Thief's War: A Knight and Rogue Novel (26 page)

There was nothing else for me to do—it was up to Michael now.

Except for one thing. The job of getting Jack out of the noose was mine alone.

Michael would have said that I owed Jack nothing, and he was right. But there were too many bright memories mixed with the bad, too much he’d taught me. For better or for worse, Jack had made me the man I am, every bit as much as Michael had.

I owed Jack nothing…I also owed him everything.

The guard who escorted me to Roseman’s office was agitated, which I took to be a good sign.

I hadn’t been in that house since the night I was captured, and I’d never seen this room. There was nothing extraordinary about it—except that a man richer than my father ever dreamed of being had an office that looked less rich. And my father isn’t an ostentatious man.

If the Rose was subsidizing the sale of cheap food for this entire vast city, ’twas a wonder he wasn’t in rags.

Neither Jack nor Wiederman was in attendance, which I took as a further sign that Fisk’s plan to create chaos was working.

Unfortunately, Fisk wasn’t there either.

“Where’s Fisk?” I asked, before Roseman could speak.

“You should be worried about that. If you’d been gone a few more hours, your friend might not be anywhere at all. Ever.”

I had turned my collar so that the stone showed when I approached the house. Now I looked at the window behind the desk—even with the sun shining outside, I saw a faint reflection of its golden glow.

But his threats made the weight in my pocket feel a bit lighter.

“I had to go alone,” I said. “I was following a lead. I’ve found the apothecary who sold the drug the children gave your rider.”

“Does that help us find them?” Roseman was already reaching for a pile of papers on one side of his desk. Some of them bore Fisk’s writing. “I’ll send someone to follow up, later, but right now I’ve got—”

“Later won’t work,” I said. “He’s too frightened. And you can’t send someone else, because he’ll only talk to you.”

Anger dawned in Roseman’s face, but his voice was still mild. “Why should I waste my time talking to some—”

“He says he sold the drugs to someone he’s seen with you,” I said. “He thought the man was in your employ, though he’s not sure of that. The man didn’t give his name, but the apothecary says if you come in to him, he can describe his customer. And he’s afraid, because what if the man you send—”

“Is the man who bought the drugs.” Roseman’s fist clenched on a piece of paper, crumpling it. “Do you know what happened here this morning?”

Knowing what Fisk had intended, I could make a fair guess.

“No. How could I? I’ve been talking to apothecaries.”

“No one talked to him, boss,” the guard who’d brought me there put in. “We didn’t even tell him, when he asked where Fisk was.”

“Where is Fisk?” I let my voice grow sharper. “What’s going on?”

“Fisk is in a cell,” said Roseman. “With a lot of guards keeping an eye on him. Markham and Wiederman, too. I don’t trust anybody. I especially don’t trust you.”

I shrugged. “The apothecary won’t talk to anyone but you. He doesn’t want to end up “silenced.” He wants you to come with me, alone. I was thinking that if you recognize the description, the man he saw might lead us to the children. But if you don’t care enough to spend a few hours pursuing it, that’s fine with me.”

The shrewd eyes, so unexpected in that broad face, went to the stack of papers.

“If the answer was there, I’d know it already.” He turned to one of the four guards who’d taken up stations around the room. “Who hired you to work for me?”

“Well, I’m under Captain Jonat, who negotiated the contract for all his men,” the guard said uneasily. “But it was Wiederman who recruited us. I think Wiederman hired all us guards. But Captain Jonat says it’s you we work for. And we do. Honest.”

He swallowed, and managed to stop babbling.

“So I really can’t trust anyone,” Roseman murmured. “Not until I get this figured out.” His gaze fastened on the glowing gem at my throat.

“If you didn’t hold Fisk, I’d be the last person you could trust,” I told him.

“But I do hold Fisk,” he said. “And I’m still not fool enough to trust you. Get Phearson and Moult,” he told a guard. “They’ll go with us.”

“But they’re… Are you sure, boss. They’re good men, and loyal. We’re all loyal. But you’ll have to tell them what to do. We never assign them to do anything without a partner.”

“That’s why I want them,” Roseman said. “Because they won’t be plotting anything on their own.”

“The apothecary said if you bring any of your men he won’t be there.” I had to fight to keep my voice neutral. Guards coming with us was the one thing I hadn’t figured out how to deal with—except by convincing the Rose not to bring them.

“It won’t be Phearson or Moult he sold the drugs to,” Roseman said. “And if he can describe the buyer to me…well, that might solve my problem right there.”

That problem would certainly be solved when the Liege’s men arrived—and by the time they did, I had to have Roseman locked down or Fisk’s life would be forfeit. I
had
to get those guards out of the way!

When Phearson and Moult showed up, I understood their selection better. Phearson was a big blocky man, and Moult was short and blocky. Neither face displayed the signs of quick intelligence.

Told that they were to accompany Master Roseman and me, they said “Yes boss.” and showed no curiosity about anything else.

We left the house swiftly, with no time for me to leave something behind that one of them could be sent back for. Or to get into the medicine chest, and steal something to slip into a beer they wouldn’t have time to drink.

Walking down to the port, I considered trying to push them in front of a passing carriage—though ’twould be both too obvious and impossible, since Roseman walked with me and they trailed behind.

The presence of these two could demolish all our plans. Between them, they might be strong enough to break the chain, and they could certainly defend their master. Or stop me from escaping, or break my neck for the Rose. Which would bring Fisk to his death in turn.

If Lianna could manipulate Roseman into bringing her into town, surely I could figure out how to get rid of two guards! She was currently locked in her room at the inn, under guard, but here in town where she’d wanted to be. I’d even found a way to make use of her presence. And I wasn’t too proud to steal a stratagem from a lady.

“It’s a good thing you’re bringing them along,” I told Roseman. “You’re right, no one would ever use them in any conspiracy.”

Roseman snorted. “Unless the conspirator was looking for a henchman who would never realize that he’d been used. Is that what you’re about to say? Don’t push your luck, Sevenson. They’re coming.”

This man wasn’t a fool. What else to try?

We were walking down the wharf now, with all its usual bustle and chaos. A man in front of us pulled a cord that dragged a big hook and tackle back against a warehouse, then looped the draw cord loosely around its cleat.

I was on the inside, while the Rose walked by the water. It would take only a moment’s distraction.

When we reached the tie-off I came to a sudden stop, staring as hard as I could at the ships out in the bay.

“What?” The Rose turned to look too. I reached behind me and fumbled the rope off the cleat till just one wrap and my grip held the heavy hook in place.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just thought… No, it’s nothing.”

Roseman’s suspicious gaze turned to me. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” I let the line go and walked on, keeping Roseman’s attention on me. I fancied I could hear that rope unwrapping from its final loop, whipping though the rings that held it—but that might have been my imagination. “I thought I saw one of the Liege’s—”

Several men shouted in alarm, as the big hook and its tackle swung down into the street and over the water.

We both spun, and I saw that my hope had been misplaced. The massive weight hadn’t come near the guards who followed us. It didn’t hit anyone at all, though it did knock the top crate off a stack into the water.

“That’s vanilla bean!” a clerk shrieked. “It’ll be worthless if it gets wet!”

Vanilla extract sells for a sliver roundel the cup.

“Reward?” I shouted helpfully.

“Yes! Get it out of there.”

Along with half the men in hearing range, I started forward, but Roseman held me back. “Not you, Sevenson.”

But the guards, accustomed to doing whatever those around them did, had already joined the men who rushed to hook the crate, cast a rope around it, get it ashore before it sank.

I stood still, not resisting the firm grip on my arm, and let desperation pull the cover off of my magic. It flooded out, eager as always. I had channeled magic through my animal handling gift some months ago, to make Chant more than what he was. ’Twas harder, though not impossible, to make these two men less. To make them slower, clumsier—so much so that those they sought to help cursed them for dullards, and tried to thrust them aside. Clumsy enough that no one thought it odd when Phearson, reaching out to help haul the dripping crate ashore, toppled into the bay.

I felt a flash of concern, but he rose sputtering to the surface and ’twas clear he could swim. Once the crate was back on the dock, several men helped Moult—who moved more swiftly now that I’d released him—to pull Phearson from the waves.

Roseman had roared with laughter when his man splashed into the bay—though in fairness, half the bystanders had laughed along. Now, staring at Phearson’s huge dripping form, he frowned.

The man looked most pathetic. His hat was gone, his hair plastered to his skull. His sodden coat, the black and dark red of Roseman’s household colors, dripped like a small rainstorm on the cobbles at his feet. It must weigh twenty pounds. He pulled off a boot and poured the water out, setting it aside before he reached for the other. One toe protruded from a hole in his sock.

“Put them back on.” Roseman turned his scowl on me. “You’re not winning this easily.”

“I was standing right beside you when he fell in.”

“Humph.”

We had to wait while Phearson dragged his boots on, and as we continued down the street we could hear the flop and slap of his wet clothing. And more distressing to his master, a scatter of muffled chuckles.

No one dared laugh at the Rose to his face, but they were ready enough to laugh behind his back. A hint of color darkened his cheeks, growing deeper as we went on—though whether it sprang from embarrassment or anger I couldn’t say.

Eventually we reached the apothecary shop I’d chosen, because ’twas not too far from the stockyards where our trap was set. And also because the only apothecary who worked there was an elderly widow. I’d told them the apothecary I’d spoken to was a man, so if this should fail they’d know I’d been lying, and no innocent herb-grinder would be blamed.

“You’d better let me go in first,” I told Roseman. “To let him know you’ve brought two men. I can convince him they’re loyal to you, and that neither could be the man to whom he sold the drug.”

“I’ll send Phearson around to the back of the shop,” Roseman said. “To be sure the man doesn’t bolt, if you’re not convincing.”

I shrugged and waited while he gave Phearson careful orders. He had the man repeat them, to be sure he understood. Then we all watched him walk down the alley that would take him to the shop’s back door.

He’d stopped dripping, but his coat swung and clapped about him in a way that was quite comical. Glancing back to the street, Roseman caught sight of several stifled grins.

His glare scattered the crowd for yards around us.

I waited till I was certain Phearson would be in position, then went into the shop. I spent a few moments talking to the proprietor about any need she might have for magica herbs, and the price she’d pay. ’Twas likely our purse had grown thin, paying for Chant and Tipple’s stabling, and we’d owe whoever cared for True as well. Finding and harvesting magica herbs is a way I can bring in quick money, though this time of year most plants would be too young.

After a few minutes I returned to Roseman and Moult.

“He’s not there. His clerk says that the animal doctor called him down to the stockyards, to look at some case and make rec—”

“An animal doctor?”

“Apothecaries provide their medicines as well. They don’t know when he’ll be back, but we can wait—”

“I’m not going to stand here all day. He’d be at the stockyard south of the docks?”

I shrugged. “They didn’t say where. The clerk said something about a sick barn.”

“I know where that is.”

Anyone who’d dealt with the sale of livestock would, and I’d gambled that a man who’d made his fortune trading in this city would know it as well.

“It’s not far.” His gaze fell on Moult. “Why are you just standing there? Go get Phearson.”

“Yes, boss.”

Watching Phearson’s clothes flapping around him as they walked toward us proved the final straw.

“You go back to the house,” Roseman told him. “You’re calling too much attention to us.”

“Sorry, boss.” But the man stayed in front of us, swaying from one foot to another.