Above His Proper Station (7 page)

“I have.”

“And you would be willing to do so again, should circumstances require it?”

“I would.” Anrel saw no point in denying it; he had turned thief readily enough when it seemed the only way to get out of Naith alive, and he would do no differently now.

He really
wasn't
worthy of Tazia.

“You say you lived in a burgrave's home for several years,” Doz continued. “How did that come about?”

Anrel glanced around the room. “These lads told me that it is not the custom in the Pensioners' Quarter to make inquiries into one's personal history.”

“It is not, I confess, but your circumstances are rather unusual; will you not indulge my curiosity?”

“I was orphaned while still a small child. The burgrave took me in.”

“Generous of him.”

“The burgrave of Alzur is a generous man.”

Doz nodded, fingering his beard thoughtfully. “And how did you come to leave this sorcerer's home? Did you simply overstay your welcome?”

Anrel shook his head. “No,” he said. “I was forced to sever my ties with friends and family in that area due a misunderstanding with the local magistrates.”

“Ah, I believe I have experienced such misunderstandings. But you said you were not yet a thief when you dwelt with the burgrave?”

“I was not.”

“Then what was the nature of this misunderstanding?”

Anrel smiled wryly. “The magistrates had the absurd notion that I committed sedition and treason in protesting certain actions by the landgrave of Aulix.”

Doz smiled back. “How very unfortunate!”

“Further, it has been said that I made my escape in a stolen boat, but I assure you, I had every intention of restoring my borrowed craft to its rightful owner, should the opportunity present itself.”

“I see.” Doz leaned back against the door frame. “And has the landgrave, or the boat's owner, perhaps sent representatives to discuss these matters with you?”

“Not that I am aware of, no.”

“Are they aware that you have come to Lume?”

“I have no reason to think so.”

“Then why did you seek out the Emperor's Elbow, when you had the money in your pocket to pay for a far better establishment?”

“I have no reason to think that I am
not
being pursued,” Anrel replied. “I am perhaps, at times, overcautious.”

Doz considered that for a moment, then asked, “What did you do to upset a landgrave? Or was that a fiction of the magistrates' devising?”

“Oh, it's true enough, after a fashion. I was in Naith when that troublemaker Alvos gave his speech, and I got a little carried away. I said a few things about the despicable Lord Allutar that the City Watch considered inappropriate. The part about the boat is simple fact.”

“Your burgrave couldn't intercede for you?”

“The burgrave was kind to me, but I do not think his generosity extended to interceding with the magistrates. He and I did not share the same opinion of Lord Allutar, nor of the present political situation.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I did not. The opportunity did not arise.”

Doz nodded. “But you don't think anyone is looking for you?”

“I don't know,” Anrel admitted. “I wouldn't think so.”

“You understand, if you've lied about this, and someone
does
come looking for you, it's quite likely someone here in the quarter will either deliver you to them, or simply stick a knife in you.”

“I am not surprised to hear it. Until such time as that happens, though, just what is it you want of me?”

“You know we are thieves,” Doz said. “We prefer, however, not to rely on violence or other such crude actions. Shoun, here, is a pickpocket, while Mieshel, as you know all too well, is adept at carrying away unsecured belongings. Po is small enough to slip through unguarded openings and pass valuables out to his confederates. Apolien—well, he has his own methods. For myself, though, my hands are not small nor quick enough to pick pockets, and I am too large to go unnoticed or squeeze through half-opened windows. I have, therefore, made a career not of simply
taking
people's money, but of convincing them to
give
it to me. I have employed a variety of ruses to that end—claiming to be a worker in various trades, or saying I need a small loan to redeem some family heirloom put up as security on a loan, and so on. However, my appearance and manner are such that I cannot expect anyone to believe I am wealthy myself, and merely momentarily embarrassed.
You,
on the other hand, with your velvet coat and elegant bearing, and your fearlessness—you could be a very useful partner in my enterprise.”

“I don't understand,” Anrel said. “What would you expect me to do?”

“Talk to people,” Doz explained. “To the rich—sorcerers, merchants, and the like. They won't avoid you, as they do me, not if you can keep yourself clean. You can look like a wealthy man, or at worst someone down on his luck who
was
wealthy. You can distract them, or lure them in.”

“I see,” Anrel said. He was not entirely happy taking on such a role, but he could see how it might be useful.

“We don't need another pair of hands, not if they're attached to a mouth that needs feeding, but a man who cuts a fine figure—that we can use. And you didn't do anything stupid yesterday. Most men of your sort who find themselves in the quarter—well, they do something stupid, and wind up lying in the street with their throats slit.”

“The street? The watchmen don't see?” Anrel said.

Doz snorted. “The watchmen can't be everywhere,” he said. “They don't come into the quarter very often, even on their arches and walkways, and when they do, there are still places they can't see—around corners, behind pillars, inside our homes. Sometimes the best place to avoid being seen is right below a watchman's feet.”

That could hardly be argued. Anrel knew well that the watch could not see what happened directly under an arch.

“Are you interested in playing roles for us?” Doz asked.

Anrel thought for a long moment before replying. He had always considered himself an honest man, but he was already a thief and an outlaw. He had no means of support, no idea how to find honest work; his training in history and law was of no use to a fugitive. Even before Valin's death he had been unable to find himself a good position, and now—well, Doz had just made him the best offer he had heard to date, and quite possibly the best he could hope for.

And he felt certain that no one from Naith or Beynos would come looking for him in the Pensioners' Quarter.

“We would split the proceeds evenly?” he asked.

Doz grinned. “That seems fair.”

“No unnecessary violence? We won't hurt anyone?”

“Not unless they try to harm us,” Doz agreed.

“We will make an effort to choose victims who can afford the loss?”

“Of course; those are the ones least likely to turn violent.”

“I am free to leave if these plans do not work out?”

“I can scarcely watch you every minute of the day.”

“You will give up your absurd interest in the coat the burgrave gave me?”

“At least until you can afford better, I very much want you to keep that coat—it makes a great contribution to your appearance, which is an essential element in our plans.”

“In that case, let us give your scheme a try.” He held out a hand.

Doz reached out and took it.

That was how Anrel came to the Pensioners' Quarter, which became his home for the remainder of the winter and through the spring.

6

In Which Anrel Becomes Acquainted with His New Home

Once he had accepted Doz's offer Anrel found himself once again beginning an education in Lume, but a very different one from his earlier studies. He had been taught law in the court schools; now, in the Pensioners' Quarter, he learned how to live outside the law.

He learned to play a variety of roles—the outraged brother bursting in on a whore and her customer, the disgraced cousin selling his family's glass-and-paste jewels, the drunken sorcerer entertaining a tavern crowd with sleight of hand while his compatriots robbed them.

He was too big and noticeable to become a pickpocket, but he made an excellent decoy for pickpockets. He was very believable shouting, “He went that way!” while pointing in the wrong direction.

Most of all, however, he played the part of a young man of good family who had somehow found himself without funds and who needed a guilder or two to see himself safely back home. Naturally, anyone who loaned him the money would be promised a generous reward, to be sent as soon as he was returned to his father's hearth. The tale varied with circumstances—sometimes he had been robbed, sometimes he had gambled away his allowance, sometimes he had drunk it away but was now sworn to sobriety, sometimes he had fallen in with bad company and been led astray, wasting his money on wine and women. On occasion he confessed to having become enamored of some peculiar cult and given its priests his every penny, or enamored of a whore, and given
her
his every penny in hopes of restoring her to decent society, only to have her disappoint him. Coach fare to Kallai or Azar or Sorimel would see his fortunes restored, and whoever loaned it to him would be repaid tenfold.

If coach fare was too much, perhaps threepence to send a letter? And another penny for paper?

Anrel was especially convincing when bemoaning the loss of a woman; he had merely to remember Tazia to add a large measure of verisimilitude.

The deception Anrel found most amusing, though, was to sadly confess to having been swindled out of his money, leaving him destitute.

There were more complicated schemes, as well, where Anrel would pretend to recognize an artifact as a stolen family treasure and demand recompense, or where he would insist that he was owed a debt incurred during a night of drunken debauchery.

Often Doz took part in these performances, playing the role of debt collector, or family messenger, or whatever other character might seem appropriate. He claimed half the take, however much it might be, and Anrel accepted this without argument; he considered it rent and tuition. In truth, Anrel still had enough money concealed that he scarcely missed what he paid Doz.

Anrel's clothes had become shabby enough to limit his ruses at first; he could hardly claim to have only just now fallen upon hard times when his every garment had clearly been suffering for a season or two. He therefore slipped away from Doz long enough to visit a tailor every so often, and began rebuilding his wardrobe. The very first thing he bought, other than food, was a new hat.

Whenever he found himself alone outside the Pensioners' Quarter he considered taking a room and looking for honest work, but there were few jobs to be had, and where he could give no references he was eyed with suspicion. All too often he found himself attracting the attention of the Emperor's Watch; in fact, he seemed to draw more interest from atop the watchmen's arches when he was looking for work than when he was swindling or stealing.

All the same, he could have left the quarter—but he did not. He found something appealing in the rawness of his new life, and more important, he felt as if he could contribute more to his neighbors in the quarter than he could elsewhere. Just as he learned the skills of the underworld from them, he did his best to teach them what he could of history, manners, and grammar, and whatever else he thought might prove useful.

He told himself that by bringing money to the quarter through his deceits, he made it that much less necessary for the others to resort to violence or the destruction of property. Every penny he brought in by trickery was a penny that was not taken at knifepoint, or by breaking a shop window.

His facility with paper and pen proved unexpectedly valuable; few of the inhabitants of the quarter could read or write, while Anrel was fluent not only in Walasian, but in the written form of the Old Imperial tongue, and he could get by in Ermetian, Quandish, and several other dialects. He taught anyone who wanted to learn the basics of literacy, but he also discovered and carefully developed a knack for forgery, and often found himself drafting false documents of one sort or another for his neighbors.

He learned to fight, with his fists, his feet, a knife, or a staff, or any combination of those.

His bleached hair grew out, and his natural coloring returned. Quite aside from any concerns with warmth or fashion, his new hat was needed to conceal this unseemly situation until the growth was sufficient to trim off the blond ends without leaving him bald.

And though he never mentioned it to Doz, he took lessons in magic from some of the witches living in the quarter. Not all of the witches of Lume dwelled among the city's castoffs; most had managed to maintain respectable addresses. A few, though, had been driven from their homes for one reason or another, and had eventually found themselves in the Pensioners' Quarter, where their services were in much demand, and where Anrel could receive occasional clandestine instruction in the arcane arts. These women, regardless of age, were generally happy to trade their knowledge for a few pence and a little flattery from a charming young man.

There were no male witches in the quarter save himself, or at least none who admitted to their status.

Anrel kept himself busy. He did so in part because there was so much to be learned, and the need to earn money for the people of the Pensioners' Quarter was so acute, but also in large part to distract himself from what he had lost. Building a new life kept himself from grieving too greatly for the loss of the old.

Most of all he missed Tazia Lir. Theirs had not been a great burning storybook passion, but in their time together she had become a comforting presence. Her warmth, her common sense, her beauty, and her admiration for Anrel had made her presence a pleasure like none Anrel had known before. He had intended to ask for her hand in marriage, but Reva's arrest had put those plans in abeyance, and Reva's death had snuffed them out. Tazia's absence left a hole in Anrel's life, a void that nothing seemed able to fill.