The Thief-Taker's Apprentice by Stephen Deas

The Thief-Taker's Apprentice by Stephen Deas

Author:Stephen Deas
Language: pt
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2010-08-25T22:00:00+00:00


21

ON THE TAKING OF THIEVES

‘So.’ The thief-taker rubbed his hands together. ‘Here we are. Us on the outside, thieves on the inside. What do you suppose we do? Kick down the door and charge through, swords in hand, screaming our heads off?’

Berren made a face. ‘Um?’

‘In some parts of the city, probably once or twice a year,’ said the thief-taker cheerfully, ‘what we do when we meet a door is exactly that. There’s a little trick about throwing a lantern full of oil inside ahead of you, too. The rest of the time, what we do is this.’ He walked up to the front of the shop and rearranged his belt, apparently to make his sword as obvious as possible. Then he waited for a few seconds and banged loudly on the door. Berren tensed, ready to run, but nothing happened. Master Sy didn’t move. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered: ‘Give them plenty of time to have a good look at you, lad. If they don’t want to talk, come back later with a posse of Justicar Kol’s militiamen. But they will. If they don’t, that means they’re not scared of you. If they’re not scared of you, you’ll be a very poor thief-taker.’

Almost as if the people inside had been listening, the door swung open. A portly man with grey hair stood on the threshold. He was clutching an elegantly carved staff made of black wood. Behind him was a gloomy room half shrouded in shadow. Beyond that, through another set of rather cheaper windows, Berren could see sunlight and a yard, and some blurry shapes that were probably a few barrels and a wagon. He could see some movement in the shadows behind the man at the door, too. Men, lurking back in the darkness.

The fat man with the staff smiled a sickly smile that barely made it past his lips. His eyes gleamed with anger. ‘Thief-taker Syannis.’ He leaned on his staff and held out his free hand. ‘It’s been a long time since you came our way. What can I do for you? Nice case of the Sun-king’s red? Or his brandy, perhaps.’ The man with the staff made no move to step aside and let the thief-taker in. Master Sy smiled back and peered past him. Berren sidled sideways, trying to look past as well.

‘Not inviting me in, Barswan?’

‘What is it, thief-taker?’

‘Well, since you’re inquiring as to my taste in wine . . .’ Master Sy reached behind him and rested a hand firmly on Berren’s head. ‘Don’t pry, Berren, it’s rude. We have no interest in whatever business Master Barswan is engaged in back there. Yet.’

The last word came with the crisp edge of a finely honed blade. Berren saw it wasn’t lost on the wine-seller.

‘Wine,’ smiled Master Sy. ‘What’s drawn me to your door, Master Barswan, is a fine Helhex Malmsey. A vintage to which I happen to be particularly partial. One I’ve been looking for for quite some time.



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