Authors: Tamora Pierce
"Did you see that hussy! Walkin' in here, bold as brass, wiv pearl teeth bought with honest folk's blood!"
I agreed with that, but I was trying to hear the mot who'd complained of coles.
" – can't deal only in coppers! I'd need a servant to carry my master's coin for the shopping!"
The mot in front of me said, "The problem's not that bad, surely?"
The woman who stood two places ahead in the line turned to face her. It must have been her who spoke of coles and of her master. "Are you deaf – or blind? How much of your silver have you cut?"
"You'll frighten folk, talking wild-like of such things," the mot in front of me replied. "I'm a businesswoman. I can't afford such talk, not with prices on the climb."
The mot who kept house for a rich man propped her hands on her hips. "Do you check your coins, mistress?
Do
you?"
A woman coming out of the privy tapped her on the shoulder. "Stop jawin' and go about yer business," she said. "The line gets longer whilst you whistle up a fuss."
"Aye," called another mot. A second yelled from farther back, "We'll miss the magic!"
They nearabout shoved the mot who'd talked her alarm into the privy. Things were just settling when three more mots came out. I could enter at last. Sitting in my own stall, I could hear my neighbors' whispers still.
" – bad for business!"
"And silver coles aren't?"
"There's
always
coles."
"Take 'em to the silver bank or the gold, pay your fee, and get true coin. You'll also get writ down in the book, so it's recorded you've turned in coles, not tried to pass 'em off."
I dared raise my voice, since none of them would know who spoke. "What about goin' to yer kennel, then?" I tried to speak halfway between the Lower City and Provost's House, like these tradesfolk would talk. "Lettin' yer Dogs know?"
There was a space of quiet. I wondered if I'd startled them into flight, like a flock of pigeons.
"Ye're new, is it?" someone asked.
"Or cracked in the nob," another mot said. "As if they listen to the likes of us, unless we come with gold in our hands."
I tried again. "All right, then. What about your Rogue?" I heard naught. Finally I added, "Come on! The Court o' the Rogue lives on coin like the rest of us. They're just as hurt by silver coles as anyone!"
Someone gave a laugh like broken glass. It echoed in the stone privy.
Another mot said, "No one wise will rouse the Rogue, whatever the cause. She'll skin you."
"Who's to say this Rogue don't have her hand in it?" a new mot asked. "And if she does – "
"Cork it!" someone whispered. "We don't know from the Rogue's business, and we mean to keep it that way!"
The air filled with the whispers of women saying, "So mote it be."
I finished my business quickly. At the back of the stall was a gap between stone wall and roof, more than big enough for a skinny mot to crawl through. Before any of them thought to look for the one with all the questions, I kilted my skirt in my belt, hoisted myself to the top of the wall, and dropped down the other side. There I perched on the edge of the privy's stone floor where it stuck out beyond the wall. Below were the openings to the privy pits, where the muck handlers could reach in and dump out the barrels. Breathing through my mouth because of the stink, I walked carefully down the floor's edge until I reached the bushes. There I untucked my skirt and shook it out. All proper again, I could sneak away, hid by the greenery.
I eyed those still waiting in line as I went. No one seemed to be watching the privy door or the mots who came out of it. With a prayer to Mithros that I'd been careful enough, I found a different entrance to the eating house from the one I had used to come outside, and walked in that way.
The door I chose was tucked behind a long, carved screen that also hid the covered passage to the kitchens. It was only dimly lit. The servers could then see if anyone stood in their way before they came out into the eating house with their trays. At the same time no one would be able to see anyone behind the screen. I stayed there and watched the small group tucked under the rise of the stair inside. Pearl stood sideways to me, arms crossed over her gold and scarlet silk dress. Jupp stood with her, and Jurji. Hanse and Steen finished their little group. What were they doing hiding out with her? They watched the kitchen entry and the screen, their eyes darting over everyone who passed as Hanse talked softly to Pearl.
" – tell you, you're costin' me money, aye, and a good client on this! They never hire twice if you drop a job once!"
Curse it, I
couldn't
hear Pearl.
Hanse listened to her, then scratched his head. "Right. I fergot," he said. "We'll go. But don't you think – "
He stopped himself as Pearl thrust a ringed finger in his face and shook it under his nose. I could nearabout hear she was telling him, "I do the thinkin'," but it isn't my job to make up what Rats say.
Hanse and Steen made their bows to Pearl and went around to take the stairs up to the second floor again. I stepped back, deeper into the shadows. Pearl and her guards turned, looking to see if anyone had come near enough to spy. Servers emerged from the kitchen passage in a clump, laden with platters of food. I went back outside and walked around to the rear entrance, just in case.
Where is Hanse going for Pearl? It's a long enough trip, or it requires enough guards, that he has to cancel a job for one of his regular employers. I can't just decide it's got to do with cole-mongering, either. I'm sure the Rogue has her finger in all manner of puddings, just as Rosto has back home.
I returned to Dale, who sat at our table, finishing a cup of wine. Everyone else had gone to the balcony. He looked at me and frowned. "I thought you'd run off."
I sat beside him. "Delicate errands take time. And I was ducking Pearl. She was all over the downstairs."
"Pearl can swive herself." Dale slipped an arm around me and pulled me closer. I looked quickly around. No one was nearby to see us. Dale went on, "I need to give you reason to come straight back to me." He kissed so sweetly, his arms just strong enough as he drew me tight to his chest. His tongue slid gentle into my mouth as I wrapped my hands around the back of his head, feeling his silky hair against my fingers.
When we stopped to breathe, I managed to say, "As reasons go, that's well enough."
Dale chuckled and bent his head to kiss the side of my neck. I gasped and dug my nails into the back of his tunic.
Then the first firework exploded, making us both jump. Laughing, Dale pulled me to my feet. We straightened our clothes and went out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks, his arm about my shoulders. The fireworks were very nice, too, what I noticed. Someone mentioned a piece like a flock of winged horses flying over the harbor, all made of brilliant white fire. I believe we were inside for that one, in a corner with our mouths locked together.
I am sommat sorry I missed that part of the fireworks.
Once the mages' display was over, our company returned to the Waterlily to gamble. Tonight Dale started with dice. I blew on them each time he rolled, as a gambler's luck should, and he did win often. The dice were fair, too. The Waterlily keeps a mage at each table to check that the dice are not false. Dale changed tables now and then, too. "To keep my luck fresh," he told me.
He and Hanse always played together. They've been doing so for years, Steen told me as we watched. Again I had that nasty twinge of suspicion low in my belly, where so many other things had been twinging all along. Dale did work for the Goldsmith's Bank. He went nearly everywhere with a sealed pouch that Dogs wouldn't search because it was Goldsmith property.
I dare not let my feelings blind me, not when the colesmithing problem grows worse at an alarming rate. I like him so much, and yet who better to be part of a ring of colemongers? A clever man, too clever for the work he does, a gambler who plays up and down the river. A trusted courier for the Goldsmith's Bank. Known in the Court of the Rogue, and his friends Hanse and Steen have business with the Rogue herself.
Still, Dale isn't the Rogue. There's that to be said for him, unlike the other cove who chases me.
I wonder if Ersken ever has such trouble. He's bedded Kora for over a year, knowing she's the left hand of Corus's Rogue. Still, is it the same? Kora won't talk Rosto's business with Ersken. Ersken won't talk Dog business with Kora. They read books. They go to fairs and musical entertainments, and they have plenty of friends in common, so they have much to talk on. And Rosto has never set in play any sort of ploy that would pull the country down around all of our ears.
I have no proof against Dale. I will keep my eyes and my mind open, that's all.
Dale said that I could relax whilst he switched to a game of backgammon with a deep-pocketed merchant, so I was at my leisure to wander about the Waterlily. I listened to Okha sing for a time and watched Goodwin, Hanse, and Flory play Gambler's Chance with some young nobles who had more gold than sense. Goodwin lost as much as she won, but seeing her small moves of the eye and mouth, tip-offs I knew so well, I realized she lost some of those hands of cards on purpose. She always amazes me. Here was a game she'd learned only yesterday, yet she could have won a nice sum at it tonight, had she chosen to.
I looked at players' coins as I roamed. Much of the silver was marked. Had the colemonger started this way, trading bad silver for good at the gambling tables? If so, was he – or she – mad, to be dumping so many coles into the city now? More folk every day were learning the silver was no good here. How could the colemonger make a profit from trading bad for good now, when folk would test silver coin or just refuse it outright? Unless he'd already made his fortune, or he was stupid, or he was out-and-out mad. That didn't even count the chance that the colemonger was a foreigner, bent on weakening our money so that our folk would turn on each other during the winter, leaving the country open in the spring.
If I thought longer like this, I knew I would get the shakes. I went to hear Okha sing again. When he was done, I returned to Dale and tortured him by drawing my fingers down the backs of his ears and his neck.
I was yawning when he won his game with the merchant and collected his winnings. Turning in his chair, he lifted my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. "You need to work less during the day," he said as he sneaked an arm about my waist. "You don't have enough wakefulness for the night." Together we went in search of our friends.
Hanse saw us. He put down his cards with a nod to Steen. When they stood up, Goodwin and Flory did the same, to the protests of the other cardplayers. "It's time to call the night down," Hanse said with a yawn of his own. "We're off to Arenaver in the mornin' on a short trip."
To Amda and two of the other caravaners who were coming to join us, this was plainly news.
"But, Boss, I thought we had that Legann trip day after tomorrow," Amda said.
"This Arenaver thing is more important," Hanse said. "I sent a note to Master Dendall earlier that he'll need to find someone else for the Legann job."
One of the coves whistled. "He'll not like that."
Steen waved off his words. "I'm tired of workin' fer that ol' pinchcoin anyway. He argues over every copper we spend keepin' 'im from bein' robbed blind. You want that job, Kevern?"
The man Kevern grimaced. "He's a cheap piece of moldy cheese, he is." We ambled toward the room where the men could reclaim their weapons, the caravan guards talking over their various quibbles with the merchant.
Dale and I traded kisses in the shadows all the way back to my lodgings. Once we reached Serenity's house, Goodwin went inside while Dale and I found a dark spot just on the side of the house.
"Dream of me," he said, and kissed me so long I nearabout forgot what he'd said.
But not quite. "You don't want to be in my dreams," I said when we halted. "The only ones I remember are the bad ones."
"Maybe you'll remember mine," he replied, lifting me up a little in his arms. He didn't lift my skirts – I'd never let him – but I hoped I'd remember dreams of him when he set me down, for they'd be the best dreams of my life.
He said farewell and waited until the maid let me into the house.
Goodwin had waited for me at the foot of the stairs. "We'll talk about the night's gatherings tomorrow," Goodwin said, her voice very dry. "Write up anything you fear you'll forget. I've had a bit much wine, and I think your head's elsewhere."
"I won't forget anything," I told her. I was hurt that she'd think I was too giddy to remember what I needed to for my work.
Goodwin smiled and ruffled my hair. "No. No, I don't suppose you would. But I'm worn out, and I wasn't chasing a scent hound today. We'll take it all apart for our reports in the morning."
That was better. I went outside through the silent kitchen, taking care to wait and listen until I was certain the yard was empty. Achoo also waited, bouncing to her feet only when my hand was on her collar and I was untying the rope. Once free, the silly creature frisked around me, then stood on her hind feet. I danced the hound along for a few steps before I let her go and took her inside. I collected the bowl I'd left for her in the cold pantry, and gave it to her once we were in my rooms. While she ate, I undressed. The glitter of my new bracelet caught my eye. It made an odd picture, sitting below the arm sheaths of my daggers, but it is so very pretty and so very elegant. I put it away carefully, then removed my weapons. At last, wearing my nightgown, I wrote up this night in cipher. Now it is time to sleep.
Will I bed Dale? Should I? Surely what is between us cannot last. The hunt will take Goodwin and me away from Port Caynn, or we will finish it, and I will have to return to Corus. It wouldn't be practical, not a bit.
I think I should stop at a healer's in the morning and purchase a new charm to prevent babies. It's been so long since I needed one, I don't even remember where the last one went.