The Republic of Thieves (85 page)

“The, ah, baron, my master, tripped and fell after the play,” said Locke. “He hurt his ankle quite severely. His, ah, that is, Verena … Verena Gallante is comforting him while we wait for a physiker.”

“Comforting him,” mused Malloria.

“Ahhhhhh,” moaned Jasmer, and there was a slapping noise. “Now,
now, you can keep doing that in a moment. The wine! Fetch the damn wine!”

The door to the steam room burst open, and gray tendrils slithered out into the air of the main room. Sabetha stood there, gown in hand, topless. She pretended to notice Malloria for the first time, half screamed, and wound the dressing gown around herself in a flash. Then she closed the door to the steam room.

“Apologies,” she giggled. “My lord Boulidazi is in need of ministration. And wine.” She snapped her fingers at Galdo, who passed over a tray with the glasses and open bottle.

“Ministration,” smirked Malloria. “I’m sure that’s just what he needs to recover from any … infirmity.”

“Malloria! Is that Malloria?” Locke had to credit Moncraine for his impression of Boulidazi, though perhaps the impresario’s resentment colored the act with a touch too much petulance. “Good, good! Sorry I can’t receive you at the moment. Just wait a bottle or two, there’s a good woman.”

Sabetha slipped back into the steam room with the wine. Muffled giggles and laughter followed.

“Don’t bother with the damn glasses,” yelled Moncraine. “Just give the bottle here. That’s it. I’ll put my lips on this, and as for yours …”

Locke stood at attention against the wall and tried to look profoundly embarrassed. Galdo hung his head and slunk back to a place on the far wall.

Jasmer’s appreciative moaning drifted from the steam room for some time. Malloria’s dark amusement faded into obvious irritation.

“Um,” said Locke, quietly. “I do have my lord’s signet ring.…”

Malloria raised an eyebrow at him.

“That is, he’s entrusted it to me while he’s … occupied. If you wished to—”

“Why not?” she said. “If Lord Boulidazi has no time for me, far be it from me to
presume
upon his attention.”

She set the wooden box down next to the wine and brandy bottles, then unlocked it with a key hung around her neck. She handed a piece of parchment to Locke, who examined it while heating a stick of wax over one of the room’s non-alchemical lamps.

Locke inked a quill and wrote “Received” at the bottom of the chit.
He then gave the document a splash of wax and pressed Boulidazi’s signet into it.

“I’ll need to retrieve the box before tomorrow’s performance,” she said as they waited for the signet imprint to harden.

“Come to Gloriano’s Rooms anytime after sunup,” said Locke. “And, ah, my lord would wish … that is, were he not … distracted—” Locke fumbled two silver coins out of a belt pouch and passed them to her. “Some suitable, ah, gratuity for your trouble.”

And for your silence
, thought Locke. It was a safe bet that here, as in Camorr, the well-off relied on open purses to smooth over their poor behavior. Malloria gratified him by touching the coins to her forehead in salute.

“Appreciated,” she said. “I’ll send a man for the box before noon tomorrow.”

Locke bolted the door behind her, then ran to the steam room and threw the door open. Moncraine swaggered out, drinking from the bottle of wine, followed by Sabetha in her dressing gown and Donker with a haunted expression on his face. They all gathered at the coin box and peered at the contents. Here and there a silver coin gleamed against the copper.

“That’s … more money than I’ve ever seen,” muttered Donker. “Must be pretty heavy.”

“Shit,” said Sabetha. “Donker’s right about that. Where are we going to hide it now that we’ve got it? We can’t have the company members walking around with their pockets jangling. It’ll contradict the story that all the money vanished with Boulidazi.”

“Maybe Mistress Gloriano can hide it,” said Donker.

“I wouldn’t ask her to,” said Locke. “Her place is going to be full of constables once we report Boulidazi’s tragic fire. Some of them might take the place apart out of boredom or thoroughness.”

“I hope you’re not about to suggest that we let you take it out of the city,” said Jasmer.

“Of course not,” said Locke. “All we want is enough to let us get home. The rest is yours, if we can find some way to dole it out in portions that won’t get anyone hanged.”

Moncraine braced himself against the box and stared into its depths for some time. Then he snapped his fingers and grinned.

“Salvard,” he said. “Stay-Awake Salvard! The good solicitor. He’ll hold it at his offices, no questions asked. One of his more discreet services for clients who can’t or won’t trust a countinghouse. There’ll be a fee, of course, but what do we care? I’ll take it myself.”

“And
I’ll
go with,” said Galdo, folding his arms.

“Of course.” Moncraine’s smile nearly reached his ears. “You can carry the box. And someone will need to summon a hired carriage; we can’t walk across the city with the damned thing plainly visible.”

“I’ll take care of that,” said Locke, moving to the front door. “Can the rest of you clean up in here?”

“We should leave a bit of a mess,” said Sabetha, tossing a wineglass into the steaming bath. “Pour some of these bottles into the floor drain. Whoever cleans up will be able to report that Lord Boulidazi must have had a
lot
to drink before he went off to have his … accident.”

“Lovely notion,” said Locke, elated. “Right. Fix this place up. I’ll get a carriage and tell the Aquapyria folk that Boulidazi will be here another hour or so. Let’s have Calo roll off quietly, and we’ll all sneak out and meet up on the next block. Then back to Gloriano’s for the, ah, last scene of this production!”

Not half past the sixth hour of the evening, Calo, Locke, Sabetha, and Donker clattered in a leisurely fashion through the neighborhoods of Espara, plainly dressed and with their theatrical property tarped over. Nobody recognized them or gave them any trouble.

At Gloriano’s, they found the rest of the company safe but for many rampant cases of nerves. As per the plan, they had chased off all the would-be drinking fellows and raconteurs and parasites with the story that they wanted order and sobriety prior to the Penance Day performance, promising a huge debauch afterward. Locke grinned, and immediately huddled in a whispered conference with Jean, Jenora, Alondo, Chantal, Sylvanus, and Bert.

“We’ve done it!” Locke said. “Stay-Awake Salvard will hold the money. Jasmer and Castellano have gone off to leave it with him. You’ll all have to take it slowly, bit by bit. And be sure that Donker gets a full share; he’s what you might call fragile.”

“My cousin’ll find his feet soon enough,” said Alondo. “And I’ll make damn sure he gets his cut.”

A general air of relief swept the room. Although Locke wasn’t relishing the task of dressing Boulidazi’s corpse, and he knew neither of the Gloriano women would appreciate the only obvious location for an all-consuming accidental fire, the worst was past and the rest could wait for the fall of darkness. Jenora’s aunt set to work roasting long strips of marinated beef in her wood-fire hearth. Sylvanus made the acquaintance of a bottle of plonk, and the others relaxed with cups of ale.

Just after the seventh hour of the evening, Galdo burst into the room, covered in sweat and quite alone.

“
I
’
M SORRY
,” Galdo gasped, as soon as they’d all moved to the privacy of the room where they’d unveiled Boulidazi’s corpse that morning. “I’m so sorry! He asked me to make sure the carriage was held. He sounded so damned reasonable, like
we
do, you know? He said that if he had to walk back to the inn he’d strip my hide. He took the box … about fifteen minutes later I lost patience. I went looking for him, and when I asked Salvard’s clerk for Jasmer Moncraine, the man looked at me like I’d been drinking. That’s when I figured it out.”

“Moncraine’s taken the money and buggered us all,” whispered Alondo.

“
Beggared
us all,” said Jenora. “I can’t even … I don’t know what to say. It’s like all the gods are having a long hard laugh at our expense.”

Sylvanus threw his bottle to the ground and buried his face in his hands. No more eloquent commentary was possible, thought Locke, than that a situation would make Sylvanus Olivios Andrassus waste wine.

“I’m a gods-damned fool,” said Galdo. “I should have known.”

“He’s an actor,” said Sabetha. “More’s the pity, a good one.”

“Let’s get after him,” said Calo. “He can’t be dumb enough to have gone to any of the landward gates, the way they’re guarded! He’d be insane to put himself on the roads knowing an alarm was a few hours behind at best. So where would he go?”

“The docks,” said Chantal.

“Well, then, let’s find him and cut off that damn hand he was scheduled to lose! He’s a big old fellow, how hard can it be?”

“We’ve got no standing here,” said Locke. “Remember? We’ve got no right or call to push anyone around; we are
merely actors
so long as we’re in Espara.”

“And you’ll never find him,” said Jenora. “Giacomo’s right, Jasmer won’t go by land. The docks are thick with Syresti and Okanti. He’ll get out on his choice of ships and no nightskin will ever breathe a word of it to the constables. The dockworkers have no cause to love the countess’ servants.”

“So we just … we just let him fuck us!” said Bert. “Is that the plan?”

“No,” said Sabetha. “There’s one thing we can do very easily. We can make it look like Jasmer Moncraine killed Lord Boulidazi.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Locke. “It’ll certainly give the story more weight than Lord Boulidazi getting drunk and setting a stable on fire.”

“A stable!” cried Jenora. “You can’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, Jenora, I know I should have said something sooner. But it’s obvious. We can’t burn the inn down, and we can’t just have him spontaneously combust in the yard. Don’t think of it as losing a stable; think of it as not letting your aunt hang.”

“Castellano, what did you tell the carriage driver after you realized Moncraine was gone?” said Jean.

“I gave him two coppins for his trouble and told him I’d decided to stay awhile,” said Galdo. “I didn’t know what to think. I just didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Well, you’ve saved us by keeping your head,” said Sabetha. “Here’s the new story. After the play, I went with Boulidazi to the bathhouse. Boulidazi received the money from Malloria; she’ll testify to that, and she has her sealed chit to prove it. We claim that we don’t know what Boulidazi did with the money; all we know is that when he came back here to have a talk with Jasmer,
he did not have it with him
.”

“Simple enough so far,” said Chantal.

“Simple is how it stays,” said Locke, looking at Sabetha. “If I can presume … I think I know where Verena’s going next. We
all
saw
Boulidazi come here. We
all
saw Moncraine come here. They had a long private conversation, then an argument. They went out to the stables together for some reason.”

“A few minutes later we noticed the stables on fire,” said Sabetha. “Boulidazi dead in the wreckage and Moncraine vanished into the night. His guilt will be clear even to a child.”

“We’ll need to bring Mistress Gloriano in on this,” said Jean. “I’m sorry, Jenora, I know we meant to keep her out of the lies, but she of all people has to tell the constables that Moncraine and Boulidazi were here tonight.”

“There’s no helping it, Jovanno, you’re right.” She put her arm over Jean’s shoulder. “Auntie won’t be best pleased, but
I
can get her to do anything we need. Don’t worry about her.”

“This is still a miserable mess,” said Chantal. “Boulidazi’s people may yet try to wring every copper they can from us. Maybe even fold the company and take its assets. Hell, that’s assuming the constables don’t just throw us all in the Weeping Tower as assumed accomplices.”

“I think,” said Locke, “that we might just have a friend in a fairly high place. Or, if not a friend, someone with an abiding interest in keeping scandals as subdued as possible.”

“There’s no subduing the fucking murder of an Esparan lord!” said Bert. “Maybe you Camorri will get yourselves off the hook, but the rest of us—”

“No,” said Locke. “We are absolutely
not
abandoning you, any of you. Haven’t we done enough to convince you of our sincerity? And haven’t we pulled off some amazing things together already?”

“Fair enough,” grumbled Bert.

“
Moncraine
fucked us, so we’ll
all
fuck him right back,” said Locke. “And for what he’s done, let me assure you … he’s made an enemy of our master back in Camorr. He must know it. He’s got enough money to live on for a couple of years, but he’ll never be able to stop running. As for the company … I’m sure we can convince our master to lend a hand there as well. He has resources beyond what you’d believe.”

“At this point I’d believe just about anything,” muttered Alondo.

“We’ll rehearse our story together,” said Sabetha. “Almost like a play. After sunset, we’ll dress Boulidazi one last time and arrange the stable fire. Once it’s roaring, members of the company
absolutely
have
to be the ones to go running and fetch the constables. You all have to act surprised and shocked.”

“Shock will be easy,” said Chantal.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Calo eased it open, revealing Mistress Gloriano wiping greasy hands on her apron.

“Meat’s done,” she said cheerfully. “And there’s good boiled rice and some apricots … what? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“You’d better come in and shut the door, Auntie,” said Jenora. “Meat’s not the only thing we’ve got to cook before the night’s over.”

“
I DON
’
T
believe you Camorri,” muttered Mistress Gloriano as she helped carry the shrouded corpse of Gennaro Boulidazi from the wagon to her stables just after dark. “Assuming this would be the first time I’d ever helped make a body disappear!”