’
I finished my cigarette, ran some things over in my head.
‘You know Kitterin Mayfair, slings breath east of the docks?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘He know you?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘No, or not really?’
‘No.’
I pulled the wooden box out from my satchel and handed it over. ‘Run this out to him. Tell him it’s a gift from a new friend, hoping to become an old one.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a box you’re going to run over to Kitterin Mayfair, who slings breath east of the docks.’
When I’d met the boy he’d run on savage pride – anything that smacked of insult was repaid twice over. It made having a conversation difficult, given my predilection for causing offense. But he’d run down a bit in the last six years, certain enough in himself to not need to be reminded every moment of the day. ‘I’m worth more to you than as an errand boy,’ he said. He kept his eyes on me for a tick, steady but not angry, then paced out into the night.
I went back to drinking. It was something I’d had good practice at. After a couple of minutes Alain shook off, his pair of drinking buddies joining him. Wren was right, I’d lost the Earl a customer – but then the Earl isn’t really how I make my money anyway.
The evening passed, and I followed along with it. Closing time rolled around, and Adolphus slipped out from behind the bar and started brushing out
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