‘He ain’t here.’
The man sitting behind the reception desk was heavyset and balding extensively. His arms were tattooed- fish and birds and ladies danced around barrel-shaped ships that blew smoke and sparks from their smokestacks. He was sitting with his side towards the door, not even gracing Jay with one glance.
‘Who?’ said Jay, taken aback by the question.
‘Your father, or sweetheart, or brother, who the hell cares? He ain’t here.’
Jay pursed her lips. After another week or so, when she was starting to get used to being on her own again, a message came. ‘The Clockwork Whaler. Dockyard. Early tomorrow morning’ and nothing else. Jay was full of mixed feelings. Her heart was leaping like a rat prodded with a sharp stick. She thought to ignore the message. Then she thought again. She felt resentful but then she knew that Lethe owed her nothing. Not even explanations. And finally, why would he want to meet there, during the day nonetheless?
The Clockwork Whaler turned out to be an inn. It was an old place that leaned forward, like it wanted to hug the street that ran alongside the river docks. Both floors were made out of wood and the planks so weathered that no one could tell what kind of timber they were made of. Inside it turned out to be that kind of place where you’d get lodgings under one of two circumstances: you were a sailor between ships or a person that gives their name as ‘Smith’ and puts two coins on the register before signing their name. And the man behind the reception desk was just that kind of man who would take the two coins and not ask anything more.
‘The kid’s here for me’ Lethe emerged from the side doorway.
The man looked in Lethe’s direction briefly and then at Jay.
‘Yeah, so he’s nobody’s father or brother for sure and most certainly not a sweetheart. What is it that you’re into now, Lethe?’
‘Oh blow-off Mort.’
The man laughed loudly.
‘Don’t mind this asshole’ said Lethe. ‘Come on kid.’
Lethe lead her through a door to the side into a bar room. It was empty at this time of the day, when the residents of the inn were sleeping off whatever happened last night and the rest of the patrons went home hours ago. The fire was almost out on the grate in the corner and the pale light of a cloudy morning was barely penetrating through the dirty windows. It smelled of spoiled beer and sweat. Behind the counter a girl, not much older than Jay, was dozing off on her chair but woke up when they approached the counter. Lethe showed two fingers to her and the girl sprang to life. She filled two tankards with beer and put them on the counter for Lethe and Jay to take.
‘Thanks’ said Jay.
‘Don’t bother’ said Lethe. ‘Ann’s deaf. Or maybe mute. Either way she won’t give out a pip and that’s what I like about her. Come along, there is much to say.’
The girl smiled at Jay and went back to dozing off.
‘Will you tell me where you’ve been?’ asked Jay when they sat down at a table next to the dying fire.
Lethe forded his arms and leaned back.
‘I was over the sea, lived in a golden palace, drank spiced wines and fucked Abrecari maidens’ he scoffed. ‘I was working. Where you thought I been?’
Jay tightened her mouth in response.
‘What? Don’t tell me that you can’t manage without me for a few days.’
‘Weeks’ said Jay. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’
‘And leave the charming city of Arklington, with its rats and mud and nosy street kids? Eh, maybe one day. But that day is not today. Here is to this stinking hole of a city’ Lethe laughed and gulped down half a beer in one go.
Jay smiled weakly.
‘Alright, listen kid’ Lethe leaned over the table. ‘Now for the real business. And this is it.’
He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a much mangled poster. He placed it flat on the table and pushed towards Jay.
Jay looked at it briefly, hoping that there would at least be a sketch of whatever this poster was about. There was none. She looked away without a word, giving all the attention to her beer.
‘What? Don’t tell me I need to teach you how to read too’ groaned Lethe and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Alright, alright don’t make faces. Listen.’
He picked up the poster and started to read:
‘We, by the grace of the Lord and Lady, king of Adania, steward of Donmouth Lowlands, yadda, yadda, yadda…place the honour of welcoming the newly appointed ambassador to the Abrecari empire, His Royal Highness Prince Aimar, protector of Silvereach, blah, blah, blah…; to the Duke of Kingston. In honour of the Prince, a feast is announced with music and gaiety on the day of St. Listener. Therefore the trade masters of those are being called upon for the occasion to be prepared, blah, blah blah. The rest just says what kind of people should show up to cater to the whole shindig, rather unimportant to us.’
Jay tried to follow the announcement but couldn’t gather how a party for some Abrecari prince newly arriving in Arklington was of any use to the two of them. Jay knew about politics, namely she knew two things: the name of the current King and that the matters of the Kingdom might as well bel the matters of Gods- as distant and inexplicable as that.
‘You don’t get it do you?’
Jay shook her head.
‘Long story short- there is going to be revelry, merrymaking and a shit-ton of carousing. All of it done by the biggest, richest and most influential bastards in the realm. All in one place. All drunk or busy chasing kitchen maids. Now you’re getting it?’
‘You want to hit the party?’
‘Damn straight kid.’
Jay tried to wrap her head around the idea. Robbing a party? A party full of rich nobles, and their servants and their guards.
‘But it’s going to be full of people!’ Jay finally found the words to express herself. ‘How do you even start?’
‘Have you seen the Duke’s town residence?’
Jay had to admit that she hadn’t. She didn’t think she was even in the vicinity of it. It was in the part of town she had never been to. If she tried to pass by it, the guards would have immediately spotted her and made sure she knew she wasn’t welcomed.
‘Well I had. I spent the last few weeks casing that joint. And what a joint that is! It’s less of a town residence and more like an entire street. Each of ‘Our Graces’ attending will have rooms of their own so they can haul their drunken ass there come pale sunrise. And that means it will be empty until then, but still filled with whatever trinkets they can’t live without even for a day.’
‘And the servants?’ Jay said. ‘Them nobles won’t come without servants anywhere.’
‘True. But what would servants to the flower of the nobility be doing when said flower will be busy boozing and fucking?’
Jay shrugged.
‘The same of course!’ said Lethe. ‘On a smaller scale, but I assure you they won’t miss the opportunity to have some fun as well.’
‘That leaves guards.’
‘Yes that leaves guards. But those can be…convinced to not make any stink.’
‘Wait’ said Jay. ‘You said that the feast is to be on St. Listener Day? That’s in two days!’
‘So it is. But what did I tell you I was doing?’
‘Working…’
‘And that means I have everything prepared. Sit here, drink your beer and listen.’
Jay sat there, nursing her tankard as Lethe explained the plan, drawing plans on old scraps of paper with a lead pencil. He really did prepare and Jay tried her best to remember every entry point, every escape route, every hidey-hole. She traced her finger over the plans, room layouts and sketches of the corridors.
‘How did you get a map of the inside?’ she asked, looking at a rough drawing of a gallery of some sort.
‘It might come as a surprise to you, but not all servants love their masters. And some of those are more than happy to give you what you need if you ask nicely. Very nicely with some shining coins doing all the asking. ‘
Jay looked through the papers again. She never expected that a simple act of stealing would involve all of…that.
‘You memorise as much of those that you can and be ready for the night after tomorrow. Got it?’
Jay nodded.
‘Oh, and one more thing. This is serious business, not taking a jar of honey from your local Auntie Mathilda Corner Shop. Remember to bring a weapon.’
‘A… weapon?’
‘Yeah, what? Don’t tell me you walk the street with nothing under your petticoats but a pair of knickers?’
Jay pondered. At her shack she still had the rusty pipe she beat up Ludd the Nosebleed. But this was too unwieldy to carry around and impossible to hide under her clothes. The only other thing she had was her knife. Or at least it could be called a knife if you only squinted hard enough while looking at it. Once she found a dull piece of flat iron in the gutter, no longer than her palm. She spent many days rubbing it over a rough, stone marker post. Each day it became a little bit flatter and a little bit sharper while it travelled over the abrasive face of the post. And when one side was sharp enough to cut through oilskin and rope, she wrapped the other end with old cloth and tied around with string. This tool-cum-blade she now put in front of Lethe, the iron too dark to reflect the weak light that came through the windows.
Lethe looked at it as if it was a slimy worm, his face flushing with a deeper shade of green.
‘Well that’s it’ he said, rising from his seat. ‘Finish your beer, we’re going.’
Somewhere from the corner he pulled his ratty cloak and a pair of gloves, the same ones he always used when walking around during the day. He pulled up his hood and slowly, he made his way towards the door.
Jay gulped down whatever was still in her tankard, grabbed her knife from the table and rushed after him. The cold wind blew into her face as she stepped outside. The day did not improve at all since morning.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, taking his arm as always when they walked together. Their ‘grandfather and granddaughter’ act seemed to work wonders at mixing-in with the city crowds.
‘Shopping’ he said. ‘I am not taking you with me if you only have that lousy shiv on you.’
They continued down the docks watching under their feet for the places where puddles extended onto the walk boards and soaked the walkways with the stench of fish and dead riverweed.
The docks were crowded, with barely any space to make your way. Piles of crates and boxes of all sizes and shapes waited their turn to go inland or be taken over the river and across the sea. The carts, both empty and loaded with goods, waded in muddy streets, adding brown sprays to the dampness of the air. Small boats and larger vessels heaved their wet decks next to the quay, creaking their timbers and iron rails, pulling their ropes like impatient oxen. A mixed group of longshoremen and longshorewomen passed them, hurrying to a vessel that had just docked, lining in front of the gangway and waiting to unload the cargo. Another group was just a few meters away, tending to a crate that split against the stone quay, swearing in a manner that made even the sailors blush as they looked over their ship’s railings at the mess of broken wood and pottery. Somewhere at the end of the quay there was a wooden crane moored into the stones by iron rivets thicker than Jay herself. A magically-driven engine was fitted into a wooden frame at its base. The thumping of the pistons and sizzling of the mystical energy could be heard all along the docks as steam rose from its boiler. For a moment Jay thought that it might explode but then she realized it was just the rain that evaporated at the touch of the engine’s overheated body. The engine was in the process of winding thick steel cables attached to a hull of a ship, pulling its stern out of the water so the men in a boat below could work on the broken propeller.
‘Raise it higher, higher I say’ the man in the boat was calling out to the engine operator. ‘Pull the bastard higher!’
‘Stop gawking’ mumbled Lethe from under his hood. ‘We’re turning here.’
They passed between two buildings and into an alleyway, leading away from the docks and towards the industrial part of the city. They passed a couple of streets, with the entrances to various warehouses and workshops and Jay started to realize that she knew where they were. They were nearing the place where she went with Lethe the day they met. And soon enough they arrived at the gateway, the one that was so unassuming a random passer-by wouldn’t pay it any attention.
They entered the courtyard and Lethe chose the door at the farthest end of it. They entered the dark interior and Jay realized that they were in a very ordinary, even shabby hardware shop. There were boxes of nails, brackets and various carpentry findings stacked on the floor. Sheets of metal were leaning against the walls and one side of the place was completely overtaken by metal tongs, files, hammers, drills and other tools. The entire place smelled of dust, iron fillings and hot metal. The last smell was coming from the small forge that was set up in the bay of the window since it was the corner that got the most light. The forge was magic-fired and smokeless, but one could feel the immense heat that was radiating from the energy that dripped on the steel rods that were placed in its hearth. A broad-shouldered young man was working the anvil, hammering something that might at one point become a stirrup. His dark hair was plastered to his head by sweat that ran down his brow.
The man took his eyes away from the anvil to look at the two of them. Lethe straightened his back and pulled down his hood. The man looked at Lethe’s unmistakably Kou face and nodded.
‘I’m going to get my mother’ he said without batting an eyelid. He disappeared out back and Jay could hear a muffled conversation coming through the thin wooden door.
‘Mother’ turned out to be a tall, dark-haired woman with a face marked by a long scar running from the tip of her chin to her ear. Multiple scars marked her bare arms too, squiggling like white worms.
‘Mister Green’ she bellowed, making Jay’s ears ring. ‘Always good to see a paying customer! What can I get ya?’
‘Mistress Brigfen’ Lethe showed his teeth with a nasty smile. ‘We want to see your specialty.’
The woman motioned them to follow but not before Jay noticed her narrow eyes darting to herself and then to Lethe. He nodded slightly at the woman, in a reassuring manner. Jay knew that she was only accepted here because Lethe was vouching.
Past the door there was a small back room that opened to a small yard. The place was much colder than the front of the shop on account of the courtyard exit not having a door fitted into the frame. The yard beyond was walled in, small and paved with red bricks. Some strange contraption was put there, covered by thick oilskin.
Brigfen moved to the side towards a heavy table cobbled together from tightly fitting planks. She pulled some rags and tools aside and ran her fingers against the edge of the table. To Jay’s surprise, the top of the table popped open and she could now see that the table was not a table at all, but a multi-tiered chest. Jay peeked inside the chest, but could see nothing but sheets of oil-soaked cloth. Only when the woman removed the cloth was Jay able to see what really was in this strange chest.
Daggers. The unusual chest was full of daggers. But those were not the kind one would be able to buy at any weaponsmith. Not the elegant and straightforward blades that a nobleman would wear at his belt for protection or as a parry arm for a duel. Neither were those sturdy but simple soldier’s daggers that one would carry into battle and give a merciful thrust into the throat of a downed foe. Those were tools of someone who needed to keep it concealed, vicious blades full of curves and serrations. Some had ridges to trap the opponent’s blade and break it. Others had shallow grooves for easy application of a deadly poison. A few had been made of dark steel that would not gleam in light while others had runes inlaid either in blade or in hilt, glowing menacingly with magic. All had their handles bound and ready, just waiting for someone to pick them up and sink their blades into the flesh of an unsuspecting victim. Everything about them was illegal, the make, the shape, the poison-ready receptacles. Those were weapons no weaponsmith guild would ever approve or sell.
Jay stared. The daggers seemed to her like teeth of a monstrous beast, foreboding and deadly. But at the same time she couldn’t avert her eyes, fascinated with the multitude of designs.
‘Hmm what should we start with?’ Lethe bent over the display. ‘I doubt you’d be doing much parrying or sword breaking for now. Try this one.’
He handed Jay a smooth, curved blade with a sharp point and wide, flat pommel.
‘Might be too heavy though’ he said, seeing Jay holding it tentatively. Her hands were narrower than his, making the handle too long for her.
‘Try this one’ he said. The dagger he put in her hand was shorter and the point thicker, the leather-bound handle was shorter too and was sitting in her hand much easier.
‘Mind if we torture Tony for a bit? I want to see if she can handle this one’ said Lethe to Brigfen.
‘Be my guest’ she said. ‘Call me when you need me.’
Jay looked at the both of them alarmed. ‘Torture Tony’? Was a man bound here somewhere, just to test daggers Brigfen’s customers were about to buy? This place might sell illegal weapons but surely they wouldn’t just have someone to stab stuff somewhere in here?
‘Uh, I don’t think-‘ she started to say, but Lethe paid no attention. Instead, he passed through the doorless frame into the yard and tugged on the oilskin. Jay almost bit her lip, expecting a cage. But under the wrap there was a dummy, something that you’d see in a window of an expensive tailor or a high-end clothing store. But this one was heavily padded with cloth and wore a much fatigued gambeson instead of a fancy doublet or dress. On top of the dummy sat a bag of sand, attached to the body with leather straps and nails, pretending to be a head.
‘Kid, meet Tony the Training Dummy’ said Lethe. ‘Now stab him.’
Jay shifted, relieved that there is no actual person she’d have to stab. Although she was more used to slashing with her little shiv, since it had no proper point, she pulled her hand back and thrust the dagger with all her might. She aimed low on where Tony would have his belly if he was a real person. She felt the tip making contact with the gambeson…and almost dropped the dagger when her hand bounced back. Jay felt her face flushing.
‘Yeah. You probably won’t be doing much thrusting either’ said Lethe, just barely cracking a smile. ‘At least not with anyone wearing any kind of armour. Try slashing.’
Now Jay felt a bit more confident. She took a swing and slashed diagonally. This time she felt the fabric parting a bit and some sand dribbled from where Tony’s chin would be. Tony was as tall as a fully-grown man and even though Jay aimed for his eyes it was a bit too far for her to reach fully.
‘Better’ said Lethe, now leaning against the yard’s wall, seemingly entertained. ‘Now show me how you deal with somebody with their back to you.’
‘With…their back to me?‘ repeated Jay. She knew how it went down in the Drowns. The drunken knife fights in front of The Magic Lamp, the back alley deals that turned bloody within seconds and everything that lies in between. She herself slashed plenty of knuckles of those who would take whatever they wouldn’t pay for as well as the sharp snouts of rats that came after the little food that she had. But surely someone with their back to her wouldn’t be a threat?
‘What? You suddenly grew a conscience?’
Jay didn’t respond at all. She turned the handle of the dagger in her hand, feeling the drizzle seeping between her fingers.
Without a warning, Lethe sprang to his feet. With one leap, he was with his knees over Tony’s ‘back’, and his arm around his ‘neck’ pulling the sandbag-head all the way towards himself. A single flash and now Lethe’s dagger was out, raised to strike. The sand flew in the air from the ruptured seams as the dagger bit deep into the dummy. And as soon as it began it was over. Lethe was back at his place over the yard’s wall. The vicious dagger, the one Jay once had the experience to be at the sharp end of, was back in the sheath, poking from behind Lethe’s hip.
‘Listen kid’ said Lethe, wiping rain and sand from his face. ‘AS for me,I don’t care if the job is dirty if it pays well. I’ve been known to take those. Nobody tells you to do that if you don’t want to, though.’
‘But in the end we are what we are and we do what we do’ he continued. Jay could feel the weight of his yellow eyes upon her, drilling for answers. ‘And if there is some poor bastard standing between you and the only way out, what are you going to do?’
‘Between me and the way out? Between me and being caught, between me and Ostrah Gate…or worse?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.’ he kept looking. ‘Where we’re going there might be a lot of those. So I need to know now, can you make a random fucker bleed? If not, then walk away. Go back to stealing bread for the rest of your days. ’
For the rest of her days…Jay never had a luxury to think about the rest of her days. The next day, and the day after that at most. Now Jay could think about what has changed. Since the day she met Lethe all those weeks ago, things have been better, even if he himself wasn’t there. But in the end she will always be stealing food, looking behind her shoulder for a gauntleted hand of a guard to grab her by the shoulder. Was there much choice to begin with?
Jay looked under her feet, deep in thought. The red bricks of the yard were slippery from the drizzle. Just next to her poorly-shod shoe a large cockroach tried to make its way around puddles that were small for Jay, but too big for the little vermin to navigate safely. Jay pushed it away with her toe and the cockroach scurried away, dipping in between the bricks.
‘I’m coming with you Lethe’ she said quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t push her to say anything more.
‘Good’ he said. ‘Now that we understand each other, how about we get off this fucking rain?’
Lethe replaced the oilskin on Tony the Training Dummy and they both returned to the backroom of Brigfen’s workshop. Lethe took the dagger from Jay’s hand and wiped it with a bit of oiled cloth.
‘Mistress Brigfen, we’ll have this one and a sheath. If you have a strap for it too that would be just great.’
Brigfen laughed, her booming voice shuddering on the roof of the backroom. Out of nowhere, she materialized both a metal sheath and a strap that fit the dagger. Then she named her price. Jay scowled and stuck a finger up her ear, thinking that some rain had messed up her hearing. The price was outrageous!
‘You’re nuts Brigfen!’ said Lethe and grunted with displeasure. ‘That’s way too much for just a simple piece of steel like this.’
‘Well Green, this is not a Temple, I work no charity here’ she bellowed back.
As readily as they dropped ‘Mister’ and ‘Mistress’ they dropped the names too and curses flew around mingled with counteroffers as they haggled. She started to refer to Lethe as ‘filth-born Kou scum’ and he rewarded her with ‘cross-eyed, poxed whore’ as Jay watched them with a mixture of fascination and utter incomprehension. She witnessed the best hagglers in the fortnight’s livestock markets and Arklington Central Bazar but those two went at it like it was a matter of honour to weave the most insults in their responses and argue until their breaths lasted.
‘Fine then’ said Lethe a few seconds after they both felt silent. ‘I’ll pay what you ask Mistress Brigfen.’
‘Ah, Mister Green’ boomed Brigfen in response a large smile widening her face. ‘Great customer as always. Return any time, both you and the girl.’
Coins changed hands and soon enough Jay was holding the sheathed dagger. She slipped it under her dress, feeling the coolness of the metal against her thigh. She made sure she could grab it fast enough, but at the same time it stayed concealed from prying eyes.
‘That was loud’ remarked Jay after they left Brigfen and her son to their work.
‘Brigfen? ‘ Lethe shrugged. ‘She likes to shout, but in the end she’ll give you a good price on steel. I guess that’s her idea of a good time, huh.’
They got out of the artisan’s courtyard and walked down the street, slowly heading towards the less industrial parts of town.
‘Lethe?’
‘What?’
‘Thank you.’
‘For what? The dagger?’ he shrugged. ’You’ll need to start getting your own kit soon enough. Might as well as start with this.’
‘No’ Jay rubbed her mouth with the back of her sleeve. ‘For everything.’
Lethe fell silent. Jay expected him to say something sarcastic, but in the end he said nothing for a longer while.
‘All that yapping made me hungry’ he shrugged. ‘There better be something edible in this shithole of a city.’
