couldn’t forget what had happened to his mother. Murdered by a drunk just because she was on her own and so there was no one to stop him. He understood better than most that, for women, independence sometimes came at far too high a price.
‘No you’re not doing well,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re risking life and limb every time you go with someone. Look, Flora, if this is what you really want to do I’m the last person to try and stand in your way. But listen to a little friendly advice. You’re pretty enough that any house in this city would take you, and the better houses will take care of you. You speak well enough, almost like a lady, you could get hired at The White Wing, I’m thinking.’
Flora tossed her head with a ‘tsk!’, but he could tell she was listening.
‘The pleasure houses will watch your customers for you, so you don’t get sloppy drunks or bastards who’ll beat you up for fun and not pay you. Better by far than the street.’ He looked at her seriously. ‘Better by far, of course, to do something else.’
She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Like what? You know I’m a lousy thief. And I’m not about to pass for a beggar, now am I?’
He nudged her shoulder again and smiled. ‘C’mon, you’re a bright girl. I can get you some forged references. How do you think Carsten’s sister got work at the palace?’
Flora looked thoughtful, then she gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Does she like it?’
‘Seems to,’ Jimmy lied, having no idea himself. ‘What wouldn’t she like? She sleeps warm and in a bed of her own, with nobody else in it unless she wants him there, gets a new dress every year, good food, and paid in the bargain. Mind, she works hard, and the pay’s no royal bequest, but all in all she seems to think it’s worth it.’
His tongue itched to tell her, and she helped to rescue the Princess Anita, but he restrained himself. That would only lead to, And so did I, which wasn’t something he wanted spread around. The last thing he needed was to be on Jocko Radburn’s wanted list in a personal capacity.
Flora’s mouth opened to speak when Laughing Jack stepped up onto a bench and thence to a table and called out,
‘Listen up!’ When the crowd had quieted and every face turned to him the Nightwarden continued. ‘Word’s down from the Upright Man, hisself! All Mockers are to lie low.’ He raised his hands for silence as this announcement brought forth a torrent of muttered protest. ‘That means out of sight, here, or if you got another flop, stay inside. And you beggars and younger thieves especially. Radburn seems to like to target your kind. No boosting, at all.’ He paused and glared around the room: ‘Not without special writ from the Day- or Nightmaster. We’ll be getting some food in later, so you won’t starve, until this business is over. Any questions,’ again he passed a glare over the room, ‘keep ’em to yourselves.’ Laughing Jack stepped down and walked off to a rising chorus of speculation.
‘What about the whores?’ Flora asked, frowning.
‘For Banath’s sake, Flora,’ Jimmy said, invoking the god of thieves, ‘free food and a safe place to sleep! We’re finally getting to see something for all those shares we pay out. Why work when we can laze about like –’ he’d been about to say ‘royalty’, but changed it to, ‘– Bas-Tyra’s bully-boys. Besides, it will give you a chance to think about your future.’
With a shy smile, she nodded, pleased at the attention. ‘Oh, for …’
The Nightwarden took to the table again and said in exasperation: ‘If you’ve got another flop, leave now! Those that don’t can stay here.’ He stepped down again and this time left the hall.
‘Well,’ Jimmy said, rising, ‘I’m off to bed.’
He glanced at the rapier in his hand and decided after all to leave it in the weapons locker. A boy his age and station carrying a first-class sword down the street in what would soon be broad daylight was bound to receive unwelcome attention. The purchase price would be ten years’ wages for a tailor or potmaker, much less a common labourer or child of the streets. He could scarcely assure the watch that, no, it wasn’t stolen, a visiting prince had given it to him …
‘What about you, Hotfingers?’ he said. ‘Do you need an escort?’
‘Go on!’ she said laughing. ‘An escort!’ She swatted him on the rump. ‘Nah, I’m staying here to take advantage of the Upright Man’s generosity.’
Jimmy looked around nervously; that was a somewhat overbold statement, but no one had noticed.
‘Good night then,’ he said, and gave her a little salute with the hilt of the sword.
Flora broke into giggles at the sight. ‘Escort!’ he heard her say as he walked off.
Jimmy watched carefully.
Despite the early hour, the streets were rapidly filling with people. The scrawny street-sweepers with their brooms and pans were just clearing off; for a moment Jimmy thought it was a job should be paid for by the Crown. A bit of a tax on each business and all the streets would be fit for travellers rather than just some of the better boulevards in the merchants’ and wealthy quarters where those who resided paid out of their own pockets. If I was Duke of Krondor, he thought idly, that’s how I’d do it.
The sweepers were being replaced by cooks and their assistants returning from the farmers’ markets with fresh produce, fruit and poultry. Butchers’ apprentices hurried along carrying quarters of beef or sides of pork. Those tradespeople who didn’t live over their businesses were off to open their shops in the next hour, and those whose work-day started a bit later were looking for their bite to eat at the start of the day.
Wood smoke curled from chimneys and he could smell porridge cooking, sometimes a fish or sausage frying – more odours to add their bit to the ghosts of ancient cabbage that haunted the city’s poorer quarters. Wooden shoes clattered on the cobbles, bare feet slapped, hooves racketed.
The black and gold of Bas-Tyra wasn’t as visible as it had been on other mornings lately, and Jimmy smirked to himself at the thought that they were still nursing their bruises. But the few members of the old Constable’s company seemed on edge, as if trouble were coming and they didn’t know which side of it they’d land. He passed a gate where four soldiers still wearing the Prince’s tabards were huddled, talking with heads down rather than watching who passed through. Something was up and word was spreading. Jimmy knew every man on the docks the night before had been Bas-Tyra regulars or secret police.
For a moment he toyed with the idea of wandering over to the temporary barracks used by Bas-Tyra’s soldiers and taking a look at the damage, but that notion was dispelled by a rare instant of common sense. Given how touchy the guards were no doubt feeling today, any number of poor boys were liable to be spending a few days in the city dungeon. But in his case it was liable to be more than a few days and a lot more painful.
Suddenly a sergeant of the Bas-Tyra guard appeared and the Prince’s four sentries snapped lively and took their posts on either side of the gate. Jimmy watched from the sheltered vantage point of a deep doorway opposite the gate. The sergeant’s mood was dark and dangerous and when he left, the four soldiers of the Prince were studying every face
