Point of Hopes (17 page)

Adriana was waiting by the bar, a glass, not the
usual tankard, in her hand. As he approached, she slid it toward
him, and he took it with a nod of thanks. There was a dram or so of
a clear, sweet-smelling liquor in the bottom of it, and he drained
it with a smile. The fiery liquor, distilled grain spirit with a
strong flavor of mint, burned its way down his throat, and he set
the glass down with a sigh.

“
The next,” Adriana said, “you pay
for.”

“
That’s all right, then,” Eslingen
answered. Menthe was imported from Altheim, and wasn’t cheap there.
He shook his head. “I hope it’s done some good.”

“
Can’t hurt,” Adriana answered.
“Tell me something, Philip, what do your stars say about your
death?”

Eslingen’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a personal
question, surely—or were you planning something I should know
of?”

“
Neither killing nor bedding you,
so get your mind off it,” Adriana said but he could see the color
rise in her dark cheeks. “No, I’m sorry, I know it came out wrong,
but Felis—” She stopped took a breath, looked suddenly younger than
her years. “Anfelis told Mother why she won’t let Felis go, aside
from he’s her only kid. His stars are bad for war, he’s likely to
die by iron.”

Eslingen sighed, the menthe still hot on his tongue.
“Then he’d be a fool to sign on, surely. You’d be surprised how
many of us have those stars, though.” It was an ill-omened thought.
He smiled and said brightly, “I, however, am like to live to a ripe
age, comforting women and men to my last days.”

“
Comfort seems unlikely,” Adriana
retorted and swung back behind the bar. Eslingen watched the
kitchen door close behind her, his smile fading. Returning the
Lucenan boy to his mother could only improve the Old Brown Dog’s
reputation—he hoped. There were a handful of butchers, the
journeyman Paas chief among them, who seemed to go out of their way
to find something bad to say about anything Devynck did.

Eslingen sighed again, suddenly aware that it was
nearing midnight, and turned to survey the thinning crowd in the
taproom. Everything seemed quiet enough, the three soldiers leaning
close over an improvised dice board, Jasanten limping in from the
garden, his crutch loud on the wooden floor, the woman musician who
worked in one of the theaters in Point of Dreams nodding over her
pint and a plate of bread and cheese, and Eslingen hoped that
things would stay that way, at least until tonight’s closing.

Eslingen woke to the sound of someone knocking on his
door. He rolled over, untangling himself from the sheets, and
winced at the sunlight that seeped in through the cracks in the
shutters. He could tell from the quality of the light that it was
well before the second sunrise, and as if to confirm the bad news,
the tower clock sounded. He counted the strokes—eight—before he sat
up, swearing under his breath.

“
Eslingen? You awake?”

Eslingen bit back a profane response, said as
moderately as he was able, “I am now.”

“
There’s a pointsman to see
you.”

“
Seidos’s Horse!” Eslingen
swallowed the rest of the curse. “What in the name of all the gods
does he want with me?”

“
Didn’t say.” The voice was
definitely Loret’s. “Aagte says, will you please come
down?”

Eslingen sighed. He doubted that Devynck had been
that polite—unless of course she was trying to impress the
pointsman—and he swung himself out of bed. “Tell her I’ll be down
as soon as I put some clothes on.”

“
All right,” Loret said, and there
was a little silence. “It’s Rathe,” he added, and Eslingen heard
the sound of his footsteps retreating toward the stairs.

And what in all the hells do I care which pointsman
it is? Eslingen swallowed the comment as pointless, and crossed to
his chest to find clean clothes. His best shirt was sorely in need
of washing, and his second best needed new cuffs and collar, and
the third and fourth best were little better than rags. He made a
face, but shrugged on the second best, hoping the pointsman
wouldn’t notice the frayed fabric and the darned spot below the
collar. He finished dressing, winding his cravat carefully, and
thought that the fall of its ends would hide the worst of it. There
was no time to shave, but he tugged his hair into a loose queue,
and then made his way down the stairs to the tap.

Rathe was standing in the middle of the wide room,
the light of the true sun pouring in through the unshuttered
windows and washing over him, turning his untidy curls to bronze as
he bent his head to note something in his tablets. Devynck stood
opposite him, arms folded across her chest, and the two waiters
were loitering behind the bar, trying to pretend they were doing
something useful. Jasanten, the only one of the lodgers who had his
breakfast at the tavern, as a concession either to past friendship
or to his missing leg, was watching more openly from his table in
the corner.

“—
complaint,” Devynck was saying,
and Eslingen hid a grin. So she was going to go through with her
threat of the night before.

“
Oh, come on, Aagte,” Rathe said,
but kept his tablet out. “Complaint of what? You keep a public
tavern, you can hardly accuse the boy of trespass for coming
here.”

“
Felis Lucenan’s been told more
than once that he’s not welcome here,” Devynck answered. “He comes
around, makes a nuisance of himself—lies to the recruiters when
they’re here, tries to get someone to take him on as a runner. I
told him a moon-month ago not to come back, and last night, well.”
She fixed Rathe with a sudden stare. “I want it on the books, the
times being what they are, that I don’t invite him ”

Rathe grinned showing slightly crooked teeth. “I
can’t say I blame you, at that. All right, I’ll note it down, see
it’s posted on the station books. And I’ll send someone round to
Lucenan’s shop to make sure she knows you want her to keep the boy
at home.”

Devynck made a face, but nodded. “I suppose you have
to do that, not that it’ll win me friends.”

“
Fair’s fair, Aagte. Maybe it’ll
make the boy a little warier, if he knows we’re taking an
interest.” Rathe looked toward the doorway then. “Good morning,
Eslingen.”

“
Morning.” The pointsman had the
look of someone who relished early rising, and Eslingen sighed.
“Though I don’t usually get up till the next sunrise.”

“
I’m sorry” Rathe said without much
sincerity.

“
That was all I wanted with you,
Nico,” Devynck said. “People around here are starting to look
sideways at me, and it’s not my doing.”

“
I know,” Rathe answered. “So does
Monteia. We’re doing what we can.”

Devynck made a face, as though she would say
something else, but visibly thought better of it. “I hope it gets
results,” she said instead, and went back to the kitchen, slamming
the door behind her.

“
So what can I do for you,
pointsman?” Eslingen said after a moment.

Rathe gave another quick grin. “I heard you had
another bit of difficulty last night.”

“
That’s right.” Eslingen took a
breath, preparing himself to launch into the story, and Rathe
lifted a hand, at the same moment folding his tablets.

“
You don’t need to go through it
again unless you want to, I got the bones of it from Adriana. And
Felis is—known to us, as they say in the judiciary. We’ve had this
trouble with him before.”

“
Then what—” Eslingen swallowed his
words, went on more moderately, “What do you need me for,
pointsman?”

“
Why’d I get you out of bed at this
hour?” Rathe asked, disconcertingly, and Eslingen
nodded.

“
Not to put too fine a point on it,
yes.”

“
A couple of reasons,” Rathe
answered, and nodded toward one of the tables by the garden
windows. “I asked Adriana if I could get a bite while I’m here, you
want to join me?”

“
Why not?” Eslingen settled himself
on the nearest of the well worn stools, tilting it so that his back
rested against the cool plaster of the wall. At the moment, the sun
was pleasant on his booted feet, but he knew that within an hour or
two it would be uncomfortably hot. And I should find a cobbler as
well as a seamstress, he added, and shook the thought away. With
things as uncertain as they were in Astreiant right now, it seemed
foolish to spend money on things he didn’t really need.

Rathe perched gracelessly on the stool opposite him,
resting his elbows on the tabletop. “First, I wanted to ask you if
you’d seen or heard anything that might have a bearing on these
missing children.”

“
Why ask me?” Eslingen demanded,
and let his stool fall forward with a thump as Adriana appeared
from the kitchen.

“
Bread and cheese and a good pot of
tea,” she announced. “That’s all we’ve got at the
moment.”

“
It looks lovely,” Eslingen said,
and meant it.

Rathe nodded his agreement, and, to Eslingen’s
surprise, reached into his pocket for his purse, came out with a
handful of copper. “How much?”

Adriana waved away the proffered coins. “No
charge—and not a fee, either.”

“
Aagte’s not going to like it,”
Rathe said.

“
It’s on me, not the house,”
Adriana answered, and winked at Eslingen. “And I won’t say who
for.”

“
Fair enough,” Rathe said, to her
departing back, and slipped the coins back into his purse. He
seemed about to say something more, reached instead for the fat
teapot and the nearer of the cups. “Why ask you—lieutenant,
right?”

“
Right.” Eslingen accepted the cup
of tea, wrapped his hands around the warming pottery. “I’m
practically a stranger here, Rathe.”

“
That’s partly why,” Rathe said,
indistinctly, his mouth full of bread. He swallowed, said more
clearly, “There’s a chance you might notice something a local might
not—someone acting odd, say, when it’s a change that’s happened
slowly enough that everyone else has just gotten used to
it.”

For a wild moment, Eslingen considered blaming the
butcher’s journeyman Paas, but put the thought aside instantly.
“Not a thing, and I wish I had. The neighbors are starting to look
sideways at us, and I can’t find a laundress I’d trust for love nor
money.”

Rathe grinned at that. “I didn’t really think you
had, but it was worth asking.”

“
Then it’s true what they’re
saying—” Eslingen broke off, tardily aware of what he had been
about to say. What the neighborhood gossips were saying was that
the points didn’t have any more idea than anyone else of what was
happening to the children.

“
That we don’t have a clue what’s
happening?” Rathe finished, and Eslingen saw with some relief that
he didn’t seem offended. “It’s no secret. Kids’ve gone missing from
all over the city, and no, there’s nothing in common among them,
and no one’s found a body or seen a child being stolen, for all the
talk of child-thieves. Which brings me to the other reason I’m
here. You’ve heard the rumor that the kids are being taken by
recruiters?”

Eslingen snorted, swallowed a mouthful of bread and
cheese. “Yeah, I’ve heard it. I’ve heard a lot of other tales,
too.”

“
I’m not accusing you or any
soldier,” Rathe said, mildly, and Eslingen grimaced at his own
haste.

“
Sorry. It’s a sore
point.”

Rathe nodded. “I dare say. But my question for you
is, all right, if it’s not recruiters, why not?”

Eslingen stared at him for a minute, wondering where
to begin, and Rathe held up a hand.

“
I’ve never been a soldier, and we
don’t get much soldiers’ business in Point of Hopes. Aagte’s is
about the only tavern that caters to your custom. Now, in other
businesses I know of, children are cheap, cheaper than adults, but
not for you, it seems.”

“
It takes strength to trail a
pike,” Eslingen said, “and height helps, too. The same for a piece,
to stand the recoil. You want a man grown, or woman, or something
close to it.”

“
How old were you when you signed
on?” Rathe asked and Eslingen made a face.

“
Fourteen, but I joined as a
sergeant’s runner. And yes, you don’t need much skill or size—or
anything—for that, but you don’t want dozens of them, either.” He
took a breath. “Besides, there were three royal regiments paid off
a week ago, and the recruiters can have their pick of them. No one
wants kids.” That wasn’t quite true—there were regiments, like the
pioneers Jasanten was recruiting for, that had a bad reputation, or
lacked any reputation at all, that wouldn’t attract any but the
most desperate veterans. Even the most spendthrift wouldn’t need
money yet. He met Rathe’s eyes squarely, and hoped the pointsman
would believe him.

“
There must be jobs an experienced
man wouldn’t take,” Rathe said and Eslingen swore under his breath.
“What about them?”

“
Why don’t you ask Flory, there?”
he asked and heard himself turn sharp and irritable. “He’s
recruiting for a company like that—and it was him who turned the
Lucenan boy down flat, pointsman.”

“
I will,” Rathe answered
imperturbably. “If you’ll introduce me.”

Eslingen sighed let the stool fall again. “Come
on.”

Rathe followed him easily, still carrying his cup of
tea, and Eslingen wished for a moment he’d had the sense to do that
himself. But it made Rathe look as though he rarely got a decent
meal—the crumpled coat, worn to shapelessness over the pointsman’s
leather jerkin, added to that impression—and Eslingen refused to
show himself that needy. Even when he had been close to starving,
years back, he had known better than to betray himself that
way.