“You think we should warm them about the snakes?”
Syannis let that stew for a moment. Should he?
Kasmin shrugged. “I'm not saying anything. Bastards woke me up.”
“And now everyone knows what we are, we're probably going to be looking for another place to live.”
“They're the emperor's soldiers, after all. Not likely to be troubled by a few snakes, eh?” Kasmin laughed. There was always a warmth to that. Syannis had grown up listening to Kasmin laugh, once, a long time ago.
A very long time ago. He'd missed that laugh over the years they'd been apart. Even now it wasn't quite the same. Kasmin had a bitterness that never used to be there. All things considered, you couldn't be surprised. Not when a man had lost nearly everything.
And which one of us am I talking about now?
Syannis left the soldiers to it. He dressed and then waited for Kasmin to do the same. He didn't bother locking the door behind them. Not much point. Didn't have anything to steal, and besides, no one would be daft enough to rob a pair of thief-takers, right?
The air in the passage outside smelled of wood-smoke. Behind him, Kasmin was muttering to himself. There wasn't any light, no windows to let in the moon or the stars, but Syannis could have walked from the front door of the Four Horses to his room backwards wearing a blindfold without putting a foot out of place. He didn't just know which boards creaked, he knew each one by their sound, almost as if he knew their names.
He caught a whiff of spirits, sweet and strong. Kasmin's vice. He drank too much, too much for a thief-taker.
Outside there was some sort of commotion across the square. The two soldiers who'd smashed their way into crazy-snake-man's house were coming out again. One of them was almost having to hold the other one up. Above them, crazy-snake-man was still at his window. He was clutching something again. This time it was something long and wriggly.
“This one,” he shouted at them, “this one will paralyse ye and then lay its eggs in your pants and when they hatch, the little ones will eat ye up, bollocks first. It's really slow and hurts like buggery. Yeh, you, you down there. Ye come back any time. And bring a new door with ye when ye do.”
The shutters slammed closed. The first two soldiers fell in behind Syannis and Kasmin. “The Eight,” snapped one, and then they headed over to the two other.
“Temple on Moon Street,” called Syannis. “Teacher Garrent. Tell him I sent you.” He shook his head. “Might help if he knew what snake bit you.”
The shutters flew open again. “Aye, the vicious bollock-eating cobra, that's what bit ye. Tell yer priest that. And don't forget my new door. I got friends I have.”
“Slithery ones,” muttered Kasmin.
Syannis shook his head. He was almost going to miss crazy-snake-man when he had to find somewhere else to live.
4th Sun Day, Month of Floods
No sign of land, no sign of the Dread. Sanct is getting annoying. I tell him we’ll be there when we’re there. We have food and water for a month. What’s the hurry? He doesn’t answer, but there is one. I can see it in his eyes. Something to do with the damn casket. Weather fine, wind strong, veering east.
4th Mage Day, Month of Floods
Can’t admit it to the crew, but the only way to make sense of the Taki charts here is if we’re half a world away from where we’re supposed to be. Storm can’t have blown us that far. Sanct spends more and more time down in the hold now. Old fool is cracking. I don’t know what he’s up to, but it’s creeping even me out. Crew want rid of him and his blasted casket. They blame him for our misfortune. I have to wonder. He’s the one with the gold though, waiting for us in Kurotos. We’ll get there, one way or another. Weather fine, wind strong, veering west now.
4th Moon Day, Month of Floods
Still no sight of land. Have changed course to the north. If the charts are right and we are where they say we are, even though we can’t possibly be there, we should see land tomorrow. If we don’t, Sanct and his casket go overboard. There’ll be no stopping it, gold or no gold. Weather fair, wind falling.
3
The Eight Pillars of Smoke — The Eight as it was known to its regular collection of thief-takers and assorted officers of the courts — lay behind the courthouse, just off Four Winds Square and a half-mile of steadily increasing affluence from the Four Horses. On most days, come midnight, the last drunken dregs would be staggering their way towards the next day's hangover. Tonight there were a lot of faces that looked as though they'd only just got out of bed.
The bald head of Justicar Kol turned and looked up as Syannis and Kasmin entered. Kol beckoned them over. He was holding court tonight, you could see that straight away. Big round table, surrounded by the thief-takers who took his coin. Master Fennis, Master Kakrim, Orimel the witch-breaker. All ones he trusted. Five years ago, Kol had been a thief-taker himself. He knew how it worked, he knew which ones were honest and which ones worked both sides. He knew which ones were brave and which ones were clever and which ones were craven and which ones were stupid. Tonight, by the looks of things, he was going for brave. Which tells me how he sees me and Kasmin, I suppose.
“Right.” Kol thumped the table. “Now you're all finally here we can. .” He stared at Syannis. “Where are my soldiers, Syannis? You were supposed to bring them with you.”
Kasmin answered, grinning. “Got bitten by a snake.”
“What? For the love of. . All of them?”
Kasmin's grin widened. “Just one. Took the other three to carry him. I think he might have swollen up a bit.”
Kol spat. “Yeh. You laugh it up, big man. That's four swords we won't have with us tonight. You make your fun with that while we're on our way down the docks. Right. Anyway. Let's go!” The Justicar brushed past Syannis on his way to the door. As he did, he jingled a purse. “There's an emperor here for any of you fat-arses who can keep up. For those of you who can't, I suggest you find an occupation more suited to your disposition. We've got a ship in the docks that needs a thief-taker or two and it needs it soon. And before any of you lack-wits ask, no it bloody can't wait for morning.”
Outside, down the slope of the Kingsway leading towards the Sea-docks, Kol broke into a run. Not much of one, not in the middle of the night with only the full moon lighting the cobbles and the city dung-boys not due to haul their shit-barrows around again until dawn. But fast enough that he managed not to say much more until they'd reached the bottom of the hill, rounded the warehouses there and spilled out into the docks proper. The docks were quiet, quieter than Syannis had ever seen them, even in the small hours like this. The Justicar trotted out towards the waterfront and his half-dozen thief-takers ran along behind. Syannis caught the way they looked at each other. Questioning. Shaking heads. None of them knew any better what this was about. None of them except maybe the witch-breaker, but then Orimel. . As far as Syannis could tell, Orimel had been hunting witches since the start of the world and nothing bothered him any more. So maybe he didn't know anything either.
Down by the waterfront, across cobbles worn flat and smooth by the endless passage of feet, a gang of dockside militiamen were milling about, waiting beside a pair of longboats. They looked uneasy. Nervous. Anxious. Usually the militia gangs were hard to hold back once they had their blood up. This lot looked like they'd rather be almost anywhere else. Kol reached them and stopped. He turned and held up a purse.