He took a quick sip from his flagon and nodded to himself. ‘Yeah. Safe. That’s what it was.’
Crake was staring at Ashua in amazement. ‘You know he’s never spoken that much about anything, ever?’
‘Maybe you never bothered asking?’ she said cheerily. She felt rather pleased with herself. No one paid attention to Harkins, except Pinn, who tormented him. Ashua had an affinity for outsiders and underdogs, especially when she’d had a few.
She slapped Harkins on the shoulder and for once he didn’t flinch. ‘Harkins, your idea of happiness sounds like my worst nightmare, but I’ll drink to it anyway.’
They all raised their mugs, and afterwards Harkins looked a little bewildered. But he was smiling, and none of them saw that too often.
She left Harkins with Crake and went to relieve herself, swaying a little as she wound her way through the crowded room. She was feeling good, still on a high from last night’s victory, and there was nothing to concern her in the future. Life on the Ketty Jay had turned out better than expected. She’d bargained her way on board in order to evade her enemies, but she’d always intended to leave when the moment was right. These days, she wondered if she really wanted to.
They were a good lot, in all. She was fond of Malvery and liked Crake, and the others were a decent bunch too, even the Cap’n. She’d pegged him as a bit of a sleaze when they first met, but to her surprise he hadn’t made any advances on her since she’d joined. In fact, she’d warmed to him as a person, against her better instincts.
Careful, she told herself. Don’t get too attached to this crew. You know what’ll happen, sooner or later. What always happens.
Ashua was used to looking out for herself. It was how she’d survived as an orphan child on the bomb-torn streets of Rabban. She made alliances when it suited her and ducked out when things got rough. The only one she’d ever put her trust in was Maddeus Brink, a dissolute aristocrat and drug dealer who’d adopted her in a fit of drunken charity. He’d been like a father to her for many years until, with characteristic callousness, he exiled her from his home and sent her out on her own again.
She learned her lesson from that.
Maddeus, she thought, and a heavy sadness came upon her. Maddeus, rotting in the heat of Shasiith, his poisoned blood killing him slowly as he passed his last weeks in a narcotic haze. Was he dead now? Perhaps. But he’d made his wishes clear, and she had enough respect for him to keep away. Besides, he’d sent her out of Shasiith for her own safety; she wasn’t foolish enough to go back.
Respectable ladies might have found the toilet of the Broken Anchor disgusting, but it took a lot to disgust Ashua. When she was done, she pushed her way out and back into the noisy bar.
‘Ashua Vode?’ said a voice by her side.
She had her pistol out and pressed into the man’s belly in half a heartbeat. Being recognised was rarely good, in her experience.
She didn’t know him. He had a plain, nondescript face, folded and rucked with middle age. But it was his scent that alarmed her. A smoky, woody blend of spices and blossoms. The kind of smell that often clung to rich Samarlan merchants.
It was a smell from Shasiith, from her past. And that meant trouble.
‘I’m no enemy, Miss Vode,’ said the man, calmly. She was standing close to him, her body concealing the weapon in her hand. The other patrons of the bar were oblivious.
‘I’ll decide that,’ she said.
‘I bring news. Jakeley Screed is dead.’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘I assure you it’s not.’
‘Then who are you?’
‘My name is Bargo Ocken. You remember Dager Toyle, of course?’
‘Of course. I also remember that Screed killed him. What’s he to you?’
‘I’m his replacement.’
Ashua stared into his eyes. ‘So you say.’
‘Miss Vode,’ he said levelly. ‘If I wanted to kill you, there are better ways than approaching you in a crowded bar. I don’t work for Screed. I work for the people who killed him.’
She sized him up. He was Vardic, educated, probably from minor nobility by his accent. If the softness of his belly was anything to go by, he wasn’t much of a physical threat.
She put the gun away. Ocken let out a little breath of relief. It was the only sign that he’d been tense at all.
‘Over here,’ he said, gesturing towards a small table tucked in the corner. She followed him, and made him wait while she checked the table and chairs for concealed weapons. Danger had sobered her up fast.
‘You’re very suspicious,’ he observed.
‘So would you be,’ she said. ‘Sit.’
They settled themselves. She regarded him in the dim light of the gas lamps. Night had fallen over the town now, and the windows were dark. She could feel a slight tremor though her legs: the thundering falls nearby.
‘How did he die?’ she asked, as quietly as she could over the noise in the bar.
‘Our people caught up with him. You don’t need to worry about him any more.’
‘The others?’ Ocken gave her a blank look. ‘The others that worked for Dager Toyle,’ she elaborated.
‘I hope you don’t expect me to name names.’
‘Are they all dead?’
‘Not all.’
She drummed her fingers restlessly, thinking over the implications of Ocken’s news, wondering whether to believe him. It had been Screed she’d been hiding from when Frey first encountered her, skulking in a den of drug addicts. Her hired muscle proved to be a useless defence. If Screed had found her before Frey, she’d be dead by now.
‘What do you want with me?’ she asked.
‘I want to resume our relationship,’ said Ocken. ‘Toyle might be dead, but the organisation is not. Cut off a limb’ — he spread his arms as if to say: Here I am — ‘and it grows again.’
She sat back in her chair, never taking her gaze from him. ‘I’ve got a new thing now,’ she said.
‘Yes, the Ketty Jay. I hear they’re doing moderately well these days. Don’t worry. It rather suits our purpose that you stay on the crew. Look on us as, well, something on the side. Insurance. In case it all goes wrong somewhere down the line.’
Ashua thought about that for a time, but in the end she shook her head. ‘You let me down before. Screed wouldn’t have been after me if you hadn’t screwed up.’
‘We understand. You deserve compensation for what you’ve been through. That’s why we intend to treble your retainer.’
That was enough to give her pause. Money had never been the guiding force in Ashua’s life, but it was a lot of money to someone who’d never had much.
‘First payment up front?’ she asked.
‘Naturally. And subsequent payments every quarter-year, for as long as we need you. And as long as you provide what we want.’
Tempting. A little insurance never hurt anyone. And after all, what did she know about what the future held? She might be kicked off the Ketty Jay tomorrow, and then where would she be? She knew from experience that it was naïve to rely on others. They all let you down in the end.
She leaned forward across the table. ‘Keep talking,’ she said, and Ocken smiled.