also the part where I was most likely to be spotted by those who wanted to do harmful things to my person. Loiosh and Rocza flew above me in slow circles, alert to anything.
I felt a quickening of my heartbeat, and tried to relax. There was a lot to do, and a lot that could go wrong; this wasn’t the time to let my emotions drive the team.
There were four different places where, in the past, I’d left messages that I wanted to see Kiera. The message I left this time was the same at all four: “Please tell Kiera that the little guy is hungry for apples.”
And something happened in there that’s worth relating, because it turned out to be important, though I didn’t realize it at the time.
The Hook is a tiny area on the western side of the city, just touching Lower Kieron. There are no Jhereg operations there. I was leaving a message at a place called the Fruit Basket, and I saw a kid being hauled off by a couple of Phoenix Guards. He wore the colors of the Orca, and if there’s any House I hate, that’s the one. But he was young. He was Dragaeran, not human, so the ages don’t line up, but he looked like the same age as my son. I guess that’s what did it.
Anyway, I couldn’t help it. I approached them.
“Move along, whiskers,” said one of them, not even stopping, and I got annoyed. I dug into my pouch, pulled out my signet and showed it to them. I got all the reaction I could have asked for: wide eyes, open mouths, and I think they even turned a little pale.
The woman said, “My lord, apologies. I didn’t know—”
“That any Easterners had Imperial titles. Yeah. I’m Count of Szurke by the grace of Her Majesty. What is the boy accused of?”
“Cutpurse, m’lord.”
One look at him said he was guilty.
“May we proceed?” said the man.
I considered. “Not yet.” I turned to him. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Asyavn, my lord.” The name wasn’t unlike that of a Teckla boy I liked. I frowned and turned toward the Phoenix Guards. I started to say, “Let him go,” then reconsidered. I was going to need to collect a lot of things. “Get his imprint, and suspend the arrest.”
“Until?”
“A year and a day. If he’s done nothing in that time, it never happened.”
“As you say, m’lord.”
When they’d taken a psychic impression of him, they left. I turned to him, and he seemed a little frightened. He said, “You could have just freed me.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I prefer being able to find you to collect the favor you owe me.”
He looked even more frightened, and seemed very close to bolting. “What do you want me to do?”
I said, “Nothing just now. I may need some help in the future though. What do you do besides cutting purses?”
“I dive and salvage some,” he said.
I smiled. “Do you indeed? Well. If I need some diving and salvaging, or a purse cut, how do I find you?”
He told me a few places he could usually be found, and I told him that a Jhereg might come looking for him, then sent him on his way. It was a minor stroke of good luck, as such things go, but it turned out to help.
I went back to arranging to make contact with my old friend Kiera the Thief.
It was long, slow, and painful to get into each of the places I wanted to leave a message without taking more chances than necessary; but not all that interesting to relate, so let’s just say I did it, and by the time I was done I was seriously hungry—for apples or anything else. I stayed on major streets and hung with big crowds as much as I could while heading past Malak Circle to Windchime Market, and from there north to a tiny place called, appropriately, Tiny’s, where they made a decent if not outstanding peppered breaded kethna. The real attraction, though, was across the street where there was a smaller place selling baked cinnamon apples filled with sweetened flavored iced cream; fresh apples when in season, dried when not. Kiera had heard me talking about it often, and I was
I felt a quickening of my heartbeat, and tried to relax. There was a lot to do, and a lot that could go wrong; this wasn’t the time to let my emotions drive the team.
There were four different places where, in the past, I’d left messages that I wanted to see Kiera. The message I left this time was the same at all four: “Please tell Kiera that the little guy is hungry for apples.”
And something happened in there that’s worth relating, because it turned out to be important, though I didn’t realize it at the time.
The Hook is a tiny area on the western side of the city, just touching Lower Kieron. There are no Jhereg operations there. I was leaving a message at a place called the Fruit Basket, and I saw a kid being hauled off by a couple of Phoenix Guards. He wore the colors of the Orca, and if there’s any House I hate, that’s the one. But he was young. He was Dragaeran, not human, so the ages don’t line up, but he looked like the same age as my son. I guess that’s what did it.
Anyway, I couldn’t help it. I approached them.
“Move along, whiskers,” said one of them, not even stopping, and I got annoyed. I dug into my pouch, pulled out my signet and showed it to them. I got all the reaction I could have asked for: wide eyes, open mouths, and I think they even turned a little pale.
The woman said, “My lord, apologies. I didn’t know—”
“That any Easterners had Imperial titles. Yeah. I’m Count of Szurke by the grace of Her Majesty. What is the boy accused of?”
“Cutpurse, m’lord.”
One look at him said he was guilty.
“May we proceed?” said the man.
I considered. “Not yet.” I turned to him. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Asyavn, my lord.” The name wasn’t unlike that of a Teckla boy I liked. I frowned and turned toward the Phoenix Guards. I started to say, “Let him go,” then reconsidered. I was going to need to collect a lot of things. “Get his imprint, and suspend the arrest.”
“Until?”
“A year and a day. If he’s done nothing in that time, it never happened.”
“As you say, m’lord.”
When they’d taken a psychic impression of him, they left. I turned to him, and he seemed a little frightened. He said, “You could have just freed me.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I prefer being able to find you to collect the favor you owe me.”
He looked even more frightened, and seemed very close to bolting. “What do you want me to do?”
I said, “Nothing just now. I may need some help in the future though. What do you do besides cutting purses?”
“I dive and salvage some,” he said.
I smiled. “Do you indeed? Well. If I need some diving and salvaging, or a purse cut, how do I find you?”
He told me a few places he could usually be found, and I told him that a Jhereg might come looking for him, then sent him on his way. It was a minor stroke of good luck, as such things go, but it turned out to help.
I went back to arranging to make contact with my old friend Kiera the Thief.
It was long, slow, and painful to get into each of the places I wanted to leave a message without taking more chances than necessary; but not all that interesting to relate, so let’s just say I did it, and by the time I was done I was seriously hungry—for apples or anything else. I stayed on major streets and hung with big crowds as much as I could while heading past Malak Circle to Windchime Market, and from there north to a tiny place called, appropriately, Tiny’s, where they made a decent if not outstanding peppered breaded kethna. The real attraction, though, was across the street where there was a smaller place selling baked cinnamon apples filled with sweetened flavored iced cream; fresh apples when in season, dried when not. Kiera had heard me talking about it often, and I was
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