“About seven hundred and fifty pounds of gold,” she said. “I can turn a fair percentage of it into silver without much notice, whenever you require.”
“I … yes, that may indeed be necessary before we’re finished,” said Locke. He felt a strange tug at his heart. He’d taken the vast fortune of the Gentlemen Bastards for granted for so long, and now here was another, set out for his disposal, as though the first had never been lost.
“Is there anyone besides yourselves,” said Tivoli, “that you would wish to have access to these funds?”
“Absolutely not,” said Jean.
“And that’s never to be countermanded,” added Locke. “ Ever.No one else will come on our behalf. Anyone who says otherwise will be lying. Any evidence they produce should be torn up and stuffed down their breeches.”
“We have, from long practice, developed many efficient means of dealing with mischief-makers,” said Tivoli.
“May my associate and I speak privately?” said Locke.
“Of course.” Tivoli stepped out of the cell and pushed the door half-closed. “This door will open from your side at just a touch of the silver lever. Take as long as you require.”
When the door had clattered all the way shut, Jean closed the open chest and sat upon it. “Your guts doing tumbling exercises like mine?”
“I’d never have credited it,” said Locke, running his fingers over the cool wood of another strongbox. “All those years we spent stealing bigger and bigger sums. The money was like a painted backdrop for me. Now that we’ve had a couple fortunes yanked out from under us, though …”
“Yeah,” said Jean. “It seems dearer, somehow. This Tivoli—how far do you suppose we can trust her?”
“I think we can afford to assume the best in her case,” said Locke. “Patience sent us here. Probably means that Sabetha can’t touch our funds at their source, and that hers are equally beyond our reach. This is ammunition for the game. You’d want it kept safe for proper use if you were the magi, wouldn’t you?”
“You’ve saved me some explaining.” The voice was deep, cultured, with a languid Karthani accent, and it came from right behind Locke. He whirled.
A man leaned against the door, about Locke’s age and height, wearing a long coat the color of dried rose petals. His hair and short beard were icy blond. Gloves, breeches, boots, and neck-scarf were all black, without ornament.
“Gods,” said Locke, regaining control of himself. “I would have opened the door for a knock.”
“I didn’t choose to wait,” said the man.
“Well, I don’t need to ask to see the rings on yourwrist,” said Locke. “Who are you, then? With Patience, or against?”
“With. I’ve come for a private word on behalf of all of us you stand to disappoint.”
“We’ve been at work in your interest for about four hours now,” said Locke. “Surely you could wait a day or two before coming it the total asshole? What do you think, Jean?”
“Jean is occupied,” said the stranger.
Locke turned to see Jean with his eyes unfocused and mouth slightly open. Save for the faint rise and fall of his chest, he might have been a well-dressed statue.
“Gods’ truth,” said Locke, turning back to the stranger. “I don’t care who you are, I am tired of talking to you fucking people under circumstances like—”
Before he finished his sentence, he threw a punch. Without betraying any surprise or concern, the mage caught Locke’s fist in one of his gloved hands and struck back, straight to Locke’s midsection. The strength bled from his legs and he went down gasping. The mage retained his hold on Locke’s hand and used it to wrench him around, until he was on his knees facing away from his antagonist.
“Just breathe through the pain,” said the mage, casually. “Even for you, that was arrogant. You’re no threat to anyone in your condition.”
“T-t-Tivoli,” Locke gasped. “Tivoli!”
“Grow up.” The mage knelt behind him, put his left hand on Locke’s jaw, and set the other in a choking hold. Locke kicked and struggled, but the man effortlessly maintained control of Locke’s head and tightened the grip. “She can’t hear you, either.”
“Patience,” hissed Locke. “Patience … will … nggghk …”
“This conversation is never going to be any concern of hers. She isn’t hovering over you like a little cloud. She has people like meto do that for her.”
“Ngggh … ygggh … fghkingggh … bastarrrgh!”
“Yes,” said the mage, loosening his choke at last. Locke coughed and sucked air into his burning lungs. “Yes, I do want for manners, don’t I? And you’re such a gentle saint-like fellow yourself. Are you ready to listen?”
Locke, relieved to be breathing again and deeply ashamed of his weakened state, said nothing.
“The message is this,” continued the mage, taking silence for acquiescence. “We want the contest to be genuine. We want to see you workfor six weeks. If you make peace with that woman and contrive some sort of dumb-show—”
“Patience already warned me,” coughed Locke. “Gods above, you must’ve known that, you tedious piece of shit!”
“It’s one thing to be told, it’s another thing to understand. You’ve got a real entanglement with the woman on the other side. We’d have to be idiots not to allow that you might be tempted.”
“I’ve already promised—”
“Your promises aren’t worth a dead man’s spit, Camorri. So here’s something tangible. Make any arrangement with your redheaded friend to fix this contest, in either direction, and we’ll kill her.”
“You son of a— You can’t—”
“Of course we can. Just as soon as the election is over. We’ll take our time while you watch.”
“The other mages—”
“You think they give a damn about her? The Falconer’s friends? They hired her to vex you. Once the five-year game is over, they’ll be no protection.”
Locke attempted to stumble to his feet, and after a moment the mage yanked him up by the back of his coat. Locke turned, glared, and made a show of dusting himself off.
“It’s no use giving me the evil eye, Lamora. Take the warning to heart. You should be flattered that we understand how useless half-measures are with you.”
“Flattered,” said Locke. “Oh, yeah. Flattered.That’s exactly the word that was on the tip of my tongue. Thanks.”
“The woman is a hostage to your good behavior. You don’t get another reminder. And don’t bother telling Patience about this, either. You’d suffer for it.”
“That all?”
“That’s all the conversation I have in me, friend.”
“Then wake Jean up.”
“He’ll stop daydreaming once I’ve gone.”
“Too chickenshit to say this sort of thing in front of him?”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you,” said the mage, “that the lastthing your partner needs is another one of my kind proving just how helpless he is while he’s awake to bear the disgrace?”
“I …”
“I’m not without my sympathies, Lamora. They just don’t necessarily reside with you. Now mind the job we hired you for.”
With a wave of his hand he was gone. Locke swung his arms around the empty air where the mage had been standing, then patted the nearby wall, then checked to make sure the door was still tightly closed. He gave a grunt of disgusted resignation and massaged his neck.
“Locke? Did you say something?”
Jean was back on his feet, looking hale.
“Uh, no Jean, I’m sorry. I just … uh, coughed.”
“Are you all right?” Jean peered at him over the rims of his optics. “You’re sweating like mad. Did something happen?”
“It’s just … nothing.” Gods above, the red-coated bastard was right. Jean didn’t need another reminder of how casually the magi could make a puppet of him. With Locke barely started on the path to recovery, he needed all of Jean’s confidence and energy, without distraction. “I’m sure it’s just all this walking about. I’ll get used to it again soon enough.”