Take a Thief (11 page)

They carried him to a door beside the one that led outside— one that Skif hadn't noticed before. Bazie let go of Raf's shoulder, which freed one of his hands, and opened it, and they carried him inside. There was evidently another room there that Skif had no notion existed.

The door swung open enough to see inside. The room was a privy! Skif gaped, then averted his eyes to give Bazie a little privacy— but it wasn't just
any
privy, it was a real water closet, the kind only the rich had, and there was a basin in there as well. The boys shut the door and left their leader in there with the door closed until a little later, when a knock on the 67

Take a Thief

door told he was finished. They carried him back to his usual spot beside the fire, directly under one of the lamps.

"And mornin' t'ye, young'un," Bazie said genially.

"Mornin' Bazie," Skif replied, wondering with all his might just how anyone had gotten a water closet built down here, and where Bazie had gotten the money to do so. And why—

"Skif, ye're low mun now— 'tis yer task t' fetch water fer privy an' all,"

said Bazie, which answered at least the question of where the water for flushing came from. "An' t'will be yer task t' keep it full. Which—" he added pointedly, "—it needs now."

"Yessir," Skif said obediently, and went for the buckets. Well, at least one thing hadn't changed— here he was, fetching water first thing in the morning!

It took about three trips to fill the tank above the privy and the pitcher at the basin, and another trip to fill the water butt that served for everything except the wash boiler. By that time all three boys were up and tidying the room at Bazie's direction. After a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and tea, he ordered them all to strip down and wash off, using the soapy laundry water and old pieces of towel which were dropped back into the wash cauldron when they were done. Then, much to Skif's utter amazement, instead of putting their old clothing on, they all got
new,
clean clothing—smallclothes and all— from the same cupboard as his outfit from yesterday had come out of. Their old clothing went straight into the piles waiting to be washed.

"What's on yer mind, young'un?" Bazie asked as he tried to keep his eyes from bulging.

"D'we— get new duds
ev'ry
day?" he asked, hardly able to believe it.

"D'pends on how hard ye bin workin'," Bazie replied, "But aye, an' it'll be ev' third day at least. Ye're dirty, ye stan' out. Ye canna stan' out— an'

mind wut I tol' ye 'bout
smell.
"

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Take a Thief

Skif minded very well, and he couldn't believe how thorough Bazie was; it was brilliant, really.

"Thas' why yon fancy privy—" Raf said with a chuckle.

"Heh. 'Twas coz
ye
didn' fancy carryin' me t' t'other, up an' down stair,"

Bazie countered, and they both laughed. "But aye, could'a had earth closet, or jest dropped privy down t'sewer 'thout it bein' water closet, but there'd be stink, ye ken, an' that'd be on us an' on t'goods we washed, eh? So we got mun t' put in water closet when' we took't this place."

Raf sighed. "Took a mort'o th' glim, it did," he said wistfully. "Didn' know ye'd saved tha' much, ye ol' skinflint."

"Kep't fer when we needed't," Bazie replied. "Yer wuz liddler nor th'

young'un. Had Ames an' Jodri an' Willem then— an' we made 't up quick enow."

"Wut happened t'
them?
" Skif asked cautiously, fearing to uncover some old, bad news.

But Bazie laughed. "Ames's off! Took't up wi' some travelin' show, run's t'

cup'n'ball lay, liftin' i' th' crowd. Jodri, 'e's on 'is own, took't t' sum place t'South. An' Willem made th' big 'un— got hisself th' big haul, an' smart

'nuff t' say,
thassit.
Bought hisself big 'ouse uv flats, like this'un, on'y in better part uv town, lives i' part an' rents out t'rest. Set fer life." Bazie chuckled, and Skif sighed with relief. If Bazie wasn't lying— and there was no reason to think that he was— then his "pupils" had done well for themselves.

And so should he.

It also spoke well that Bazie was perfectly pleased about their success and didn't begrudge them their independence.

"Nah, young'un, ye did good yestiddy, but 'tis in m'mind that mebbe ye shouldn' be seed fer a bit?" Bazie made a question out of it, and Skif was in total agreement with him.

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Take a Thief

"If th' Guard's got inta it— what wi' th' girl Maisie an' all— mebbe they lookin' fer me," Skif replied. "Ol' Kalchan, well, 'e got hisself in bad deep, an' Guard'll be lookin' fer witness t' whut 'e done. An' ol' Londer,
'e'll
be lookin' fer me t'shet me up."

"No doubt. Mebbe— permanent." Bazie lost that expression of pleasant affability that Skif had become accustomed to. "I know sumthin' uv ol'

Londer, an'— mebbe
'e
wouldn' dirty 'is 'ands personal, but 'e knows plenty as would take a 'int 'bout gettin' ye quiet."

Skif shuddered. He had no doubt about that. " 'F I'm not 'bout, 'e'll let ol'

Kalchan 'ang. Specially 'f Kalchan don' ever wake up. An' 'e'll say, 'e didn'

know nothin' 'bout th' girl, an' no one t' say otherwise."

Londer had three sons, after all. He could afford to lose one.

Hellfires, 'e'll prolly get a girl and breed him a couple more, just t' be on
th' safe side,
Skif thought with disgust. He rather doubted that his uncle's long-dead spouse had enjoyed a love match with the man, for Londer never mentioned or even thought of her so far as he could tell. And Londer wouldn't have any trouble finding another bride either. All he had to do was go down to the neighborhood where the Hollybush had been or one like it, and he could buy himself a wife with a single gold piece. There were dozens of husbands who would sell him their own wives, or their daughters, brothers who would sell sisters, dozens of women who would sell him their own selves.

Well, that was hardly anything Skif could do something about.

"I think ye're gonna be m'laundry maid fer a fortn't or so, young'un," Bazie said. Skif was disappointed by that, of course, but there really wasn't any way around it. He had to agree, himself.
He
didn't want to get picked up by the Guard, and he surely didn't want his uncle looking to keep him quiet. There wasn't going to be any excitement in washing up scarves and veils— but he figured he might as well put a good face on it.

"Nawt s'bad," he replied, as cheerfully as he could. "Don' mind doin'

laundry, 'specially bein' as it's pretty cold out there."

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Take a Thief

Raf, Lyle, and Deek looked pretty pleased over the situation, though.

Well, they should be, since it got them out of hauling water, washing, and taking out whatever trash couldn't be burned.

"Cheer up," Raf said, clapping him on the back. "Bazie's nawt s'bad comp'ny, eh, Bazie? An' 'tis warm enuf in 'ere, real cozy-like. Better nor that there 'Ollybush, eh?"

"Oh, aye, an' 'e ain't 'eerd all me tales yet," Bazie laughed. "So I got an audience wut won' fall asleep on me!"

One by one, the other boys went out to prowl the streets and see what they could filch, leaving Skif alone with Bazie. Little did Skif guess what lay ahead of him when he finished all the chores Bazie set him— including, to his utter shock, washing the stone floor! —and the last of what Bazie referred to as their "piece goods" were hung up on the lines crisscrossing the ceiling to dry.

Lunchtime had come and gone by then, and the boys had flitted in and out, leaving swag behind to be cleaned and mended, when Bazie said, "Right.

Skif, fetch me th' book there— i' th' shelf next t' loaf."

Obediently, Skif went to the set of shelves that held their daily provisions— Bazie never kept much around, because of the rats and mice that couldn't be kept out of a room like this one— and found the book Bazie wanted. It wasn't difficult, since it was the
only
book there, a battered copy of a housewife's compendium of medicines, recipes, and advice lacking a back cover. He brought it over and started to hand it to the old man.

"Nay, nay—" Bazie said. "Sit ye down, 'ere, where light's best, an' read it.

Out loud."

Puzzled, but obedient, Skif opened it to the first page and began to read. It was hardly the most fascinating stuff in the world, but Bazie followed his every word, frowning with concentration as he sounded out a few terms that were unfamiliar to him, and correcting him on the one or two occasions when he didn't say the words quite right.

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"That'll do," Bazie said with satisfaction when he finished the chapter. "Ye read good 'nuff. Na, get ye bit uv charcoal from fire, an' copy out that fust receipt on table."

"On table?" Skif asked, flabbergasted. "That'll make right mess!"

"An' ye kin wash 't off, after," Bazie countered, in a tone that brooked no argument. So Skif fished out a burned bit of stick and did as he was told, with Bazie leaning as far forward as he could to see just how neat Skif's writing was.

"That'll do," he said again, when Skif finished. "Wash that, but don' drop th' charcoal. Ye're gonna do sums."

"Sums?"
Skif squeaked, turning around to stare at the old man.
"Sums?

Wut good're sums gonna do a
thief?
"

"They're gonna make sure ye ain't cheated by fence, tha's wut," Bazie replied, as sternly— no, far
more
sternly— than ever Beel was. "Ye thin'

I'm gonna let ye tak' th' swag t' fence if ye cain't even tell if's cheated ye?

'Ow ye think me other boys did so well, eh? 'Ow ye think Raf an' Lyle an'

Deek knows wut's wut?"

"Aw, Bazie—" Skif wailed.

"An' none uv yer
'aw, Bazie.'
I ain't havin' no boys here wut cain't do th'

bizness. Get th' coal in yer 'and an' sit ye down." The look in Bazie's eye warned Skif that if he argued, he might find himself out on the street, promises or no promises. With a groan, he bent over the scrubbed table, and prepared to reveal the depth of his ignorance.

And it was abysmal. It wasn't long before Bazie called a halt to the proceedings, with Skif wondering the whole time if Bazie wasn't going to reconsider, now that he knew what a dunce his "new boy" was.

"Skif, Skif, Skif," Bazie sighed, looking pained. "Oh, lad— tell me 'ow 'tis summun as smart as ye are got t' be so iggnerent."

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Take a Thief

"I didn' wan' miss me breakfust," Skif said humbly, head hanging in shame. "T' Queen sez ever' young'un whut's still takin' lessons gets breakfust. Niver did like sums, so's easy 'nuff not t' learn 'em."

Silence from Bazie for a moment, then, much to Skif's relief, a chuckle.

"Well, 'tis 'onest 'nuff answer, an' nay so stupid a one," Bazie replied.

"Well, young'un, ye're 'bout t' learn them sums, an' learn 'em t'hard way."

"The hard way," Skif soon learned, was to get them by rote.

Bazie drilled him. And drilled him. And then, when he grew hoarse and Skif thought he
might
be done for the day, at least, Bazie paused only long enough for a mug of hot tea to lubricate his throat and began the drill all over again. Only when Skif was mentally exhausted did Bazie give over, and at that point, Skif was only too pleased to haul water instead of reckoning his four-times table.

Shortly after that, Lyle returned with the makings of dinner and helped Skif put together a satisfying meal of bacon, day-old bread, and apples. As the bacon fried and the bread toasted, the other two appeared with a new lot of loot. Raf brought in more sleeves— this lot was a bit worn and threadbare about the hems, but Bazie examined them and gave it as his opinion that he could make a sort of trim out of some of them that would serve to cover the worn parts, making them look new.

Deek brought back only a couple of scarves and kerchiefs, but a great deal of news for Skif.

"Yer Nuncle Londer's 'angin' 'is boy Kalchan out t' twist on 'is own, which I guess we all figgered," he announced, as Skif and Lyle tucked thick slabs of bacon between two pieces of toasted bread and added mustard before handing them around. "It don' look like ol' Kalchan's gonna be much like hisself, though. Healers say 'is skull wuz fair cracked, an' they figger 'is brains is addled. They reckon 'e'll be good fer nowt but stone pickin' fer 'is life, an' I reckon they'll put 'im out wi' sum farmer or 'tother."

Skif snorted. " 'E wuz no prize anyroad," he countered. "But if 'e's addled, reckon 'e cain't conterdick Nuncle Londer." But it was an odd thought.

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Take a Thief

Kalchan, who never turned his hand to any physical labor if he could help it, eking out the rest of his life in the hard and tedious work of picking stones out of farm fields to make them easier to plow. Such work was endless, or so he'd heard; it seemed that no matter how many stones one dug out of a given field, there were always more working themselves to the surface.

Serves 'im right.
It might not be a punishment that accurately fit the crime, but it suited Skif. His only regret was that, once again, Uncle Londer was going to escape the consequences.

But it don' bother me 'nuff that I wanta go talk t' Guard about it.

The new owner of the Hollybush had already moved his own people in.

The cook was gone, no one knew where, but possibly still in Guard custody. The Hollybush was back in business, but with slightly better food and drink and slightly higher prices, or so Deek's sources had told him.

The new people were a hard-faced woman who acted as cook, and her henpecked husband who managed the drink, and their three grown children. Rumor had it that the two daughters, who acted as serving wenches, could be had for a modest price, plying their trade in the curtained-off alcove that had served Maisie as a sleeping cubby. Given that there were probably no wages being paid to the children, plus the added income brought in by the daughters, the place would probably remain profitable despite higher prices that would drive some customers elsewhere.

What was important to Skif was that there was no point in going back after his meager belongings; by now anyone who was grasping enough to serve as madam to her own daughters would have claimed everything usable for herself.