Thief's Covenant Part 13

"Indeed." The archbishop smiled once more. "If I may take a wild guess, Major? You were about to tell me, in the most respectful manner imaginable, that I'm a foolish old man who forgives far too easily, can't tell an a.s.sa.s.sin's dagger from a b.u.t.ter knife, and wouldn't know real danger if it came up and bit me on something that I cannot, as an official of the Church, admit to possessing. Is that about the size of it?"

Julien's jaw clamped shut tighter than a chast.i.ty belt.

"Major," he continued, leaning over his desk, all trace of good humor sliding from his face, "allow me to be absolutely, perfectly clear. I appreciate your concern for my well-being. I appreciate that you're trying to do your job to the best of your ability. And I will happily admit that I'm far less familiar with the bloodier aspects of life than you.

"At the same time, I am no stranger to violence. My life has been threatened more than once, and I have defended it more than once. I believe in the afterlife, and I even have the audacity to think that I'm headed to the more pleasant place when my time comes, but I'm in no rush to prove it. I am not an idiot, no matter what gossip you might hear, and I am not some ignorant old fool to be taken in by a pretty face.

"When this Widders.h.i.+ns burst into my chamber, she was wounded, and attempting to warn me of some coming danger. As you yourself informed me, she seems to have rather handily dispatched another disreputable fellow who was lurking about the house, one who most likely did intend me some amount of bodily harm. So tell me why I should be worried about this woman?"

"Your Eminence," Bouniard told him, fighting to keep his voice under control, "I'll acknowledge that she probably wasn't here to kill you. It's not her way. But she's involved with people of a much bloodier bent-and putting thoughts of murder aside, she was definitely here to rob you. I don't approve of that, even if you do. And someone wants to cause you harm. So either way, you're in danger. And either way, Widders.h.i.+ns is connected to it, and she's the only lead I've got.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see if your carriage is ready." Fists clenched so hard his leather gauntlets squeaked, the major rose, bowed stiffly, and swept from the room.

"That," Maurice noted as he moved to stand behind the archbishop's left shoulder, "is not a happy jasper."

"Indeed, no," William agreed.

"Maurice," he said suddenly, swiveling to face his young friend, "you'll not be traveling with me to our next residence. There's something I need you to do for me."

"I'm a very busy woman, Jean Luc." Lisette Suvagne leaned, hawklike, over the edge of the table, her face illuminated h.e.l.lishly by the lamp blazing between her and her unexpected guests. "I have no work for you, and I certainly didn't summon you. So what the h.e.l.l are you and your..."

She scowled irritably at the motley a.s.sortment. Jean Luc had always struck her as little more than a common dandy-he reminded her vaguely of Renard Lambert, come to think of it, even if he lacked the foppish thief's flamboyance-though she had to admit he was decent at his job. She didn't know the others: two, in their dueling vests and cheap rapiers, looked the part of common thugs. The last was tall, shrouded in a worn cloak, his hands and face bandaged as though to evoke the leprosy scares of old. Only the fact that Jean Luc had worked for the guild before, and swore he'd come on a matter of urgency, had won them admission past the guards. The red-haired taskmaster fully intended to have someone lashed if this didn't prove very, very important.

Or at least interesting."You and your friends doing here?" she finally concluded, twisting a dagger between her fingers, scarring the heavy table with the blade. The sound of tiny splinters being gouged from the wood snuck through the chamber and went to go lurk in the corner, where it occasionally bounced back at them as an echo.

"That's not good for the steel, you know," Jean Luc said neutrally.

"Oh, thank you so much. I've never held a dagger before. They're sharp, aren't they?"

"I was just-"

"Just about to tell me why you're here, why I should talk to you when I frankly have no use for you, and why I shouldn't just have all your throats slit and your carca.s.ses dumped in a deep hole with the rats." She grinned maliciously. "You don't necessarily have to answer to that last one, if it's too much of a strain."

Jean Luc returned her smile, obviously not cowed in the slightest. "I would very much like to know when the Finders' Guild was taken over by idiots and cretins."

Lisette rocked back in her seat. He couldn't possibly be talking about the attempt to kill Widders.h.i.+ns in gaol; not even the Shrouded Lord, let alone anyone outside the guild, could have linked her to it! And yet, what else could he...? "Explain yourself-quickly," she hissed at him.

"What could possibly have possessed you," Jean Luc continued, ignoring the woman's posturing, "to authorize a job on the archbishop? That sort of attention's bad for all of us, not just your precious guild!"

The taskmaster's jaw snapped shut like a bear trap, allowing only the release of a strangled, "What?!"

"The archbishop," Jean Luc repeated slowly, as though explaining something to a child. "One of your thieves made an attempt on his belongings the night before last. My employeer-"

"And that would be who, exactly?" she interrupted.

"You know full well that I can't tell you that, mademoiselle. But I'll say that it's someone who would make a very bad enemy." He fluttered his fingers in dismissal, as though shaking a clinging strand of cobweb from his gloves.

"I have plenty of enemies," Lisette told him stiffly, when it became clear he would offer no further answer. "One more doesn't scare me. But as it happens, we authorized no such operation. Perhaps you'd tell me more about it?"

"Really?" Jean Luc leaned back, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Not to doubt your word, but I find that hard to fathom. She was clearly a professional, mademoiselle."

"She?" Lisette's face lit up to shame the lantern. "Describe her," she all but cooed.

Jean Luc shrugged, and began. He'd scarcely gotten beyond eye and hair color before Lisette's own eyes blazed like a funeral pyre.

"Widders.h.i.+ns!" The woman's grin was somehow both wolfish and serpentine at once.

"Really. Don't any of you people have normal names, Taskmaster?"

Lisette ignored him. "The little scab was specifically ordered to keep away from de Laurent! I told them she'd be trouble, but no, have to give her the chance to hang herself first. Well, now she's done it, hasn't she?"

And made things much easier for Brock and me, for that matter.

Jean Luc rose to his feet and bowed politely to the woman sitting across from him. "I see this has become an internal guild matter, then. We'll leave you to your affairs, content in the knowledge that you can handle the situation. Good evening."

"Just a moment, Jean Luc," the taskmaster interrupted as he rose, her voice oily as a well-greased hinge. "And what, precisely, were you doing at the Rittier household to witness little Widders.h.i.+ns's activities?"

The a.s.sa.s.sin ran a hand down his fine vest. "I was a guest," he said simply.

Lisette Suvagne was no fool; Jean Luc hailed from the aristocracy, yes, and he could have been innocently attending the party, but she didn't buy it for a moment. He'd been there on his own job, one that could have thrown the entire city into chaos if he'd meant to kill de Laurent himself. She was tempted to demand answers from him, even though she knew well she'd get none.

But there were always alternatives.

Lisette waved him away, waited until her guests had departed, then rose and strode from the room. She whispered instructions to the nearest guard, who nodded and darted off along the hall; then she moved in the other direction.

Widders.h.i.+ns had finally given Lisette cause to deal with her as she'd always wished. Not even the Shrouded Lord could object if she took action now, not without appearing weak. Lisette almost felt like skipping along the darkened halls, and many of her fellow Finders recoiled in fear from the gleeful malevolence in her grin.

Huddled deep in a tattered cloak, good hand and bad both wrapped in a beggar's bandages, Henri Roubet waited in the shadows of a nearby alley. His companions had been inside a while, now, and the former Guardsman was growing ever more concerned that something had gone wrong-or that one of the guild sentries would decide he was more than the vagabond he seemed, and run him off. He'd give them a few more minutes, but then...

Then, thank the G.o.ds, Jean Luc and the others emerged, apparently unharmed. They looked this way and that, as though getting their bearings, but for a split second the a.s.sa.s.sin met his eyes and nodded. All right, they had what they needed. Now it was his turn.

Jean Luc and the others disappeared down a side street, followed a moment later-as they'd known they would be-by several guild thieves, determined to learn whom they served. Roubet let them go; they weren't his concern.

The second group, however, led by the large, limping man with the hammer, were definitely his concern. Sticking close to the shadows, Roubet flitted after them.

"I see that you're not the only crazy man out and about tonight, Major."

"Of course not," Julien Bouniard said as he carefully slid both rapier and scabbard from the frog at his belt. "You're here with me, sir."

"Amusing, lad. But that's not what I meant." Chapelle reached out and grabbed the guard by the shoulders, physically turning him so that he would have to gaze down over the lip of the roof on which they stood. From above, the pair of them watched as multiple groups departed the structure across the lane.

Julien's eyes narrowed at the sight of the second group. "That big fellow there may be the man who was fighting with Widders.h.i.+ns," he noted.

"Good. Go chase him. It's by far the saner activity."

"You agreed this had to be done, sir."

"I did no such thing. I agreed to help you do it, because I'd feel guilty if you went off and got yourself killed and I could've done something. That doesn't remotely alter the fact that I think you're mad as a syphilitic hatter."

The younger man's eyes widened just a bit, and Chapelle muttered something about his years out of uniform having made him too lax about watching his tongue.

And then there was nothing to be done but for the old former sergeant to watch as his companion-his friend-moved down the rickety stairs and made his way, unarmed, toward the heart of organized crime in Davillon.

Julien struggled to keep his breathing even and his shoulders straight as he neared the doorway, but there was nothing he could do about the sweat gathering on his palms, or the hairs rising on the nape of his neck. The Finders' Guild had lasted this long, in part, by staying smart-they weren't going to murder a member of the guard without cause. Then again, the incident in the gaol suggested that their att.i.tudes might've changed recently, and even if they had not, the guild acting smart didn't mean everyone in the guild had a brain to call their own.

A faint breeze gusted along the roadway, hauling the scents of woods and meats and smokes on its back, setting Julien's cloak to rustling. He was certain he was being watched, that the guild must have eyes trained on the street, but d.a.m.ned if he could spot any of them. With a fist that wasn't shaking at all-and he was rather proud of himself for that-Julien pounded on the door.

A sliding panel, so cunningly concealed in the woodwork that Julien hadn't the vaguest suspicion it was there, slid open with a loud clack. He couldn't see much of the person behind it, just barely enough to guess that it was a woman. Her voice confirmed that guess when she barked out, "We're closed for business at this hour, and we're not looking for new clients at any rate."

"I want to see the Shrouded Lord."

It was, at the least, unexpected enough to stay her hand before she could slide the aperture shut once more. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's not waste either of our time pretending that this place is something it's not. I need to speak to the Shrouded Lord. Immediately."

"You..." The woman clearly hadn't the slightest idea how to respond. "You're mad!"

"Getting there," Julien told her. "Nearer every moment we stand here arguing, in fact. I'm unarmed. I'm planning no tricks. Now be a good little thief and let me in." Then, at the narrowing of her eyes, "And don't even think it. I'm not alone."

He waved, and at that prearranged signal, a lantern blazed from atop the roof, then just as swiftly vanished. Julien knew that Chapelle was already moving to a new vantage point, in case any of the thieves chose to converge on the source of the light. But it was enough to prove that Julien was being watched by eyes from both sides of the law.

"So," the major continued, "your options are exactly these. You can refuse to let me in, and risk the possibility that what I've to say to your master is something he'd wish to hear. You can kill me, of course, but then you've committed the cold-blooded murder of a Guardsman-with a witness, no less-right outside your headquarters, and I'll just bet that that wouldn't make you popular with your boss, either. Or you can let me in, and allow me to speak with him, and let him decide what's to be done with me and the news I bring."

Almost a full minute pa.s.sed as the thief on guard duty struggled with a conundrum for which she obviously wasn't remotely prepared. And then, finally, Julien heard the clank of a heavy deadbolt. The door swung slowly open before him, and with a nervous swallow, a frantic prayer to Demas, and a sudden deluge of second thoughts for which it was already far too late, Major Julien Bouniard stepped across the threshold into the headquarters of the Finders' Guild.

Lisette wound her way along darkened corridors, hollow worms that twisted through the depths of the Finders' Guild. It was nothing but a modest and mildly dilapidated building on the surface, but the sprawling complex beneath was nearly as large and convoluted as the palace of Galice's king. Any poor soul who didn't know what he was doing could easily find himself lost for days on end down here-a.s.suming one of the guards didn't end his visit prematurely.

Lisette's journey finally carried her into the gargantuan stone shrine roughly at the center of the complex. She settled to her knees atop a long, plush cus.h.i.+on that some thoughtful soul had placed before the idol, and offered up to her patron her heartfelt thanks.

Her reverie was interrupted perhaps fifteen minutes later by the gentle swish of a chapel door.

Gracefully, her gaze remaining locked on the G.o.d of Davillon's thieves, Lisette stood, a rising serpent. Only then did she look away from the stone deity, turning toward the newcomer and nodding her head in acknowledgment.

"He wants to see you," the thief told her. He didn't say, and she didn't ask, who "he" was. Head high and haughty, she made her way to the smoke-filled chamber.

"I understand we've had visitors," the Shrouded Lord announced without preamble.

"We have indeed," she confirmed.

"Tell me."

For long moments Lisette spoke, the triumph in her voice marred only by the occasional cough as the fumes in the chamber tickled her throat. Still longer moments pa.s.sed in silence when she was done, as the Shrouded Lord sat immobile, considering her words.

The taskmaster grinned again, nothing but teeth. "I told you she would hand us enough rope to hang herself. It's time to tie us a noose."

"I..." Was it her imagination, or was the Shrouded Lord hesitating? "Yes, I suppose we-"

Whatever he might have said was lost in a loud tapping at his chamber door. "Enter!"

One of the Finders-the same who had fetched Lisette from the shrine-stuck his head through the doorway. "You've got a visitor."

"Can't you see that we're busy?" Lisette snapped at him, furious that her moment of triumph had been interrupted.

"I-yes, Taskmaster, but I think you two really need to see him." Only then did Lisette recognize the underlying sense of astonishment beneath the man's words.

"Our little clubhouse seems popular tonight," the Shrouded Lord observed before his lieutenant could speak further. "All right, escort him in."

She wasn't certain what she was expecting, but a man clad in full uniform, sporting the fleur-de-lis of the Davillon Guard, was absolutely not on the list. Lisette couldn't help sucking her breath through her teeth in shock, and even the Shrouded Lord, obscured by the smoke and his ragged garb, seemed to twitch in surprise.

"He's been searched," the thief behind the door announced. "Three times, at least. He's unarmed."

"Go," the Shrouded Lord said simply, and the thief vanished, pulling the portal shut behind him. "You're a brave man, Constable...?"

"Or a stupid one," Lisette muttered, not entirely under her breath.

"Major," the other man corrected. "And with your indulgence, I believe I'd like to forgo names for the time being."

Lisette opened her mouth to object, thought better of it. Best see where this leads....

"Very well, Major," the mouth growled from behind the shroud. "If we're forgoing the pleasantries, what the h.e.l.l are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that neither of us wants open bloodshed in the streets of Davillon, so with all due respect, perhaps you should tell me what the h.e.l.l you were thinking?"

Lisette struggled to hide a smirk-partly because she enjoyed seeing someone else speaking to the Shrouded Lord without simpering to him, mostly because she was pretty sure she knew what was coming. If the Guard was just as furious at Widders.h.i.+ns's actions against the archbishop, was prepared to hold them against the guild, it was just that much more impetus to hunt her down and- "Sending an a.s.sa.s.sin into a city gaol, 'my lord'? Murdering Guardsmen? Are you trying to start a war?"

Oh, s.h.i.+t...

"Because I'll tell you, 'my lord,' if we have to pet.i.tion de Laurent to find us a way around the ban on conflict within the Pact, we're fully prepared to-"

"Major, shut up."

The Guardsman's mouth clacked shut.

"Are you going to tolerate this from him?" Lisette demanded, desperate to get the man out of the chamber. "We should-"

"Taskmaster? Kindly follow the major's example and be silent!"

Her face nearly as red as her hair, burning with an almost painful fury, she obeyed.

"Wonderful. Now..." The Shrouded Lord leaned forward, seeming almost to drift closer within the smoke. "Tell me, Major, exactly what happened."

"What makes you so certain," he asked when the tale was concluded, "that this has anything to do with the Finders' Guild?"

"It was well organized," the major told him. "He had partners to set the fire, distract the guards. It was well funded, considering how much he was able to offer in bribes. And this all happened in front of a hall full of convicts. It took some doing, but I found a few willing to identify the fellow as one of yours."

"I see. And you feel certain that he was there for Widders.h.i.+ns?"

"I am."