Fairs' Point (36 page)

“
Only indirectly,” she said, with a quick grin.

“
Call it idle curiosity, dame.”

Her smile widened.
“What is it you want to know, then?”

“
I was wondering where the—losses—happened.”

“
An excellent question.” The book-writer paused, narrowing her eyes. “I know two women who found that it was missing here, but they’d both been all over the Fair that day, everywhere from Mama Moon’s to the practice tracks. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Eslingen smiled.
“Worth asking.” He made his way back toward the practice tracks.

There was less happening in that area now that the races were reaching their climax, just a handful of dogs getting exercise in one of the tracks. The other two were unattended, except for a boy about apprentice age stretched out asleep on top of one of the finish stations. Eslingen leaned on the fence to watch a couple of practice races, mildly amused by his own new-taught ability to pick out the dogs’ good and bad points. And his ability to spot when the boys running the lure were giving a young dog an easy time, or trying to gather an old dog’s scattered attention—

“Lieutenant?”

He turned to see a dark-eyed woman in a pointsman’s leather je
rkin, her truncheon only partly concealed by the folds of her full skirts. “Dame? Or should it be Adjunct Point?”

That was a bow drawn at a venture, but she smiled.
“Acting Adjunct, thank you.” She rested her own elbows on the fence, watching curiously as a group of boxholders argued about the placement of their dogs. “I’m guessing Rathe isn’t here.”

“
He’s not,” Eslingen said. “He’s got work enough at Dreams, and he intends to stay there. As ordered.”

“
Letting Voillemin hang himself.” Her voice was neutral, giving no hint of whether she thought it a good thing or not, and Eslingen gave her a wary glance.

“
If you like. But he’s been ordered to stay out and he’s doing just that.”

“
And you’re just here to see your dog run.”

“
It’s the only race I have a dog in,” Eslingen answered. “If you’ll pardon the metaphor.”

“
It’s a bit shaggy,” she said, “but I follow you.” She stared down the track, and Eslingen followed her gaze. The boxholders had sorted out their differences, and were loading their dogs. A moment later, one of them sprang the doors, and the dogs came pelting down the track, barking madly. They burrowed through the finish gap, a brindle bitch solidly in the lead. “As long as that’s all you’re here for, Lieutenant.”

“
I’m quite fond of dogs,” Eslingen said. The clock at Fair’s Point struck the quarter hour, and he glanced over his shoulder to confirm the time. “And on that note—Sunflower has a race coming up.”

“
But of course, Lieutenant,” she said, with perfect politeness, and started away.

Eslingen gave her a bow, and started toward the main track. He heard the faint high chime of the compass at his waist as he turned. He went still, but the sound had already disappeared; he leaned backward a little, and it sounded again, fainter this time. It was too close to race time, he needed to be at the kennels, but—he glanced over his shoulder, saw the acting adjunct point still watching him. That decided him—he didn’t dare let her think he was here on Rathe’s behalf, or he’d lose all chance to act. He scanned the buil
dings around him, trying to fix the exact spot in memory, and then focused his attention on the upcoming race.

Naimi was waiting at the kennel, Sunflower dancing in his hol
ding pen at her feet. She gave him a thoughtful look, and said, “Say hello. Get him going. But no treats!”

“
Not a bite,” Eslingen answered, displaying his empty hand, and bent over the fence. “Sunflower! Ridiculous puppy!”

“
Don’t call him names,” Naimi said.

“
Brilliant puppy! Beautiful puppy!” Eslingen said obligingly, dangling a leather strap over the edge of the pen. Sunflower leaped for it, yapping.

“
Fast puppy,” Naimi said. “All right, that’s enough.”

Eslingen whisked the strap away, and Naimi caught the dog as he leaped after it, lifting him high into the air.
“Aren’t you clever?” she exclaimed, and popped him neatly into the basket held open by her waiting boxholder. He secured it, grinning, while Sunflower gave a few more sharp barks and then settled with a heavy sigh.

“
He looks good,” Eslingen said.

Naimi waved her hand in a warding gesture.
“So-so. I’ve seen worse, but I’ve seen better, too.”

“
Not in this race, I hope,” Eslingen said

She allowed herself a crooked smile.
“Maybe not in this race.”

Eslingen followed her out into the watery sunlight, filtered through a veil of high, thin clouds. It was what he’d learned to think of as a good day for racing, warm but not too bright, with little wind to stir the dust or send strange smells through the tracks. They were neither first nor last to the track, Naimi’s usual habit of arriving inconspicuously in the middle, and Eslingen was shocked to see the size of the crowd.

“It’s the last rung of the ladder,” Naimi said, though she looked a bit wild-eyed herself. “Of course everyone wants to see who’s going to make the finals.”

“
Do you think he has a chance?” Eslingen looked at the basket in the boxholder’s hands, abruptly aware of just how much of his money was riding on four stubby legs.

“
He has a chance.” Naimi took a breath and blew it out with a sigh. “This race is harder than the final will be, I think—three favorites took a tumble in their race this morning, so the dogs that will pass through from that aren’t really the best. I doubt they stand much chance of winning, no matter who goes on from these last ones.”

There were three qualifying races left, Eslingen remembered, each the last rung of a ladder, this one and two others; the first and second place finishers in each would run in the final race tomo
rrow. “What about the two after us?”

Naimi shrugged.
“We’ll have to see who wins. There are some good dogs there. But anything can happen—the Great Hound keep my dog clear of them!”

Eslingen nodded in agreement.
“Who should I worry most about in this race?”

“
Well, of course, they’re all maidens, same as him,” Naimi said, as they moved through the crowd to the entrance to the starting area. “So there’s really only this year’s races and their stars to go on. And every dog here has won a race. But of the dogs today—”

“
Moo,” the boxholder interjected, and Eslingen gave him a look.

“
‘Moo’?”

Naimi snickered.
“His real name is Silklands Warrior. But he’s as spotted as a cow, so—Moo.” She sobered. “And there’s Ahina Ban, that’s Little Bear in one of the Silklands’ tongues, or so I’m told. You’ll have seen her, she’s the one with what looks like a dark mask across her face. They say there are bears like that in the Silklands.”

Eslingen had seen broadsheet woodcuts, of course, but never the animal itself.
“So they say…”

They had reached the entrance to the starting pen where only the trainers and their boxholders could go. Eslingen saw Naimi brace herself to face the crowd, and wanted to pat her shoulder in rea
ssurance, but thought it would do more harm than good. Instead, he worked his way down the fence, edging himself into the crowd until he had a decent view of the track. The trainers were all present, and the steward of the race collected the tokens that proved their dogs’ eligibility, a brass medallion matched to each dog. She inspected the contents of each basket, the boxholders expertly thwarting the dogs’ attempts to escape, and then nodded to her assistant. A white pennant rose to the top of the track’s flagpole, signaling that the race was ready to run. The steward gestured, her voice inaudible over the noise of the crowd and the calls for last-minute bets, directing the dogs to their boxes. Sunflower would be in box four, Eslingen noted: it had been lucky for him before. The crowd surged forward, jostling for place. Eslingen put his hand to his waist, not looking down, and slipped the compass into his waistband. There was no need to take chances with pickpockets, even if at least some of those thefts were likely to be linked more closely to the missing silver.

The dogs were all in their boxes, and the steward lifted her hand. Eslingen held his breath as her handkerchief dropped and the doors sprang open. The dogs leaped forward as though they were a single animal, feet churning the dirt.

Sunflower broke well, but the dogs were evenly matched, flying over the first two jumps in a flailing mass. At the third jump, the smallest dog had dropped back a little; at the fourth, the black and white dog, Moo, surely, and Sunflower were shoulder to shoulder with a dog with a black mark like a mask across her eyes. Eslingen clenched his fists as they came together over the final jump, just a short dash now to the finish. The masked dog was tiring, but Moo and Sunflower hit the bales almost together, and Eslingen cheered. First or second, Sunflower was in the final.

The steward called it second place—by a whisker, Naimi said, coming to collect him and escort Sunflower, safely basketed again though hardly silent, back to the start where the prizes would be given. He accepted the token that would admit Sunflower to the finals, and doffed his hat to the steward as she took the prize purse from the waiting chest.

“Do you accept it, Lieutenant, or will you turn it back?”

Accept it, Eslingen thought, but if he did that, then everyone would think he’d lost confidence in his dog. He couldn’t do that to Naimi.
“Turn it back,” he said, and the steward nodded gravely.

“
So noted. The prize money to be turned back.”

There was a cheer from the crowd, and under that cover, she said,
“I’d like a word with you, Lieutenant.”

Eslingen blinked.
“Of course.”

“
Wait there,” she said, and turned to the next owner.

Naimi tugged at his sleeve, and Eslingen turned to see her smi
ling up at him, Sunflower’s basket tucked tightly under her arm. “He did well, didn’t he? Solid all through, and never faltered at the finish. That Moo’s a big boy, but I think Sunflower’s stronger.” She stopped, shaking herself. “Will you come back to the kennel? He deserves to be made much of.”

“
The steward wants to talk to me,” Eslingen said, and she bridled.

“
What about? He ran a perfect race—”

“
She didn’t say,” Eslingen answered. “But I doubt it’s anything to do with the race. She wouldn’t have awarded the prizes if there was a question.”

“
That’s true,” Naimi said, visibly relaxing. “But you will come back? He does like you.”

“
I will,” Eslingen promised, and hoped he could keep his word.

The clock had struck the quarter hour before the steward ma
naged to extricate herself from her duties and moved to join him at the edge of the enclosure,

“
Would you rather someplace more private?” Eslingen asked, dubiously, and she shook her head.

“
Hare and Hound, no. If anyone asks, you had a question about the turn-back.”

Eslingen nodded, and she hurried on.

“Is Rathe still interested in this matter? The thefts?”

“
He’s been warned off,”Eslingen said
.
As you well know.

“
That hasn’t always stopped him,” she answered. “Is he?”