It was a good plan. Unfortunately, Tamas didn’t cooperate. As soon as I moved in, he stepped back and away to my right, out of dagger range. At the same time, he lashed out with the rope. There was no time for me to get out of the way, so I put my dagger out to try to catch the attack. I missed.
The cord caught me along the left arm and swung around to connect with my back. I heard three soft pops, felt three sharp points of pain where the rope hit.
It was as bad as I’d feared-there were runes tied into the knots.
I leapt back, flicking a cut at his face with my sword to keep him from following. He blocked the feint, then smiled. Three of the knots on his rope were smoking and glowing like embers.
I realized I had been only half wrong when I suspected him of being a Mouth up in my rooms. The only problem was, this was worse. He didn’t have to say a thing to make the magic work-all he had to do was hit me.
I switched to a more traditional guard, right hand before me, weight back, rapier held just above waist level. I turned my body sideways and let my left arm drop down behind me, ready to throw the dagger underhand across my body.
Or so I wanted him to think. Truth be told, my left arm was already beginning to feel numb from the runes. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to keep hold of the dagger, let alone throw it.
The rope was spinning in Tamas’s hand again. He beat my blade with his own once, twice, then stepped in, trying for the bind. At the same time, the cord snaked out again, heading for my groin.
I tried to disengage my rapier from his attack by bringing its tip underneath his and back in line between us. I needed the sword to block the rope. I had no idea if the steel could stand up to his magic, but it seemed as good a time as any to find out. The question quickly became academic, though. My sword didn’t make it around in time, and I barely managed to bring my left hand forward to catch the tip of the rope across the knuckles.
Pop. Pain. My dagger fell to the street.
I withdrew again. My disengage had worked well enough that I was in position to slip by his blade and score a light chest slash on the way out.
Tamas rolled his shoulders once and kept smiling.
I took another step back. There was an alley near my left now.
Someone yelled for the Watch from down the street. The sound of our steel had raised the alarm. Knowing the local Rags, they would arrive in time to find a few spots of blood on the cobbles and scratch their heads. After all, that was what Nicco paid them to do.
I feinted at Tamas’s head, then dropped into a crouch and went for his groin when he moved to parry. He swung the rope at the same time. The cord passed over my head. I missed his crotch by a finger’s breadth, my point passing between his legs.
“You fight better than you dust,” I said as I scrambled upright and back into guard.
Tamas pushed his lower lip out in a dismissive manner. “You got lucky.”
It was my turn to shrug. I backed away again.
“Trying for the alley?” he asked, following my retreat. Before I could answer, Tamas swung the rope at the side of my head, forcing me to my right. At the same time, he stepped to his own right, placing himself between me and the alley mouth.
Tamas tsked.
“And here you’re supposed to be such a Boman Prig,” he said, shaking his head in mock pity. “I didn’t think you’d be so easy to beat.”
“Finish it,” I said.
Tamas swung his rope faster. “With pleasure.”
I smiled. “I wasn’t talking to you, Blade.”
I’ll say this: He was quick. Tamas was already turning when one of my Oaks stepped from the alley and ran him through. The rope was still spinning when he hit the ground.
I let my guard drop and tried to make a fist with my left hand. The entire arm just hung there, limp and full of pain.
“What the hell were you waiting for?” I snapped.
The Oak, a big stone-faced cove named Scratch, put his foot on the body and wrenched his blade free. “Just got here,” he said.
“What the hell do you mean, you just got here?”
“Ran my ass off from my post over there,” he said, pointing at a roof halfway down the street. “Alley was faster, so I came out here.”
“Then who was supposed to be here?”
Scratch wrinkled his nose and moved a step away from me. “Roma.”
“Where is she?”
Scratch shrugged.
“Signal Fowler,” I said.
“Expect she’s already coming.”
“Just do it.”
Scratch let out a long, wavering whistle as I knelt down next to Tamas. Bloody bubbles were coming from where the sword had exited the front of his chest. His eyes were half closed, already glazing over. He wouldn’t be answering any questions.
I gave the Blade a quick roll, coming up with a handful of hawks, two more daggers, and not much else. I left the cutlery, tossed the coins to Scratch, and looped the rope into a coil on the ground, careful not to touch any of the knots. I could already feel the results of my trip down the stairs coming back, now that the excitement was over.
“Get rid of him,” I said, standing, rope held between my thumb and forefinger. Scratch picked up Tamas’s sword, stuffed it through the man’s belt, and dragged the whole mess away.
I headed back to the shop. Eppyris was waiting in the doorway to his family’s apartments, framed by candlelight from behind. The light burned my night vision, bringing tears to my eyes. I wanted to look away, toward the cooling, dark shadows of the ground; instead, I stared straight ahead and gritted my teeth.
Eppyris remained silent as I walked up. Straightbacked, square-shouldered, with a hard jaw and high forehead, Eppyris is one of those men who comes across taller than he actually is. In truth, he barely has three hands on me, but, between his iron posture on the outside and solid demeanor within, it’s hard to see him as a little man.
Behind him, I could hear Cosima’s voice, talking softly to their two girls.
“Something for the pain,” I said. I was wincing with every step now, and limping every other. “Lots of something.”
He nodded once. “In the shop. We’ll talk there.”
Before I could answer, he had shut the door in my face.
It was shaping up to be a wonderful evening all the way around.
I blinked in the semidarkness, waiting for my eyes to recover from Eppyris’s candle. I knew if I concentrated hard enough, I could hasten the recovery, but I just didn’t have the will right now. Instead, I walked over to the stairs.
There was laundry everywhere. I bent down, picked up the laundry basket, and looked at the knife lodged in it.
A throat cleared itself behind me. I turned to find Fowler Jess standing in the arched doorway to the street.
“Let me start,” she said, “by saying that I don’t know how he got in.”
“Through the door you’re standing in, I imagine,” I said, setting the basket down. “Funny thing is, someone’s supposed to be watching that door.”
The Oak Mistress put her hands behind her back and looked up at me from beneath blond brows. She had a thick, flowing mane to match, but right now it was tied back and hidden beneath a floppy green cap. The cap was big, making her delicate face and fine shoulders seem even smaller than usual. A bit of dirty lace showed at her neck, escaping from beneath the green doublet she wore. Her skirt was a deep brown, but beneath it, I knew, were green stockings. She was all of nineteen summers, maybe, and if I weren’t so furious, I would have taken her upstairs right then.
“We never saw him,” she said.
“ ‘We’?”
“All right, I. But I was on rover, so I can’t be sure. Sylos was watching the front. I’ll check with him and see what the problem was.”