Herald of the Storm (29 page)

Steraglio stared at her from time to time. He thought he was doing it when she wouldn’t notice, but she could see him out of the corner of her eye sometimes. He scared her – not that she’d ever admit it. She tried to stay out of his way, or have one of the other blokes around. Burney was big and scary looking but gentle enough. Krupps, with his handsome face and cheeky smile, put her at ease. Quick with a wink and a grin, he’d taken to calling her ‘Sweets’, which Rag really liked. People had rarely made the effort to be nice to her. As time passed she found herself liking Krupps more and more.

Despite the cramped sleeping arrangements, Rag had no complaints. She was beginning to feel like part of the gang. Sometimes Krupps and Burney would even ask her opinion on things – nothing too important, but it made her feel more like she was an equal – one of the boys.

But the best thing was that she no longer had to thieve for coppers to pay for food. The house had a pantry and Krupps made breakfast – eggs and either ham or spiced sausage – every day. With bread and cheese around noon and some kind of broth in the evening, Rag had never eaten so well. A few times she’d stuffed herself so stupid she’d nearly cried with the pain and joy of it.

She didn’t forget those she’d left behind. She missed Chirpy and Migs and Tidge, even Fender if she thought about it really hard, but they were the past now. She had a new crew, a real crew, not just young lads chancing it on the street corners.

Even so, as the days went by and nothing happened, she was beginning to wonder about things. All they seemed to do was sit around and drink. Occasionally Steraglio would open a book, occasionally Krupps would disappear from the house for a while, but other than that they didn’t seem to do much at all. Not that Rag was complaining. It wasn’t her place. They must surely know what they were doing.

After a few days though, they were suddenly in business.

‘Okay, Sweets,’ Krupps said. Rag had just woken up and come down the stairs. They were all sitting there, waiting for her. ‘It’s time to get some work done.’

Krupps was dressed up like a dandy, in clothes Rag had never seen before. He wore a shirt with billowing sleeves, a satin waistcoat and matching britches. Over a chair was a coat made from the same material. He’d slicked back his hair with some kind of balm and he smelled almost sickly sweet. Steraglio was similarly dressed, though he still smelled of stale socks. Burney looked the same as ever, sweaty and heavy.

‘Where we off?’ Rag asked, picking the sleep from her eyes.

‘You’ll find that out soon enough,’ Krupps replied. ‘Now put this on.’

With that he picked up a pile of bright blue silk and threw it in her direction. It wasn’t until Rag caught it and held it up she realised it was a frock.

Rag had never worn a dress before, and she was damned if she was about to start now. Especially one that would make her look like a Verdant Street whore.

‘You lot must be joking if you think I’m putting this on.’

‘We’re not joking, Sweets. And you’ll need to brush that hair of yours as well.’

She stared at them in turn. Their faces confirmed this was no joke.

Back upstairs it took an age to get the dress on but eventually she managed after she’d worked out the difference between front and back. The matching shoes, thankfully, had flat soles – no way she could have walked with the pointy heels the street girls sometimes wore. Her hair proved a challenge, knotted and tangled as it was, but she finally got a comb through it, and came back downstairs.

Krupps smiled. ‘Sweets! You look—’

‘Not a fucking word,’ she snapped, feeling totally stupid.

‘Might have to work on the manners,’ said Steraglio.

‘Is someone going to tell me what all this is for?’ Rag gestured down at the dress, which hung off her like some gaudy sheet.

‘All in good time, Sweets. For now, just get used to looking like a right little lady.’

Fuck that
, she wanted to say,
and fuck this dress
, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d complained enough already.

‘Right then, let’s go,’ said Krupps, opening the door to the house.

As Rag and Steraglio followed him out she asked if Burney was coming too.

‘This needs a bit of subtlety, Sweets. Burney’s no good at that so we’ll be leaving him out for the moment.’

Sounded fair enough. Burney was as subtle as a warhorse.

They moved south across the city, towards its centre, and Rag soon realised where they were going. She needed to keep her mouth shut, not harass them with questions, but she couldn’t stop herself.

‘We’re going to the Crown District,’ she said finally.

‘Very good,’ Steraglio replied. ‘But do you think you can concentrate on looking pretty in that dress and doing less talking?’

Rag wanted to tell him to fuck off, but thought better of it – Krupps wouldn’t always be around to protect her. She wanted to know how they were going to get in, since the Crown District was walled off from the rest of the city, but she guessed she’d find out soon enough.

At one of the wrought iron gates that allowed entry to the district, Krupps signalled for them to stop.

‘Right, let me do the talking. Once we’re in, try to look as natural as possible. Like we belong.’ He glanced at Rag, as though she might find that a struggle. ‘Well … just do your best.’

With that he walked up to the gate. There were three Greencoats standing around idly, but as they approached the men stood to attention. Rag thought the game was up then and there. How would they ever get in? This had been a stupid idea; she looked about as much a toff as she did a cow at calf.

‘All right, mate?’ said one of the Greencoats, reaching forward to shake Krupps by the hand.

‘How’ve you been, Westley?’ Krupps replied.

If Rag was one thing she was quick – quick to see trouble and quick to see coin. As the men shook hands, even though it happened in an instant, she saw a gold crown pass from Krupps’ palm to the Greencoat’s.

‘Mustn’t grumble, my old mate,’ Westley replied, moving to one side and signalling to the other two Greencoats. The iron gate squeaked as they pulled it open, allowing entry to a part of the city Rag had never been in before. This was the Crown District, home to the wealthy and the privileged, and to more riches than Rag could possibly imagine … and she could imagine a lot.

Krupps grinned as he strolled in, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Rag paused on the threshold, knowing it was wrong, knowing she was forbidden from going inside. She just didn’t belong in there – but a firm shove from Steraglio soon changed her mind, and she stumbled through the gate after Krupps.

Once inside, Rag could only marvel at the buildings, their clean, stone-clad fronts, their gleaming windows … the fact that they even had windows. Here and there the pathways were lined with trimmed grass verges decorated with flowers. Even though the blooms were losing their lustre with the approaching autumn, to Rag they still looked beautiful. Here and there stood a bush, expertly trimmed to resemble a bird or a fawn. How long had they taken to craft? And something was strange … It took Rag some time before she realised that this part of the city didn’t stink of rotting food or steaming turds.

The streets did not teem with the great unwashed: there was hardly a soul about. Rag marvelled at so much space for so few people. Those she
did
see seemed to glide, with a grace far removed from the stomping, shifty gait of those in Dockside or Northgate. It was like these people didn’t have a care in the world; wandering aimlessly in their immaculately tailored garb, smelling of perfume and exotic oils … and that was just the men.

‘Close your mouth,’ said Steraglio quietly. ‘You’re gawping at these people like they’re wandering around naked. We’re trying to fit in. You staring like that will only draw attention. We might as well have put a monkey in the dress.’

Rag rallied. They were here to do a job, and she was damned if she’d be the one to cock it up.

‘Do we know where we’re going?’ Steraglio asked, looking more and more agitated the longer they wandered through the wide streets.

‘Calm down,’ Krupps replied. ‘I know exactly where we’re going.’

It was clear Steraglio felt as out of place as Rag. A deep frown creased his severe features and he glanced around like a pullet looking out for a fox.

Before long they came out in a wide, tree lined square. The magnificent lawn in the middle was surrounded by four rows of houses, each protected by spiked iron railings.

‘There we are,’ said Krupps, nodding his head to the house at the far north east of the square. ‘Home of Barnus Juno. Richest spice broker in Steelhaven.’

The house rose up three storeys, but unlike similar sized buildings in other parts of the city its walls were straight, its roof tiled all neat and even.

‘So what do we think?’ Krupps directed his question at Steraglio.

‘We think all the downstairs windows are barred,’ he replied, squinting across the wide, green lawn. ‘What about the back?’

‘No entrance, it backs onto the opera house at the far side.’

‘So we’re left with the front door or the second storey.’

Krupps nodded in agreement. ‘So, Sweets, which is it?’

Rag froze. This was why they’d brought her. This was her job: breaking into some spice merchant’s house. But how?

‘Erm …’

‘I fucking knew it,’ said Steraglio. ‘This was all a waste of fucking time.’

Krupps gave him a dark look, and Steraglio backed down. He walked off across the lawn, mumbling curses to himself.

‘You can get in, can’t you, Sweets?’ Krupps asked. This time his usual gentle tone had the slightest edge.

Rag had to blag this or come clean and tell him she had no idea how to break houses. If she came clean, that was it with the Guild. It was back to the roof of the Bull and pinching for coppers all over again.

She smiled at him, and gave him the wink he’d given her so often.

‘Course I can, Sweets,’ she said mockingly. She was pleased, and more than a little relieved, when her gamble paid off and Krupps smiled back at her.

‘Good girl. So which is it – door or window?’

Rag looked back to the house. She had little experience picking locks. Fender had tried to show her a couple of times, but all she’d done was bend one of his picks and break the other in a padlock. After that he’d not let her near any of his gear again.

‘Window will be easier,’ she said, trying her best to sound like she knew what she was on about.

‘Good. That’s good. We know the layout, so there should be no surprises on the night. Just climb up to the first storey, slip in the window, then come down and let us in the front door. Easy as.’

‘And this Barnus Juno is definitely away is he?’ she said. The last thing she wanted was to break in and find some angry spice merchant waiting for her with a cleaver.

‘He’s in Coppergate. Won’t be back for a week. There’s no one inside … unless of course he left his dog behind.’

‘Fucking what?’ she said, probably a little too loudly.

Krupps laughed. ‘You are so easy to dupe, Sweets. Relax, there’s no dog and no merchant. Just you, us and a pile of money waiting to be taken to its new home.’

‘And we know the Guild are on board with this?’ More questions she knew she shouldn’t be asking, but she just couldn’t help herself.

‘You need to learn a bit of trust,’ Krupps said, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘Would we be mad enough to pull this one without the Guild’s say-so? I know Burney’s dumb and Steraglio’s “fearless”, but I’m not mad. Why would I chance bringing that down on myself?’

That made sense, she supposed. No one wanted to upset the Guild, no matter what the job paid.

‘Are you two done yet?’ said Steraglio, tramping his way back across the manicured lawn.

‘Just about,’ Krupps replied. ‘We’ll need an iron-crow for the window. You can handle an iron can’t you?’ Rag had no idea what an iron-crow was, but she nodded anyway.

‘Right then, now we’ve got that cleared up, let’s go,’ said Steraglio, leading the way back towards the gate and not waiting to see if anyone followed.

Krupps and Rag moved after him, though he led them at a heady pace. It was like the place was judging them, accusing them before they’d even started, and the quicker they left it behind the better. And it was as they turned a corner, nearly at the gate, that they came to a sudden stop, almost walking straight into two sumptuously dressed ladies.

One was tall and slim, her face heavily painted but not enough to fill the scores of wrinkles that lined her flesh. Somehow the powder and paint made her look even older and more grotesque than she already was. The other was much shorter and nearly as wide as she was tall, her ample bosom almost spilling out over the top of her red frock.

Steraglio took a step sideways, frowning his annoyance, and Krupps stepped in before his accomplice could unsettle the women.

‘I do apologise,’ he said, affecting a haughty, yet still charming, air. ‘In our haste we almost blundered into you. Do excuse us.’

The tall woman glanced down her nose in disdain, but her smaller, plumper friend had noticed Rag.

‘Oh, what do we have here?’ she said, her smile bloating her cheeks like a drunkard’s belly. ‘How delightful. And what a pretty dress. Where are you off to with your papa, my dear?’

Rag stared. The woman describing the monstrosity she was wearing as ‘pretty’ had her a bit confused. If she opened her mouth and spoke like the back street cutpurse she was the game was up, so she simply looked on dumbly.

‘I’m afraid my daughter is simple,’ said Krupps, quickly grabbing Rag by the arm. ‘Never been the same since her mother’s passing. Her uncle and I are—’

‘How terribly tragic.’ The fat woman bent down and stroked a hand through Rag’s hair – thank the gods she’d combed it earlier. As she leaned over, her huge breasts almost fell out of her dress. Rag turned her head in disgust.

The second woman took a step forward, peering down her long nose. ‘Yes, terribly tragic. What did you say your names were?’

‘We didn’t,’ said Krupps with a smile.