Point of Hopes (30 page)

“
Good man.” Devynck pressed
something into the palm of his hand and with a shock Eslingen
recognized the butt of his own pistol. He took it, keeping it
hidden behind the skirts of his coat, looked out into the
street.

“
Stand aside, soldier,” the voice
came again, and Devynck swore under her breath.

“
That’s Nigaud. I thought he was a
friend.”

“
We know you’ve got the children
here,” a lighter voice chimed in, “and we’re not going away until
we’ve found them.”

“
Huviet,” Eslingen said and didn’t
bother to hide his disgust. He lifted his voice to carry to the
group’s leader. “His mother made the same complaint yesterday,
brought the pointsmen here and searched and found nothing. I don’t
see why we’re still suspected. There are no children
here.”

“
Then stand aside and let us see
for ourselves,” Nigaud answered.

“
Over my dead body,” Devynck
muttered. “Adriana. Fetch my sword and Philip’s.”

Eslingen didn’t move, though he heard the rustle of
cloth as Adriana did as she was told. “We’ve been searched already,
by those with the right to do it. If I let you in, when you find
nothing, what’ll you do, break the rest of our windows?”

“
If you don’t have anything to
hide, why don’t you let us in?” Paas Huviet shouted and there was a
little murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“
I won’t let you in because you
don’t have a right to be here,” Eslingen called “and you don’t
offer me any promises that you won’t loot the place while you’re
here. Gods, man; there were people from your guild drinking here
all day, ask them if they saw any sign of the children.”

There was a little pause, and the leader of the last
group stepped into the circle of torchlight. “I didn’t see
anything, I admit. But they could be somewhere else in the
building.”

“
See?” Huviet shouted.

“
They’re going to come in,”
Eslingen said under his breath, and heard Devynck’s grunt of
agreement.

“
Loret’s gone for the points, see
if we can at least get them to agree to that.”

Eslingen nodded. “Masters,” he called, “we
understand your concerns for the children—we’re worried too, we all
know someone who’s lost a child.” That was an exaggeration, but he
hoped it would pass in the dark and the excitement. “But I’ve a
responsibility to this house and to Mistress Devynck. Send someone
to the points, Point of Hopes or Point of Dreams, it doesn’t
matter, but send to them. Let one of them come with you, keep
everything on the right side of the law, and I’ll gladly let you
pass.”

There was a murmur at that, half approving, half
uncertain, and Paas’s voice rose over the general noise. “They
fee’d the points not to find them, why should we trust them?”

“
Be quiet,” Nigaud
snapped.

At his side, Eslingen felt Adriana’s sudden
presence, glanced down to see her holding his sword at the ready.
Behind her, Jasanten perched on a table, Devynck’s caliver and
another pistol in his lap, busy loading them with powder and ball.
Hulet stood in the garden door, half-pike in hand.

“
Even if the points are fee’d in
this,” Nigaud went on, “which I’m not convinced of, Paas, for all
your talk, they still can’t stop us from searching where we please.
I’m prepared to send for a pointsman, soldier—unless you’ve already
done so?”

“
Go ahead,” Eslingen answered and
Nigaud nodded to one of the younger journeymen.

“
Go on, then, go to Point of
Hopes.”

Eslingen held his breath, not moving from the inn’s
doorway. The longer they could postpone this, the more time the
butchers had to think about what they were doing and about what
they might do. The masters, at least, were property owners; the
more time they had to think about the precedent they were setting,
the better for Devynck. The more time they waited without
hostilities, without provocation, the more time there was for the
blood to cool, and it was a rare man who, untrained, could order an
attack in cold blood. The group’s leaders, Nigaud and another man
in a full-skirted coat, a master’s badge in his hat, were talking
again, their voices too low to be heard more than a few feet away.
After a moment, the leader of the last group of journeymen moved to
join them, and Eslingen saw him spread his hands in an expressive
shrug.

Then he heard the sound of the nightwatch’s wooden
clapper again, faster now, as though its holder was running, coming
from the western end of the Knives Road. About half the gathered
journeymen turned to look, and one of the torchbearers turned with
them, lifting her torch to send its light further down the dark
street. A pointsman appeared at the end of the street, his lantern
swinging with the beat of the clapper; the young journeyman trailed
breathlessly at his heels.

“
What’s all this, then?” the
pointsman asked, and put his free hand on his truncheon. Eslingen
swore under his breath, and heard Devynck curse.

“
What do that stars have against
me, that it should be Ranazy?” she muttered. “We’re in trouble now,
Philip.”

“
This is an illegal gathering,” the
pointsman went on, lifting his voice to carry over the angry murmur
that answered his first words. “I’ll have to tell you to disperse,
or face the point.”

“
Like hell we will,” someone
shouted and Nigaud waved his arms for silence.

“
Pointsman, we have cause to think
that the missing children—our missing children, anyway—are being
held at the Old Brown Dog. I, and Master Estienes, and Master
Follet, are all willing to swear the complaint, and anything else
you like, but we won’t leave here until that place has been
searched from top to bottom.”

Ranazy stopped in the middle of the street, seemed
for the first time to become aware of the crowd’s temper.
“Master—Nigaud, isn’t it?”

Nigaud nodded. Obviously, Eslingen thought, the man
was well known, a man of real importance in Point of Hopes—and not
the person we want standing against us.

“
Master, this house was searched
yesterday, and we found nothing. The children aren’t here.” Ranazy
spread his hands, the lantern and the clapper jangling.

“
Ranazy!” The shout came from the
end of the street. Rathe’s voice, Eslingen realized with real
relief, and in the same instant saw a tight knot of pointsmen,
maybe ten in all, turn the corner. They, too, carried lanterns, and
in their light Eslingen could see the dull gleam of armor under the
leather jerkins. They carried calivers as well, new-fashioned
flintlocks, as well as half-pikes and halberds: Rathe and his
people had come prepared for serious trouble.

“
I searched it myself,” Ranazy went
on, and Paas Huviet’s voice rose above the angry
murmuring.

“
You see? I told you they were
fee’d to let them go. Search the inn ourselves, we won’t get the
kids back any other way.”

“
Hold it,” Rathe shouted again, but
his voice was drowned in the roar of agreement.

“
Break in the door,” another voice
shouted. “Save the children.”

The journeymen surged toward the inn’s door.
Eslingen took a deep breath, and brought the pistol out from behind
his coat. “Stop there,” he called and leveled the barrel at the
knot of young men. At this distance he could hardly miss hitting
one of them, but he doubted they were cool enough to realize it.
Adriana pressed the hilt of his sword into his left hand and he
took it, already bracing himself for the rush that would follow the
first shot.

“
We’re willing to let the points
in,” he tried again, and Paas’s voice rose in answer.

“
Because you paid them. Get him!
”

“
I’ll fire,” Eslingen warned and
promised Areton an incense cake if the lock did not misfire. The
pointsmen were hurrying toward him, half-pikes held across their
bodies, but the bulk of the journeymen were between them and the
inn, and showed no sign of giving way.

“
Cowards!” Paas shouted. “Get the
Leaguer bastard!” He lunged for the door, drawing his knife, and
there were half a dozen men behind him. Eslingen swore again, and
pulled the trigger. The lock fired, the flash and bang of the
powder momentarily blinding everyone, and then he’d slung the
pistol behind him onto the inn’s floor and drew his sword
right-handed.

Paas staggered back, clutching his chest—the shot
was mortal, Eslingen knew instantly, and didn’t know whether he was
glad or sorry—and collapsed in the arms of the journeymen behind
him.

“
Hold it!” Rathe shouted again, and
he and his troop shoved their way through the crowd that seemed
abruptly chastened by the violence. “Nigaud, get your boys in hand,
or I’ll call points on the lot of you.”

“
He shot Paas,” one of the
journeymen called, and his voice broke painfully.

“
I saw it,” Rathe answered, “and I
saw Paas charge the door, too.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Where’s the nearest physician, Clock Street?” He seemed to get an
answer from one of the pointsmen, and nodded. “Fetch her, quick,
then, see what can be done for the boy. Now, Nigaud, what in
Astree’s name is going on here?”

“
They’re hiding the children,”
Nigaud said, and Eslingen let himself relax at last. Somehow,
exactly how he didn’t know, Rathe had gotten control of the
situation again. Astreiant’s common folk might not like giving one
of their own authority, but in a crisis, it seemed it was better
than nothing.

Rathe said, “The chief point herself searched this
house yesterday, and nothing was found. You’ve seen something that
makes you think they’re here now? I know you had people watching
this house, I saw them here this afternoon.”

Nigaud’s gaze faltered, but he rallied quickly
enough. “The chief point may have been here, but none of us were,
and the rest of the points were people like him.” He pointed to
Ranazy. “We know how much his fees are, we all pay them. The
Leaguer has money enough to buy his silence.”

Eslingen jumped as Devynck touched his shoulder.

“
Let me out,” she said, and he
stepped sideways to let her edge past him. “Rathe! I’m willing to
let the masters search my house this time, if only you’ll supervise
them, and I told them that all along.”

Rathe nodded, looked at Nigaud. “That’s more than
you have a right to, Master Nigaud, but I’m willing to go with you,
and the other masters here.”

Nigaud nodded back, but the well-dressed
master—Follet, Eslingen thought—said, “And what about Paas? He was
a hothead, but he was my journeyman.”

The physician had arrived from Clock Street, an
apprentice, barefoot and tousled, lugging her case of instruments.
She knelt beside the injured man, her movements brisk and certain,
but she looked up at that, and shook her head. “I’ve done what I
can. It’s in Demis’s hands now.”

In translation, Eslingen thought, he’s a dead man.
Why in Areton’s name didn’t I aim for something less mortal? The
damned astrologer got it all wrong. He shook the thought away—he’d
had no choice, if he’d missed Paas he would almost certainly have
hit one of the others in as deadly a spot—and looked at Rathe,
wondering what would happen now. Rathe looked back at him, his face
expressionless in the uncertain light of the lanterns and the dying
torches.

“
It’s manslaughter at the least,
though there’s an argument for self-defense. Eslingen, I’m calling
a point on you. Hand over your weapons and go quietly.”

Eslingen drew breath to protest, but swallowed the
words unspoken. The situation was still delicate, even he could see
that much, and surely Rathe was right when he hinted that he could
claim self-defense. “Very well,” he said shortly, and extended his
sword, hilt first, toward the pointsman.

Rathe took it, unsurprised by the weight and
balance, rested its point cautiously on the top of his boot. “And
the pistol?” Eslingen jerked his head toward the inn door. “Inside,
on the floor somewhere.”

“
Adriana! ” Rathe called, and a
moment later the woman appeared warily in the doorway. “Bring me
Eslingen’s pistol, please.”

For an instant, Eslingen thought she was going to
refuse, but she only tossed her head, and vanished back into the
shadows. She reappeared a moment later carrying the pistol, and
crossed the dooryard without looking at the butchers. Rathe took
the gun, slipping it into his belt beside his truncheon; Adriana
turned on her heel, and went to join her mother. The pointsman
looked back at Eslingen, who braced himself to hear the
sentence.

“
Benech and Savine will take you to
Point of Sighs.” He lifted his voice to carry to the crowd. “The
cells there are more secure than at Point of Hopes.” Eslingen
thought he saw a fugitive smile cross Rathe’s face. “And a bit more
comfortable than a stall, which is what ours are. Do you give me
your word you’ll go quietly, lieutenant?”

Eslingen hesitated, wondering if he shouldn’t run—he
could take the two pointsmen, of that he felt certain, and he had
killed the journeyman, not to mention being a Leaguer in the wrong
place at the wrong time—but then put the thought away. He hadn’t
stolen the children, and neither had Devynck; and if he ran, he
would only put her further in the wrong. “You have my word on it,”
he said, stiffly, and Rathe nodded.

“
Right, then. See that he gets
there safely.”