T can vouch for Corvaleur's habits, at least," she whispered. "It appears to be her preferred method of irritating her opponents."
"That it did," said Locke. "It was quite a pleasure to see her do herself in."
"I'll grant your story is remotely plausible," said Requin. "I had been… curious about Izmila's strange incapacity."
"Indeed. The woman's built like an Elderglass boathouse. Jerome and I had more empty vials than her side did; what she'd drunk wouldn't have got her eyelashes alone drunk, if not for the powder." "Perhaps. But let's discuss other games. What of Blind Alliances?"
A game of Blind Alliances was played at a circular table with tall, specially designed barriers before each player's hands so that everyone but the person directly across from them (their partner) could see at least some of their cards. Each silent participant set his or her right foot atop the left foot of the person on their right, all around the table, so no player could tap signals to a partner below the table. Partners therefore had to play by instinct and desperate inference, cut off from one another's sight, voice and touch.
"A child's stratagem. Jerome and I had special boots constructed, with iron-shod toes beneath the leather. We could slide our feet carefully out of the backs of them, and the iron would continue to provide the sensation of a full boot to die person beside us. We could tap entire books to one another with the code we've got. Have you ever known anyone to dominate that game as thoroughly as we did?" "You can't be serious." "I can show you the boots."
"Well. You did have an extraordinary run of luck… but what about billiards? You scored a rather famous victory against Lord Landreval. How could you have finessed that? My house provides all the balls, die sticks and the handling."
"Yes, so naturally those three things couldn't be fiddled. I paid Lord Landreval's consulting physiker ten solari for insight into his medical complaints. Turns out he's allergic to lemons. Jerome and I rubbed our necks, cheeks and hands with sliced lemons each night before we played him, and used other oils to mostly cover up the scent. Half an hour in our presence and he'd be so puffed up he could barely see. I'm not sure he ever realized what die problem was."
"You say you won a thousand solari with a few slices of lemon} Nonsense."
"Of course you're right. I asked politely if he'd lend me a thousand solari, and he offered to let us publicly humiliate him at his favourite game out of the kindness of his heart." "Hmmmph."
"How often did Landreval lose before he met Jerome and me? Once in fifty games?" "Lemons. I'll be damned."
"Yes. When you can't cheat the game, you" d best find a means to cheat die player. Given information and preparation, diere's not a player in your "Spire Jerome and I can't dance along like a finger-puppet. Hell, someone with my talents who knew enough about me could probably string me right along, too." "It's a good story, Master Kosta." Requin reached across his desk and took a sip of his wine. "I suppose I can charitably believe at least some of what you claim. I suspected that you and your friend were no more merchant-speculators than I am, but at my tower you may claim to be a duke or a three-headed dragon provided you have solid credit. You certainly did before you stepped into my office this evening. Which brings us only to the most important question of all — why the hell are you telling me this?" "I needed your attention." "You already had it."
"I needed more than that. I needed you to understand my skills and my inclinations."
"And now you have that as well, inasmuch as I accept your story. What exactly do you think that gets you?" "A chance that what I'm going to say next will actually sink in." "Oh?"
"I'm not really here to take your guests for a few thousand solari here and a few thousand solari there, Requin. It's been fun, but it's secondary to my actual goal." Locke spread his hands and smiled apologetically. "I" ve been hired to break into your vault, just as soon as I find a way to haul out everything in it from right under your nose."
3
Requin blinked. "Impossible!" "Inevitable."
"This isn't legerdemain or lemons we're talking about now, Master Kosta. Explain yourself."
"My feet are beginning to hurt," said Locke. "And my throat is somewhat dry."
Requin stared at him, then shrugged. "Selendri. A chair for Master Kosta. And a glass."
Frowning, Selendri turned and took a finely wrought dark wood chair with a thin leather cushion from its place at the wall. She placed it behind Locke, and he settled into it with a smile on his face. She then bustled about behind him for a few moments and returned with a crystal goblet, which she passed to Requin. He picked up the wine bottle and poured a generous stream of red liquid into the goblet. Red liquid? Locke blinked — and then relaxed. Kamekona, the shifting wine, of course. One of the hundreds of Tal Verrar's famous alchemical vintages. Requin passed him the goblet, then sat down atop his desk with his arms folded. "To your health," said Requin. "It needs all the assistance it can get."
Locke took a long sip of the warm wine and allowed himself a few seconds of contemplation. He marvelled at the way the taste of apricots transmuted to the sharper flavour of slightly tart apple in mid-swallow. That sip had been worth twenty volani, if his knowledge of the liquor market was still accurate. He gave a genuinely appreciative nod to Requin, who waved a hand nonchalantly.
"It cannot have escaped your attention, Master Kosta, that my vault is the most secure in Tal Verrar — the single most redundantly protected space in the entire city, in fact, not excepting the private chambers of the Archon himself." Requin tugged at the skintight leather of his right glove with the fingers of his left hand. "Or that it is encased within a structure of pristine Elderglass, and accessible only through several layers of metallurgical and clockwork artifice that are, if I may be permitted to stroke my own breechclout, peerless. Or that half the Priori councillors regard it so highly that they entrust much of their personal fortunes to it."
"Of course," said Locke. "I congratulate you on a very flattering clientele. But your vault doors are guarded by gears, and gears are shaped by men. What one man locks another will sooner or later unlock." "I say again, impossible."
"And I correct you again. Difficult. "Difficult" and "impossible" are cousins often mistaken for one another, with very little in common."
"You have more chance of giving birth to a live hippopotamus," said Requin, "than the best thief alive has of making it past the cordon drawn around my vault. But this is silly — we could sit here all night contrasting cock-lengths. I say mine is five feet long, you say yours is six and shoots fire upon command. Let's hurry back to significant conversation. You admit that cheating the mechanisms of my games is out of the question. My vault is the most secure of all mechanisms; am / therefore the flesh and blood you were presuming to fool?" "It's possible this conversation represents me giving up that hope."
"What does cheating my guests have to do with plotting entry into my vault?"
"Originally," said Locke, "we gamed merely to blend in and cover our observance of your operations. Time passed and we made no progress. The cheating was a lark to make the games more interesting." "My house bores you?"
"Jerome and I are thieves. We've been sharping cards and lifting goods east and west, from here to Camorr and back again, for years. Spinning carousels with the well-heeled is only amusing for so long, and we weren't getting far with our job, so we had to stay amused somehow." "Job. Yes, you said you were hired to come here. Elaborate."