Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves (7 page)

He changed the subject quickly. “I’m famished. What do you say we go looking for some breakfast?”

***

By midmorning we sat concealed behind a low wall backing the market square, devouring the juicy red berries and slices of sweet waterfruit Fleet had deftly filched from a fruit vender’s stall. I hadn’t realized how long it was since my last meal until I sank my teeth into the fruit and felt its sticky juice dribbling down my chin. It was good to lean against the sun-warmed wall at my back and relax with a full belly. But comfortable though I was, I didn’t forget Terrac was probably enjoying a less fortunate state. I had to save him and to do that I must enlist Hadrian.

I gave Fleet a short explanation of how a friend of mine had been taken up by the Fists and of why I hoped locating Hadrian would lead to a plan for freeing Terrac. I told him all I knew of the priest and the only clues I had for finding him. I told him also of my misfortunes the night before Middlefest, of how my falling victim to a footpad had prevented my making our rendezvous in the temple, to say nothing of costing me a new pair of knives and a handful of coin. Then I recounted to him Hadrian’s reference to the river people.

When I was done, Fleet frowned and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“River people, huh? Makes a body wonder what sort of priest this friend of yours is, that he has dealings with those folk. Not many do. Certainly not priests of the Light.” He chewed his lower lip. “Still, you’re determined to find him, and I guess if this is our only clue to his whereabouts, I can manage it. Should be easy enough to get out to their river rafts. I just don’t know how we’ll be received when we arrive. I’ve heard they’re hostile to strangers. It’s about the only fact anyone knows about them. I should also warn you I don’t speak a word of their twisted dialect, so we may have a bit of trouble making our questions understood.”

“But you’ll come with me?” I asked.

He grimaced. “Ah well, I’ve taken worse risks. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be an adventure.”

I wasn’t looking for adventure. Rather, I was fervently hoping after this was all over my life would slow to a duller pace for a long, long time. I kept these thoughts to myself and asked instead, “Exactly how do we go about finding these people, Fleet?”

“There’s no finding to it,” he said. “You must have seen them on the old docks as you crossed the bridge into the city. That’s where they stay. Never come inside the city walls. They’re no more welcome here than… well, than we’ll be when we enter their community.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “Let’s be off.”

“Not so fast. There’s one little matter I have to take care of first. In case you’ve forgotten, I still carry certain borrowed goods on my person, and I’ll be more comfortable after I’ve got them out of my possession.”

I couldn’t conceal my impatience. “What are you proposing?” I asked.

“Nothing that will take up much of our time,” he said. “I’ve a friend who turns stolen goods into gold. Come on.” And with no more explanation, he led me off.

I tried to ask where we were going but could get little information out of him.

“Nowhere pretty, I’ll tell you that much. Not a place you’ll want to be seen coming and going from either. The city guard watch you closer if they think you’ve got business with the folk down there, so I keep my visits to a minimum. But there’s no help for it today.”

I shook my head in confusion, but he didn’t seem to want to disclose anymore. I was beginning to learn my strange companion enjoyed a mystery.

I said, “Well, wherever this secret place of yours is and whatever your friend does there, I hope you don’t expect me to pay for any part of it. Don’t forget I was robbed and haven’t a copper left to buy myself a penny-loaf of bread, let alone to purchase your friend’s services.”

Fleet was unperturbed. “Who spoke of purchasing, I’d like to know?” he called over his shoulder as he threaded his way down the crowded street. “I don’t believe in paying for things. This is a simple business arrangement, a case for bargaining, and luckily I’ve the chip for it. Just settle back and leave everything to me.”

***

The under-levels were a warren of underground tunnels of stone and clay reaching like dark, spreading roots beneath the clean city streets above. The tunnels had been constructed as part of the previous Praetor’s plan for a complex drainage system for floodwaters and city waste, Fleet told me. The endeavor had proven a failure either for inadequate planning or lack of funds and work on the tunnels had ceased years ago. Now they provided a filthy dwelling place for citizens too impoverished to afford shelter elsewhere, as well as a dank, smelly hideaway for disreputable types who didn’t wish to conduct their business under the light of day.

I was unsurprised to find the entry to the levels located in the beggar’s quarter of the Common district. Fleet led me unerringly to the mouth of the entrance, slid aside the metal grate, and together we descended the winding steps leading into the bowels of the city. The light was dim here but by no means dark as night. Occasional glimmer-stones were cemented into the walls along with the building stones and these provided an eerie, greenish glow to illuminate the levels. I would have paused to wonder how those stones stored and emitted light underground without the sun’s rays to replenish them, but in this unnatural place such a small phenomenon seemed unremarkable.

I suddenly felt very far away from the bright sunshine and bustle of the world above. An odd silence hung like a shroud around us, and the very air we breathed was stale and stifling. When we came to the foot of the steps, we found ourselves in a high-ceilinged open chamber from which numerous smaller tunnels branched off in various directions. I caught sight of a few ragged children scurrying off like rats down those side tunnels, but this wider chamber appeared to be the most heavily inhabited area.

Before me spread a haphazard collection of hovels, shoved against one another in close, disorderly fashion, their walls made of any kind of unwanted rubbish the inhabitants had been able to get their hands on. A few homes had dirty blankets strung across open doorways to provide a measure of privacy, but most entrances stood open to the outside. There were no roofs on the dwellings, probably because the chamber ceiling overhead already provided shelter from the elements.

Many of the shacks leaned against other structures for support so that there was little room for walking between them. There were no discernible paths or rows to keep to, but following Fleet’s lead, I picked my way carefully along. Those inhabitants who had not raised hovels or tents over their heads sat or sprawled heedlessly over the stone floor, often crowded so tightly together I could scarcely move without stepping on them. A full half the folk we passed were sleeping, despite the early hour of the day. I supposed down here in the dark, they did not mark the hours of the days and night as we did above.

My attention was drawn to the many pitiful folk who were ill. They coughed and shivered, half naked and often lacking even a thin scrap of blanket. I felt a mixture of sympathy and unease at the sight. It hadn’t been so long since the years of the rotting plague and I thought nervously what a prime breeding ground this place would be for such diseases. I noticed that Fleet, ahead of me, avoided touching anything around him and I followed his example.

Many of the inhabitants of this depressing place watched us with disinterest or not at all as we passed, but our arrival caused a small stir among others. A handful of unfortunates clutched at me, begging for a coin or two, until they learned I had nothing to offer. Fleet, with his gaudy jewelry and finer clothing, drew beggars like a loaf of honey-dipped bread. But I noticed, though they followed him like hopeful dogs trailing their master, none put out even a tentative hand to touch him. They relied instead upon their pitiful cries to capture his sympathy.

For his part, he appeared not to hear them. I wondered what it was that made these people so wary of my companion when they didn’t hesitate to tug at my arm or attempt slipping their hands into my coat pockets. Then I remembered Fleet was not an uncommon visitor here. Perhaps he had proved himself less than patient with such attempts in the past.

The wariness of the beggars notwithstanding, by the time we reached our destination, we led behind us a short, ragged procession. Fleet stopped before a shack of rotting timbers that was the sturdiest dwelling I had yet to see in this place and the first to boast a real door in front. At this point, Fleet whirled suddenly on his heel and drove the lingering beggars away with curses and threatening gestures, until they scattered back the way they had come. Then he turned back, straightened his coat, and rapped softly at the door, careful, I noted, lest it fall off its hinges.

In a moment, he was rewarded by the door being cracked slowly open. The man who peered out at us was heavy set and greasy haired and wore an unwelcoming scowl as he thrust his round face out the door. Then, apparently recognizing Fleet, his face broke into an ugly smile.

“Davin.” Fleet greeted him coolly.

“Why, Fleet, my lad! I have not laid eyes on your ugly face nor heard mention of you in months. I was beginning to think the iron-heads had caught you at last and given you your just deserts at the end of a noose. But there’ve been no hangings in town recently. So I says to myself, ‘maybe Fleet thinks he’s too good to cross the threshold of his old partner again.’”

Forgetting I’d yet to be introduced, I jumped into the conversation, demanding sharply, “You say there’ve been no hangings lately? You’re sure of that?”

My mind had naturally flown to Terrac.

The big man frowned at me. “Believe me, I know when there’s a hanging afoot. Always look to see if it’s one of my old friends dangling.”

He turned his attention back to Fleet. “Who’s this young companion of yours with such interest in hangings?” he asked.

Fleet waved a hand, as if to indicate I was no one of significance, a response I found vaguely insulting.

“Just a friend,” he said. “But we didn’t come to chat over old times and past crimes. I have business for you.”

The fat man’s eyes took on a greedy gleam.

“I do not, however, have any intention of discussing it on the doorstep,” Fleet said. “Are you going to invite us into that hovel of yours or keep us standing out here with the vermin?”

The fat man hesitated, flicking a suspicious glance at me.

“She comes with me,” Fleet said firmly. “I trust her and that should be good enough for you.”

The fat man shrugged before stepping back to hold the door wide.

“Any friend of Fleet’s…” he said with unconvincing grace.

Fleet shot me a quick glance I couldn’t read, but I thought there was some sort of warning in it. I suddenly realized how much he was trusting me with. The contacts and secrets of his trade. For a thief, that was no light thing and I hoped the look I retuned said I would honor his trust.

I ducked my head under a low beam as I followed Fleet into the shadowy interior of the hovel and for the first time in my life found myself regretting my height. It was usually an advantage to be as tall as most men, but right now I was discovering a definite downside. The ceiling here was low and I had to keep my shoulders hunched and my head bowed, a burden neither Fleet nor the fat man had to bear.

The first thing which came to my attention immediately after entering the fat man’s hut was the fetid stink in the air, a mingled scent of ale fumes and old urine with maybe a bit of rotting garbage thrown in for variety. I choked back my initial desire to return to the comparatively fresh air outside and tried to distract myself by examining my surroundings.

The hut was lit by the glow of a flickering lantern that did little to banish the shadows or to reveal what lay beneath them. Scattered around was a collection of broken furniture and rubbish, crammed so closely into the tight space there was hardly room to turn around without stumbling into something. Large earthenware containers and bulging canvas sacks were stacked along the walls in heaps as high as I was tall. I suspected them of being filled with old clothes, cheap jewelry, and any other loot Davin could get his hands on. From what I could see of the goods, they were not the sort of thing our band back in Dimming would have bothered stealing. I privately wondered how much of the accumulated treasures Davin had filched from the unfortunates camped around his hut.

Davin noticed my perusal of his home. “Admiring my collection, I see,” he said. “Doubtless you’re wondering what a man of my obvious success is doing living down here amongst the filth.”

I couldn’t decide whether he was being ironic.

He continued. “Well, I’ll share a secret with you, young woman. It is not my means which keeps me huddled below ground like a sewer rat. I chose this spot to lurk because it is the only place in Selbius where one can be entirely free of the eyes of the cursed city guard. Rotting iron-heads, always sniffing around up there; won’t give an honest thief a moment’s peace.”

Fleet was nodding sympathetically.

“Down here, below level,” Davin said, “it’s nice and quiet, and I can work in secret without the law keepers looking over my shoulder. But I am rattling on like a slack-jawed old woman. Come, come, sit and rest yourselves at my warm hearth and we’ll talk business.”

There was, in fact, no hearth or if there was it was hidden behind piles of debris, but Davin led us to a slightly less crowded corner, picking his way through the jumbled rubbish with surprising agility for such a large man. He seated himself in a sagging chair, the only sturdy looking bit of furniture in the place. I was just as glad to remain on my feet. Fleet, seeming unperturbed by the squalor or perhaps merely accustomed to it, pulled up a wooden keg and sat down.

“Now,” Davin began, “you say you came to discuss matters of the trade—” He interrupted himself suddenly to shout over his shoulder. “Heslan, I cannot discuss business on a dry throat!”

He smacked a hand loudly on the arm of his chair. “Where are you woman? Bring us a drink!”