money.
Not nearly so much as he should be. He has something going, under the
sheets. But the Elders won't hear that. Apparently, the Elect is
supposed to be seen but not heard."
Hecht was lost. "You mean it? This conversion?"
"Of course. I don't want to be anything special. I just want to take
care of my family and do my job. Which is perfect for me. I love it and
I'm good at it."
"I'm confused."
"I'm sorry. My fault for not being clear. You have no idea how
stressful this is. This is the biggest thing I'm ever likely to face."
"Tabill Talab. How will he respond? His father…"
"Is one of the Seven. Yes. That does worry me. But you're going to
lose him before long, anyway."
Not good, Hecht thought. Not good at all. The Devedian connection
had made him look good.
Honed by three decades lived in a city and land that had been old in
the wiles of conspiracy before the beginning of time, Hecht started
sniffing for a whiff of what Consent was really up to.
They resumed moving because Titus was too nervous to stand still.
An arrow, presumably from a longbow, removed Hecht's hat. The shaft
came from amongst the monuments. It missed Consent by a scant inch,
too. It ricocheted off the pavements into the cold brown of the Teragi
River. Bystanders yelled and scattered. Ten thousand pigeons took wing
in a flapping roar.
"You see where that came from?" Hecht demanded.
"No." They crouched at the pediments of a small memorial arch.
Consent held a dagger with a long, slim blade. Hecht had not realized
that the Deve carried any weapon. He carried a short sword himself,
more emblematic of his office than useful in a fight. "Only generally,
that way. Because of where it went."
"Yeah. Who's Galinis Andul?" Hecht tapped the inscription beside his
head, so ancient that it was almost illegible.
Startled, Consent said, "The man who designed the arch. Those guys
grabbed the chance to make their names last. The memorial proclamation
is up top. This one looks like it predates the Old Empire. Meaning it
was moved here by Arember the Hairy."
Hecht wanted to ease Consent's tension, not listen to a lecture.
"Work from cover to cover and flank him from the left. I'll move in
from the right."
He did not expect to find the sniper. There had been no second
shaft. Not that a lone archer could expect to take out a distant target
who was alert.
And the would-be assassin
was
gone. No one had seen an
archer. There was no physical evidence. A sorcerer of exceptional
weight might have found a trail. Hecht did not have one handy.
His amulet had not warned him. The assassin would be nothing but a
skilled archer.
"It was a pretty good shot," Hecht admitted. "At least a hundred
fifty yards. On a breezy day. From in here where the wind would swirl."
"Yes." There was no admiration in Consent's tone. "Who was he after?
Or would it matter, as long as he got someone from Central Staff?"
"Sure you want to convert?"
"Yes."
"If there's a plot, wouldn't Deves be more likely to ferret it out?"
"No. The underworld doesn't intersect with the Devedian."
"That archer wouldn't belong to the underworld. He's a soldier after
fast money." Nor did he swallow Consent's protest. Thieves had a
cautiously close relationship with the men who purchased the goods they
appropriated in their struggle to redistribute Brothen wealth. But
Hecht seldom challenged known falsehoods. People became defensive. They
clammed up. He believed in paying rope out and watching.
Consent would understand. He and Talab did the watching.
Hecht said, "We're accomplishing nothing." He brushed his left
forearm. Yes. The amulet was there. Which reaffirmed that there was no
sorcery active nearby.
Someone was keeping track of him somehow, though.
Hecht and Pinkus Ghort were at the waterfront, waiting to board
Lumberer.
Hecht asked, "What are you into on the side, Pinkus?"
"Huh?"
"If I didn't have your word for this being a fast coaster I'd
suspect her of being a smuggler." The crewmen looked
Not nearly so much as he should be. He has something going, under the
sheets. But the Elders won't hear that. Apparently, the Elect is
supposed to be seen but not heard."
Hecht was lost. "You mean it? This conversion?"
"Of course. I don't want to be anything special. I just want to take
care of my family and do my job. Which is perfect for me. I love it and
I'm good at it."
"I'm confused."
"I'm sorry. My fault for not being clear. You have no idea how
stressful this is. This is the biggest thing I'm ever likely to face."
"Tabill Talab. How will he respond? His father…"
"Is one of the Seven. Yes. That does worry me. But you're going to
lose him before long, anyway."
Not good, Hecht thought. Not good at all. The Devedian connection
had made him look good.
Honed by three decades lived in a city and land that had been old in
the wiles of conspiracy before the beginning of time, Hecht started
sniffing for a whiff of what Consent was really up to.
They resumed moving because Titus was too nervous to stand still.
An arrow, presumably from a longbow, removed Hecht's hat. The shaft
came from amongst the monuments. It missed Consent by a scant inch,
too. It ricocheted off the pavements into the cold brown of the Teragi
River. Bystanders yelled and scattered. Ten thousand pigeons took wing
in a flapping roar.
"You see where that came from?" Hecht demanded.
"No." They crouched at the pediments of a small memorial arch.
Consent held a dagger with a long, slim blade. Hecht had not realized
that the Deve carried any weapon. He carried a short sword himself,
more emblematic of his office than useful in a fight. "Only generally,
that way. Because of where it went."
"Yeah. Who's Galinis Andul?" Hecht tapped the inscription beside his
head, so ancient that it was almost illegible.
Startled, Consent said, "The man who designed the arch. Those guys
grabbed the chance to make their names last. The memorial proclamation
is up top. This one looks like it predates the Old Empire. Meaning it
was moved here by Arember the Hairy."
Hecht wanted to ease Consent's tension, not listen to a lecture.
"Work from cover to cover and flank him from the left. I'll move in
from the right."
He did not expect to find the sniper. There had been no second
shaft. Not that a lone archer could expect to take out a distant target
who was alert.
And the would-be assassin
was
gone. No one had seen an
archer. There was no physical evidence. A sorcerer of exceptional
weight might have found a trail. Hecht did not have one handy.
His amulet had not warned him. The assassin would be nothing but a
skilled archer.
"It was a pretty good shot," Hecht admitted. "At least a hundred
fifty yards. On a breezy day. From in here where the wind would swirl."
"Yes." There was no admiration in Consent's tone. "Who was he after?
Or would it matter, as long as he got someone from Central Staff?"
"Sure you want to convert?"
"Yes."
"If there's a plot, wouldn't Deves be more likely to ferret it out?"
"No. The underworld doesn't intersect with the Devedian."
"That archer wouldn't belong to the underworld. He's a soldier after
fast money." Nor did he swallow Consent's protest. Thieves had a
cautiously close relationship with the men who purchased the goods they
appropriated in their struggle to redistribute Brothen wealth. But
Hecht seldom challenged known falsehoods. People became defensive. They
clammed up. He believed in paying rope out and watching.
Consent would understand. He and Talab did the watching.
Hecht said, "We're accomplishing nothing." He brushed his left
forearm. Yes. The amulet was there. Which reaffirmed that there was no
sorcery active nearby.
Someone was keeping track of him somehow, though.
Hecht and Pinkus Ghort were at the waterfront, waiting to board
Lumberer.
Hecht asked, "What are you into on the side, Pinkus?"
"Huh?"
"If I didn't have your word for this being a fast coaster I'd
suspect her of being a smuggler." The crewmen looked
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