The Wise Man's Fear Part 22

"What ended up souring things with Kellin?" I asked, steering the conversation somewhere safer.

"I spent too much time entertaining gentlemen callers," she said dryly.

"You should have explained to him that I'm nothing remotely resembling a gentleman," I said. "That might have eased his mind." But I knew I couldn't have been the problem. I'd only managed to visit once. Had it been Ambrose that had come calling? I could picture him in the lavish sitting room all too easily. That d.a.m.n hat of his hanging casually off the corner of a chair as he drank chocolate and told jokes.

Denna's mouth quirked. "It was mostly Geoffrey he objected to," she said. "Apparently I was supposed to sit quiet and alone in my little box until he came to call on me."

"How is Geoffrey?" I asked to be polite. "Has he managed to get a second thought into his head yet?"

I expected to get a laugh, but Denna merely sighed. "He has, but none of them are particularly good thoughts." She shook her head. "He came to Imre to make a name for himself with his poetry, but lost his s.h.i.+rt gambling."

"I've heard that story before," I said. "Happens all the time over at the University."

"That was just the beginning," she said. "He figured he could win his money back, of course. First came the p.a.w.nshop. Then he borrowed money and lost that too." She made a conciliatory gesture. "Though in all fairness, he didn't gamble that away. Some b.i.t.c.h rooked him. Caught him with the weeping widow of all things."

I looked at her, puzzled. "The what?"

Denna looked at me sideways, then shrugged. "It's a simple rook," she said. "A young woman stands outside a p.a.w.nshop all fl.u.s.tered and teary, then when some rich gent walks by she explains how she came to the city to sell her wedding ring. She needs money for taxes, or to repay a moneylender."

She waved her hands impatiently. "The details don't matter. What matters is when she got to town, she asked someone else to p.a.w.n the ring for her. Because she doesn't know a thing about bargaining, of course."

Denna stopped walking in front of a p.a.w.nshop window, her face a mask of distress. "I thought I could trust him!" she said. "But he just p.a.w.ned it and ran off with the money! There's the ring right there!" She pointed dramatically at the shop's window.

"But," Denna continued, holding up a finger. "Luckily, he sold the ring for a fraction of what it's worth. It's a family heirloom worth forty talents, but the p.a.w.nshop is selling it for four."

Denna stepped close and lay her hand on my chest, looking up at me with wide, imploring eyes. "If you bought the ring, we could sell it for at least twenty. I'd give you your four talents back right away."

She stepped back and shrugged. "That sort of thing."

I frowned. "How is that a rook? I'll catch on as soon as we go to the a.s.sessor."

Denna rolled her eyes. "That's not how it works. We agree to meet tomorrow at noon. But by the time I get there, you've already bought the ring yourself and run off with it."

I suddenly understood. "And you split the money with the owner of the p.a.w.nshop?"

She patted my shoulder. "I knew you'd catch on sooner or later."

It seemed fairly watertight except for one thing. "Seems you'd need a special combination of trustworthy-yet-crooked p.a.w.nshop as a partner."

"True," she admitted. "They're usually marked though." Denna pointed to the top of the nearby p.a.w.nshop's doorframe. There were a series of marks that could easily be mistaken for random scratches in the paint.

"Ah," I hesitated for half a moment before adding, "In Tarbean, markings like that meant this was a safe place to fence ..." I groped for an appropriate euphemism. "Questionably acquired goods."

If Denna was startled by my confession she gave no sign of it. She merely shook her head and pointed more closely to the markings, moving her finger as she went. "This says, 'Reliable owner. Open to simple rooks. Even split.' " She glanced around at the rest of the doorframe and the shop's sign. "Nothing about fencing goods from uncle."

"I never knew how to read them," I admitted. I glanced sideways at her, careful to keep any judgment out of my tone. "And you know how this sort of thing works because ...?"

"I read it in a book," she said sarcastically. "How do you think I know about it?"

She continued walking down the street. I joined her.

"I don't usually play it as a widow," Denna said, almost as an afterthought. "I'm too young for that. For me it's my mother's ring. Or grandmother's." She shrugged. "You change it to whatever feels right at the time."

"What if the gent is honest?" I ask. "What if he shows up at noon, willing to help?"

"It doesn't happen often," she with a wry twist to her mouth. "Only once for me. Caught me completely by surprise. Now I set things up in advance with the owner just in case. I'm happy to rook some greedy b.a.s.t.a.r.d who tries to take advantage of a young girl. But I'm not about to take money off someone who's trying to help." Her expression went hard. "Unlike the b.i.t.c.h who got hold of Geoffrey."

"Showed up at noon, did he?"

"Of course he did," she said. "Just gave her the money. 'No need to pay me back, miss. You go save the family farm.' " Denna ran her hands through her hair, looking up at the sky. "A farm! That doesn't even make any sense! Why would a farmer's wife have a diamond necklace?" She glanced over at me. "Why are the sweet ones such idiots with women?"

"He's n.o.ble," I said. "Can't he just write home?"

"He's never been on good terms with his family," she said. "Less so now. His last letter didn't have any money, just the news that his mother was sick."

Something in her voice caught my ear. "How sick?" I asked.

"Sick." Denna didn't look up. "Very sick. And of course he's already sold his horse and can't afford pa.s.sage on a s.h.i.+p." She sighed again. "It's like watching one of those awful Tehlin dramas unfold. The Path Ill-Chosen The Path Ill-Chosen or something of the sort." or something of the sort."

"If that's the case, all he has to do is stumble into a church at the end of the fourth act," I said. "He'll pray, learn his lesson, and live the rest of his days a clean and virtuous boy."

"It would be different if he came to me for advice." She made a frustrated gesture. "But no, he stops by afterward to tell me what he's done. The guild moneylender cut off his credit, so what does he do?"

My stomach twisted. "He goes to a gaelet," I said.

"And he was happy when he told me!" Denna looked at me, her expression despairing. "Like he'd finally figured a way out of this mess." She s.h.i.+vered. "Let's go in here." She pointed to a small garden. "There's more wind tonight than I thought."

I set down my lute case and shrugged out of my cloak. "Here, I'm fine."

Denna looked like she was going to object for a moment, then drew it around herself. "And you say you're not a gentleman," she chided.

"I'm not," I said. "I just know it will smell better after you've worn it."

"Ah," she said wisely. "And then you will sell it to a perfumery and make your fortune."

"That's been my plan all along," I admitted. "A cunning and elaborate scheme. I'm more thief than a gentleman, you see."

We sat down on a bench out of the wind. "I think you've lost a buckle," she said.

I looked down at my lute case. The narrow end was gaping open, and the iron buckle was nowhere to be seen.

I sighed and absentmindedly reached for one of the inner pockets of my cloak.

Denna made a tiny noise. Nothing loud, just a startled indrawn breath as she looked suddenly up at me, her eyes wide and dark in the moonlight.

I pulled my hand back as if burned by a fire, stammering an apology.

Denna began to laugh quietly. "Well that's embarra.s.sing," she said softly to herself.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I wasn't thinking. I've got some wire in there that I can use to hold this closed for now."

"Oh," she said. "Of course." Her hands moved inside the cloak for a moment, then she held out a piece of wire.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"I was just startled," she said. "I didn't think you were the sort to grab hold of a lady without some warning first."

I looked down at the lute, embarra.s.sed, and made my hands busy, running the wire through a hole the buckle had left and twisting it tightly shut.

"It's a lovely lute," Denna said after a long, quiet moment. "But that case is an absolute shambles."

"I tapped myself out buying the lute itself," I said, then looked up as if suddenly struck with an idea. "I know! I'll ask Geoffrey to give me the name of his gaelet! Then I can afford two cases!"

She swatted at me playfully, and I moved to sit next to her on the bench.

Things were quiet for a moment, then Denna looked down at her hands and repeated a fidgeting gesture she'd made several times during our talk. Only now did I realize what she was doing. "Your ring," I asked. "What happened to it?"

Denna gave me an odd look.

"You've had a ring for as long as I've known you." I explained. "Silver with a pale blue stone."

Her forehead furrowed. "I know what it looked like. How did you?"

"You wear it all the time," I said, trying to sound casual, as if I didn't know every detail of her. As if I didn't know her habit of twirling it on her finger while she was anxious or lost in thought. "What happened to it?"

Denna looked down at her hands. "A young gentleman has it," she said.

"Ah," I said. Then, because I couldn't help myself, I added. "Who?"

"I doubt you-" She paused, then looked up at me. "Actually, you might know him. He goes to the University too. Ambrose Jakis."

My stomach was suddenly filled with acid and ice.

Denna looked away. "He has a rough charm about him," she explained. "More rough than charm, really. But ..." She trailed off into a shrug.

"I see," I said. Then, "It must be fairly serious."

Denna gave me a quizzical look, then realization spread onto her face and she burst out laughing. She shook her head, waving her hands in violent negation. "Oh no. G.o.d no. Nothing like that. He came calling a few times. We went to a play. He invited me out for dancing. He's remarkably light on his feet."

She drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "The first night he was very genteel. Witty even. The second night, slightly less so." Her eyes narrowed. "On the third night he got pushy. Things went sour after that. I had to leave my rooms at the Boar's Head because he kept showing up with trinkets and poems."

A feeling of vast relief flooded me. For the first time in days I felt like I was able to take a full lungful of air. I felt a smile threatening to burst out onto my face and fought it down, fearing it would be so wide I'd look like an absolute madman.

Denna gave me a wry look. "You'd be amazed at how similar arrogance and confidence look at first glance. And he was generous, and rich, which is a nice combination." She held up her naked hand. "The fitting was loose on my ring, and he said he'd have it repaired."

"I take it he wasn't nearly so generous after things went sour?"

Her red mouth made another wry smile. "Not nearly."

"I might be able to do something," I said. "If the ring's important to you."

"It was important," Denna said, giving me a frank look. "But what would you do, exactly? Remind him, one gentleman to another, that he should treat women with dignity and respect?" She rolled her eyes. "Good luck."

I simply gave her my most charming smile. I'd already told her the truth of things: I was no gentleman. I was a thief.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The Fickle Wind THE NEXT EVENING FOUND me at the Golden Pony, arguably the finest inn on the University side of the river. It boasted elaborate kitchens, a fine stable, and a skilled obsequious staff. It was the sort of upscale establishment only the wealthiest students could afford.

I wasn't inside, of course. I was crouched in the deep shadows of the roof, trying not to dwell on the fact that what I was planning went well beyond the bounds of Conduct Unbecoming. If I was caught breaking into Ambrose's rooms, I would undoubtedly be expelled.

It was a clear autumn night with a strong wind. A mixed blessing. The sound of rustling leaves would cover any small noises I might make, but I worried the flapping edges of my cloak might draw attention.

Our plan was a simple one. I had slipped a sealed note under Ambrose's door. It was an unsigned, flirtatious request for a meeting in Imre. Wil had written it, as Sim and I judged he had the most feminine handwriting.

It was a goose chase, but I guessed Ambrose would take the bait. I would have preferred to have someone distract him personally, but the fewer people involved the better. I could have asked Denna to help, but I wanted it to be a surprise when I returned her ring.

Wil and Sim were my lookouts, Wil in the common room, Sim in the alley by the back door. It was their job to let me know when Ambrose left the building. More importantly, they would alert me if he came back before I'd finished searching his rooms.

I felt a sharp tug in my right-hand pocket as the oak twig gave two distinct twitches. After a moment the signal was repeated. Wilem was letting me know Ambrose had left the inn.

In my left pocket was a piece of birch. Simmon held a similar one where he stood watch over the inn's back door. It was a simple, effective signaling system if you knew enough sympathy to make it work.

I crawled down the slope of the roof, moving carefully over the heavy clay tiles. I knew from my younger days in Tarbean that they tended to crack and slide and could make you lose your footing.

I made it to the lip of the roof, fifteen feet off the ground. Hardly a dizzying height, but more than enough to break a leg or a neck. A narrow piece of roof ran beneath the long row of second-story windows. There were ten in all, and the middle four belonged to Ambrose.

I flexed my fingers a couple times to loosen them, then began to edge along the narrow strip of roof.

The secret is to concentrate on what you're doing. Don't look at the ground. Don't look over your shoulder. Ignore the world and trust it to return the favor. This was the real reason I was wearing my cloak. If I were spotted I would be nothing more than a dark shape in the night, impossible to identify. Hopefully.

The first window was dark, and the second had its curtains drawn. But the third was dimly lit. I hesitated. If you're fair-skinned like me, you never want to peer into a window at night. Your face will stand out against the dark like the full moon. Rather than risk peering in, I dug around in the pockets of my cloak until I found a piece of sc.r.a.p tin from the Fishery that I'd buffed into a makes.h.i.+ft mirror. Then I carefully used it to peer around the corner and through the window.

Inside there were a few dim lamps and a canopy bed as big as my entire room back in Anker's. The bed was occupied. Actively occupied. What's more, there seemed to be more naked limbs than two people could account for. Unfortunately, my piece of tin was small, and I couldn't view the scene in its full complexity, otherwise I might have learned some very interesting things.

I briefly considered going back and coming at Ambrose's rooms from the other side, but the wind gusted suddenly, sending leaves skipping across the cobblestones and trying to claw me away from my narrow footing. Heart pounding, I decided to risk pa.s.sing this window. I guessed the people inside had better things to do than stargazing.

I pulled the hood of my cloak down and held the edges in my teeth, covering my face while leaving my hands free. Thus blinded, I inched my way past the window, listening intently for any signs I'd been spotted. There were a few surprised noises, but they didn't seem to have anything to do with me.

The first of Ambrose's windows was elaborate stained gla.s.s. Pretty, but not designed to open. The next was perfect: a wide, double window. I pulled a thin piece of copper wire from one of the pockets of my cloak and used it to trip the simple latch holding it closed.

When the window wouldn't open, I realized that Ambrose had added a drop bar as well. That took several long minutes of tricky work, one-handed in the near-total dark. Thankfully, the wind had died down, at least for the moment.