Bloodhound (42 page)

I opened the door a crack. "Thanks," I told her. "He's a bit of an old crotchet, I'm afraid." I'd picked up two coppers before I answered the door. I slipped them into her hand. "Would you say I'll be right down?"

The maid looked at the coins, surprised. I'll wager she was startled that I knew to give her a tip. She actually bobbed a curtsy and trotted off down the hall. I shut the door and set about getting dressed.

I found Master Finer where the maid had said he'd be. She had even set him up with a tankard of ale and a plate of cakes. I reminded myself to give her two more coppers and another word of thanks. I must keep in mind that tipping actually does good. Master Finer was setting down his tankard as I came in. There was a bit of foam on his upper lip. From the glare that he gave me, it was the ale alone that had kept him waiting. He'd spread a large map of part of Tortall on the table, anchoring it with a pitcher, the plate of cakes, what must be my tankard, and a bowl of apples.

"Here I've been, mistress, going half blind working over those coles of Clary's. What happens when I finally have word for her? That fribbety wench as answers the door here tells me Clary's gone gallivanting off and I'm to be dealing with you if I'm to deal with anyone!"

Well. Seemingly it was left to me to smooth the old bird's feathers. He couldn't be worse than Granny Fern in one of her pets, or the colonel across my street who comes to complain of all the wickedness that the neighborhood gets up to. I leaned forward with my most serious face on. "Master Finer, I may not tell you why she is away. I may only tell you that it could not be avoided." I carefully refilled his tankard. "Your work is vital to our hunt. Trust me, Goodwin did not wish to go without hearing your results."

He mumbled under his breath and took a swallow of ale. I noticed then that his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. I sat straight and frowned at him. "I thought you had family to help you. From the look of your eyes, you have pushed too hard."

He waved his hand at me. "They helped. I never said processes and comparisons for differing silvers are easy, young Cooper. Never you mind my eyes. You're as bad as my granddaughter. Have one of these cakes."

I took one and broke off a piece. "Goodwin would tell you the same, Master Finer."

He scowled at me. "Do you want my findings or no, Mistress Fussnob?" He patted the map with one gnarled hand.

As he did so, I remembered some of the things he had said on the day we met. "Sir, has your family heard from the Silversmith's Guild or from your Watch Commander concerning the coles you reported to them?"

He shook his head. "Not a word, and I sent messages to both the day I spoke with you and Clary. And my fellow smiths and I are worried. Silver has doubled in price this week." When I blinked at him, Master Finer shook his head. "Of course a Dog attends only to the gutters. Now, Cooper, if the price of pure silver rises at all, it's wonderful if it rises a noble in a
year
. Ah –
now
you nod!
Now
you understand. Here's something that's more frightening still.
Gold
rose this week by
six silver nobles
. Folk are scrambling to get their hands on gold. I've instructed my family to lay up stocks of food and other stores in our country house. Wenna and some of the other women took the children out of the city yesterday."

I stared at the old cove. If the other tradesmen thought as he did, Port Caynn was on the brink of disaster. And disaster, like scummer, runs downhill, straight to Corus. Goodwin's message to my lord might already be too late.

"My neighbors only think we're taking a late-year holiday," Master Finer said. "We had no wish to start everyone to running."

You didn't want everyone else buying up all the supplies, I thought.

"Some folk are thinking the same in the money guilds, but only some," Master Finer said. "The rest think 'tis only one of those follies that come now and then. They call us fools. They tell us folk are just worried about the harvest. They're buying stores and laying them up here in the city." He shook his head.
"They
don't see how much bad money is out there. Now, mind this map."

Now that I took a longer look, I could see that the map showed western Tortall, from the Olorun River to the Scanran border and from Corus to the ocean. Master Finer tapped each place he named with his knobbed finger. "We had silver in the Coast Hills once, but it ran out thirty year ago, thereabouts. It was fine stuff, Coast Hills silver. It had a pearly sheen, buffed up. The insignia in the Silversmith's Guild Hall in Corus is made from Coast Hills silver, did you know?"

I smiled at the old cove. Tunstall sounded the same, talking about his tiny plants, or Aniki and Lady Sabine when they spoke of swords. "I'm as ignorant of the Guild Hall as I am of most things that aren't Dog work, Master Finer."

He barked out a laugh. "None of your sauce now, Cooper! Once you return home, go and look at that great shield over the Guildmaster's dais. Now. The coles. I had to scrape the silver off the coles, then render it down. By the time I had enough melts of it, I knew I had coastal Tortallan silver, but that might have been southern coast, too. There are some mines in the south, but those show a different color – " He coughed into his fist. "Never you mind! I did my treatments, that's all
you
need to know. The silver on these coles has some from other places. I suppose they bought or stole silver wherever they could and added it to their melts. But the biggest part of it is Coast Hills silver.
New
Coast Hills silver, that's never been worked afore this."

"But you said it was all gone," I interrupted. I expected his glare, and I got it. "Beg pardon, Master Finer, but you did."

He nodded. "So I said, girl, and so any silversmith in the guild will tell you. But this would be Dog work of a kind. If I tell you, on my honor as a silversmith, that this is new Coast Hills silver, what would you, as a Dog, be telling me?"

I shrugged. "One of two things. Either someone held back fearful big amounts of it, before the old mines failed, or there's a new mine."

He gave me a thin smile. "So Clary's partner is a clever Dog herself. You're right, Cooper." He pointed to the map. "Now, see, my process, the way I find silver, it shows me where exactly it comes from. No two places are alike. Here's the River Tellerun, as lets out just north of the city. The best silver mines were to the east of the Tellerun Valley," he explained. "And the best of the Coast Hills silver came from the mines here, a ways south of Arenaver, on the barony of Olau. I'd bet my house's fortune they've opened a new mine in secret there, and they're using that silver for the coles." He tapped the mark for Barony Olau with a knotted finger and sat back in his chair, all grim and satisfied.

I stared at the map, remembering Hanse's mention at dropping a job, and angering an old customer, to his people right after his talk with the Rogue. Their destination was near Arenaver, a safer destination to name than Barony Olau.

How did Pearl learn about a new mine at Olau? I wondered. I suppose the cage Dogs will get that out of her, if we catch her alive. It will serve her right to get the same Drink that poor Master Elkes took, just because he wouldn't sell her his stores of brass.

If she is looking for more brass, and bringing in more silver, she plans to make more coles. We have to hobble her, and catch her silversmith, before she does it. Thank the gods that Goodwin has gone for my lord's help.

"I've got you thinking, I can tell." Master Finer got to his feet. "Tell Clary to see me when she returns."

I scrambled to my feet as well. "Master Finer, we've stayed away because we're being watched by the Rogue. Gods, you came here in the open." My temples throbbed as I realized it. Just because Serenity kept the area around this house clear of all watchers did not mean there weren't others out of her reach.

"As if I would run yelping from that street trash!" Master Finer said, glaring at me. "I came with guards, and the guards and spells at my house are more than enough for the Rogue. Let her come after me! We'll bash those fool pearl teeth in!"

There was no arguing with him. I watched him go with the four strong guards who had waited for him outside, a tiny old man circled by muscle. All I could do was pray he was right and that his family could protect him.

I got up and let Achoo out. While she romped in the yard, I wrote a note to Nestor and gave it to one of Serenity's message runners. I asked Nestor to warn anyone at Tradesmen's kennel who still did proper Dog work to keep an eye on Isanz Finer's house.

With that taken care of, I returned to my room and changed my clothes for my weapons and the lone pair of cityfolk breeches and tunic I'd brought. I loaded my pack with seed and corn, then stuffed its side pockets with more of the small bundles of dirt I had brought here from Corus. Goodwin had kept us on the move, learning the city her way. I was inclined to follow her lead, not reminding her that I had other ways to learn news. In truth, information got from dust spinners and pigeons isn't the most satisfying, made as it is of bits and pieces, and it was so much slower. Still, I'd been itching to try the birds again, and there was that spinner I'd heard last night. I hadn't forgotten the Eagle Street spinner, either.

With my pack ready, I sat down and wrote up the day so far in my journal. Back it will go into my secret pocket, where I can keep it with me. My veins are still filled with that shivering fire. I'd thought to take a nap, but I can no more go back to sleep right now than I can fly.

I hate to say it, but with Goodwin on her way back to Corus, I feel like a hound that's been let off its leash. Now I can seek as
I
wish to. Let Pearl be suspicious of a Dog who feeds birds and stands in swirls of dust and wind if she likes. They will help me gather enough threads to weave for her a noose.

At half past five of the clock.

With Achoo at my side, I headed straight for the empty lot where I had fed the birds yesterday. As before, no sooner had I scattered seed than down came Slapper with his new friends. I settled on my heels to listen. In the bushes at the lot's edge I could see dirty ankles. I was near certain that the gixie set to watch us was with me again today. I got an idea.

Serenity's cook had given me a couple of my favorite Viviano apples. In the markets they were going for twice the price this year that they did last autumn. Certainly they'd be a luxury for a street gixie.

I pulled one out and, before I could change my mind, tossed it high in the air, toward the bushes. It fell into the leaves, but I never heard it strike the ground. Quickly I set down a small pile of corn for Slapper, who was pecking my boots. I looked up under my brows. Those dirty ankles were still there, so the gixie hadn't run when I tossed the apple her way. She'd caught it, for certain. I can hit a Rat at a hundred feet when I throw a rock. That apple would have struck her or the ground beside her if she hadn't caught it.

One apple would not buy me any favor with my spy. It would take several to make her think well of me, if food could do that trick. In the meantime, I could hear what the pigeons might have.

The ghosts were talking as I bent all of my attention on them. They spoke of poison, a dropped load on the docks, a knife in the dark, a pain in a left arm. One had fallen from a ladder without telling his son of the moneybag buried under the back doorstep. An old man had died on his wedding night with a beautiful young bride. He feared to present himself to his old wife in the Peaceful Realms, knowing she would scold him for a fool. He actually made me laugh, which I'd never done with a ghost. I told him not to be a looby. He must go and take his scolding like a grown man. His voice faded from the mortal realms even as he said I was right.

None of them spoke of aught that sounded like Pearl Skinner or coles. Here, so close to the docks, I heard more of harborside and warehouse accidents than deliberate murder. I gave the pigeons a last scattering of corn as a thank-you before I went on my way, back to Tradesmen's kennel.

As we got downwind of it, the autumn breeze blew full into our faces, carrying the cage stink with it. Achoo looked up at me and whined.

"Sorry, girl," I told her, quiet-like. A pair of Dogs was passing us. "With luck we'll not be long."

We passed by the main entrance. The courtyard was busy with folk come to report crimes or to learn the fate of one who was nabbed. Achoo and I walked on down the long side wall that Goodwin, Nestor, and I had followed not so many hours before. I stopped by the door into the cages and looked around, listening for the scrape of blown grit that I'd heard last night.

The spinner lived on the corner of the kennel, where an alley ran behind it. It rose and fell from six feet in height to four, which was odd behavior for a spinner. The winds might snatch away the things that made up its sides, or a dust storm might blow them in, but usually their growth and shortening took place over days, not moments.

"Achoo,
tunggu,"
I said, pointing to the wall. Achoo whined again, because I was walking away. I'd left her ten feet from the spinner. I didn't know why.

I took out a packet of dirt, leaves, and bits of twigs from the Common. I'd gathered them when my friends and me were having a picnic there. It was a bright, clear summer's day. My brothers had come with Tansy and Joy. Rosto was there, laughing like a lad. Aniki and Kora taught us tumbling tricks. Phelan brought his curs, who had a splendid time chasing Pounce. I gathered five packets of earth from our picnic ground and sewed them up in bright red cloth, keeping them for very special spinners.

I stepped into this one. Instead of widening itself, herself, the spinner closed in, trying to weave its breezes in with my clothing. She told me her name, Shhasow. And then she dumped onto me all the human voices she held at once.

They were screaming. Begging, howling, praying.

I planted my feet in the dirt of the alley and concentrated. Shhasow had thrown those broken voices at me together, but I had learned years ago not to
listen
all at once. At first they slipped through my mind's fingers, just part of a mass of shrieks. Then I heard a voice say, "Charged me five coppers," and I nearly wept. I was hearing the awful backwash from the cages.