Authors: Tamora Pierce
Bloodhound (52 page)
As I'd hoped, there was a priest's robe for the Black God's order that would fit over my own uniform. Better still, this was a high priest's robe, with a thin veil stitched inside the hood to hide the face. My pale eyes would be hid as well as my uniform. I'd hoped to find the Black God's clothes. Being's that I was already in his service, he wouldn't be vexed, or so I hoped. The other gods might well be cross if I wore the habits of their servants. Achoo might give me away, or she might not. There were plenty of curly-haired mongrels running the streets of town.
I picked up a basket and a scarf. Into the basket went my pack, after I took what I owed my two friends out of it. I tucked the scarf over and around the pack, so it looked as if I carried foodstuffs.
"Achoo,
kemari!"
I called softly.
"Jaga."
Achoo sat beside the basket, panting happily. She didn't seem to mind that I called her away from interesting smells. I've never had so cheerful a partner.
The gixie had pulled a rich red velvet dress over herself, tangling the sleeves. The lad was trying to free her as he laughed. They went still as I came close.
"I said I'd give you more coin," I told them. On the floor I set ten silver nobles, each scored down the front to show it was good. I set another ten silver nobles beside that, then added my last bit of food, a good-sized hunk of cheese.
They stared. Then both lunged for the coin, ignoring the cheese. They tested each coin again with their belt knives.
"They's
real"
the lad said, staring at me with awe.
I just hope Goodwin thinks that their saving my life is worth it. Of course, they showed me where Pearl is making her coles, too. It seems to me the price is a proper one.
"I said I'd pay right. Now, if you're wise, you'll go to a bathhouse," I told them. "You don't want Pearl having a mage look at you and him sniffing out you was near me. Lavender oil in your wash water should do. And fresh clothes."
"Then yez need t' go afore we picks some," the gixie said.
I nodded and collected my basket. "Achoo,
tumit
. Lavender oil, you two. Don't forget." Achoo followed me out the door. Once in the hall, I listened until I heard the door lock behind me. Then I called my memory of Okha's map of this place to my mind. Once I knew where we were, I lit one of the wall lamps using my flint and steel and took it down to light my way out. Achoo marked the trail in her own way.
"I doubt we're coming back," I whispered to her at yet another stop. Achoo whuffed softly and wagged her tail. "I suppose you're one of them as says it never hurts to be sure." Achoo wagged her tail again and danced, which I took as meaning I had the right of it.
I opened the exit door I'd found remembering Okha's map and looked around. Outside was a pitch-black alley with no guards in view. Had I been Pearl, I'd have some sharp things to say to guards who left their stations even when she did not hold court there. An assassin could break in and wait for her return. I was me, though, so I left the door open. Even though the place belonged to the Rogue, folk wouldn't refuse the chance to help themselves to what was there.
Achoo and I walked onto a larger side street, then onto Barbers' Walk. I tucked my gloves into my basket and lowered the veil over my face, then doused my lamp and left it there. I moved forward at a slower priest's walk, my basket over one arm. Carefully, turning briefly down side streets or alleys if we saw any who might recognize Achoo and guess that the veiled priest was me, we moved uphill until, at last, the Waterlily came in view.
The rushers who kept rowdies from entering the place frowned at the sight of me. Since it's bad luck to offend the Black God's priests, even though they aren't thought to be lucky for gamblers, they let me in. One of the menservants came at me, fluttering, trying to offer me a table, private and unseen. I stopped him with a copper noble and a whispered request to see the Amber Orchid on sacred business. I knew I'd have to wait. I could hear Okha singing, his voice clear and beautiful on the too-hot air.
The servant was so glad to be able to hide me away that he not only escorted me up to Okha's room, he fetched me a pitcher of warm cider and a basket of cakes. Once he closed the door behind him, Achoo and I sat on Okha's couch. I leaned back gratefully.
Of course I went to sleep. All that excitement, with the running and crawling beside, tired me out. The room was warm, the hound curled up with me was reassuring. Anyone would have taken a nap.
I was roused by Achoo's quiet whuff. I sprang to my feet, forgetting I was in a habit, not a uniform. I tangled in its skirts and went sprawling on the rug. I rolled over, fumbling for my sleeve knives, hidden by the habit's folds. Only then did I see that the butterfly-bright creature in a bronze silk gown was Okha. He wore a wig of marvelously looped white hair, each loop secured with a jeweled butterfly clasp.
Swiftly he closed the door and helped me to my feet. "Friend, I beg forgiveness," he said quietly. The Black God's priests are always called Friend. "I was not expecting so auspicious a guest." His fingers and his voice were trembling. He thought I was a real priest bringing news of a death.
"Okha, it's me." I tugged at my hood and felt the veil drag at my face. I hooked my fingers under the fine cloth and dragged the whole thing back. "Beka Cooper."
Okha collapsed onto a chair. "Beka! Gods preserve me, I nearly fainted!"
Somehow I doubted that.
Okha went on in his mot's mellow and golden voice, "Do you
know
how many people are looking for you? Pearl Skinner herself is downstairs with her guards, playing cards with Dale and watching his every move. When he went to the privy, she had Jurji follow him. Her people came to Nestor's house, hunting you. So are Dogs from Guards House. They have a writ from Sir Lionel that says you are mad and must be taken up for your own safety."
I flinched. I hadn't thought the milk-blooded cull would be so nasty as to label me mad.
"No one
believes
him, Beka," Okha reassured me. "Not when he sends Ives, his very own bully boy, to track you down. But plenty want to know what you did to cross Sir Lionel."
"It's hardly safe for folk to know, if I've got the Deputy Provost on me, right?" I asked him. "But I do need Nestor as soon as may be, and unseen by anybody. It's important."
Okha hesitated. I grabbed his hand. "If you don't," I told him, as serious as I could, "if you try to keep him safe in all this, he'll never forgive you."
"Curse you," Okha whispered. "When did you get so knowing?" He turned to his desk and wrote something, then opened the door. I scrambled to pull the veil and hood over my face. Okha whispered to whoever came to the door whilst I sat, gazing at a tapestry. Then Okha turned back to me when the door was shut and locked. "How did one young Dog cause so much trouble?" he asked me.
"I do my work," I said. "I'm going to need a place to hide tomorrow. Do you know one?"
"Right here is good enough," he said, gesturing to take in the small room. "No one comes here during the day. I'll tell my servant to stay out after the last meal of the night. You can turn anything in that chest into a disguise. Use the red or black wigs if you like. I have to say, going as one of the Black God's servants is brilliant. Don't you fear his wrath?"
I gave him half a smile. "We have an arrangement."
"Oh." Okha covered his mouth. His bronze nails caught the lamplight. They were quivering. Suddenly I felt bad. He'd been naught but a friend to me. "Okha, I'll go. You're afraid with me here."
He shook his head. "You'll do no such thing. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Now, I must go sing. You may wish to step into that cupboard. There's a door to a hidden room in the back. They will bring my supper up soon, and it will be best for everyone if there is no priest of the Black God in my dressing room." He showed me the catch at the back of the cupboard. I had to stoop, but the door went through into a small, proper room, just as Okha had said. Achoo and I went into it. Outside the second door there was a flat rooftop where we could sit out if we wished and Achoo could do her business.
I settled onto the pillows that lay on the hidden room's floor. It seemed like a good time to catch up on the day's events in my journal, which I have done. Now I think I will sleep a bit more, if Achoo will stop snoring.
Okha's dressing room
Four of the clock in the morning.
Nestor woke me around one of the morning by setting a plate full of supper beside me. He sat on his heels, watching, as I struggled to sit up among the pillows. Achoo placed her nose beside my plate.
"You're shameless," Nestor told her. "And I left a plate of chopped meat for you in the other room. Let me get it." He fetched it and put it before her, grinning as Achoo gobbled her food. He waited beside me as I polished off a nice fish stew. "Now. What have you to tell me that has my dearest Okha so unhappy?"
I met Nestor's eyes. "Okha senses I can give you a way to hurt Pearl, but Nestor, it's really dangerous."
Nestor inspected me, his pleasant blue-gray eyes gone hard. They were Dog eyes now, and pleased I was to see them. "Guards House has a writ out on you."
"Because I told Sir Lionel he'd let things run wild here and he knew curst well who the colemonger is." I must have been weary or addled, because I kept on talking. "His gems are the size of millet seed. Folk in this city are dead for that. They'll have a long winter and more will die hungry, because he could have put his hand on Pearl Skinner long ago, and he never did."
Nestor sighed. "Pox," he muttered. "We were fools, thinking all would be well if we just swept up after him. But it isn't. And now our mess has leaked over Tortall."
"All over the Olorun Valley, anyway," I replied.
We sat in silence for a bit. Finally Nestor said, "I'll do what must be done, Beka. So will the folk I trust. That's a Dog's bargain." He made a fist. I offered my own. He tapped my fist with his, and I returned the tap to seal the bargain.
"I'm asking that you keep most of what we do secret until you talk to Lord Gershom. Sir Lionel and most of Port Caynn's Dogs never get a
whiff of
what you're doing. Not the slightest tickle in the nose," I told him.
"Very well," Nestor said.
"I can take you to the colemongery," I said. "You and them what you can trust will have to take all you can gather, if we can get in at all. I don't know how long it'll be until the cole-mongers learn someone's found the place. I made it hard for anyone to enter the room, but that alone will tip them off."
"They'll know the fair has left town if we loot it," Nestor told me.
"Not if we make it look like it wasn't Dogs as carried off the spoil," I replied. I flapped the skirts of my habit at him. "Inside one of these, they'd be hard put to name the dams that birthed them. Or use burnooses like the Bazhir wear, if you fear to offend a god." I plucked at my habit. "I work for this one sometimes."
Nestor paled and made the Sign. "We'll use burnooses," he said. "And we can go tonight. I'll have it all in a couple of hours, crew and wagon alike. A safe hiding place for the goods, too." He got to his feet. "I'll let you know when we're ready."
"Nestor?" I asked before he could go. He waited. "Is there any way you could get word about a Master Isanz Finer and his family? They're silversmiths. They were taken up and charged with colemongering by Tradesmen's kennel."
Something changed in Nestor's face. "Friends of yours?"
"Goodwin's more, Master Finer, particularly, but yes, I know them, him." I was starting to fumble my words, not liking the look in his eyes. "You
do
know sommat."
"Tradesmen's sent them on to the Rattery, Beka, all but Isanz," Nestor said gently. "His heart failed him on the way to the kennel. The Black God has him now."
I said something to thank him, something to make him feel I would be all right while he was out. He left to make his arrangements. I sat with Achoo, my appetite gone. I couldn't sleep, either. I'd failed Master Finer. If I'd been more polite to Sir Lionel, or if I'd just gone to Tradesmen's with some gold, mayhap I could have saved him.
I might have worried like that all night, but my memory is sharp like a Dog's. Nestor had said, "On the way to the kennel." Isanz was dead afore I even knew he was taken. It was folly for me to belabor myself.
Still, I wish I'd had a proper chance to save him. I liked him.
I tried to keep busy, so as not to grieve to no purpose. In between Okha's visits, his rest times between performances, I exercised, completed this journal so far, and sharpened each blade I carry. I even combed Achoo's fur and went over all of her commands to refresh them. And I prayed to the Black God for Master Finer.
The night for this place ends at two of the clock. Okha was just making sure I had food and drink and a chamber pot when Nestor, in a properly arranged and tied burnoose, came for me. He fairly crackled with eagerness and kissed Okha as a lover kisses his sweetheart after a long separation. Okha murmured a brief prayer, but he said no word against Nestor's undertaking.
I left Achoo in the hidden room, though Achoo liked it not at all. I had to give her the
diamlah
order twice before she would stop barking. Then I followed Nestor into the night, my veil and hood over my face, my gloves on my hands. All this secrecy would do no good if Pearl's mages tracked us by the essence we left on what we touched.
"No names," warned Nestor as we met up with three other folk in burnooses. One of them carried a torch for light. There was little of it in the streets. Nestor spoke quietly to us all. "Remember what happened to those who have tried to trap this Rat before. Eyes everywhere." We nodded. I settled comfortably in my skin. This wasn't the kind and careful Nestor of his house, or even the sharp-edged Nestor who had gone to supper with Okha, Goodwin, and me. This was Sergeant Haryse. He'd command us well. He'd stay calm, even if the Rat we were Dogging was a Rat he'd been after for a long, long time.