When I came home, a cracked pottery vase with a bunch of red gillyflowers in it sat in front of my door. In spite of myself, I smiled. Rosto, seemingly, doesn’t hold a grudge. And the flowers give a nice, spicy scent to my room.
Thursday, April 23, 246
We had just handed off the Rogue’s Happy Bag tonight when we got word of a brawl at the Doxie’s Skirt. We hobbled ten loobies and my nose was broken. It was healed at the kennel. I’m in no mood to write of my day – I’m going to bed.
Saturday, April 25, 246
Day.
No more word on the Shadow Snake since the 21st. Kora and I have talked with seven families. I have talked with three. All are true victims of the Snake.
After watch.
No more word on diggers. If anyone is hiring them, they are keeping it quiet. Last night Tunstall said over supper, “Sad thing for us, we got us some smart Rats. Stupid ones would have talked. They’d let word get out that they wanted diggers. Mayhap Crookshank has hired a crew already and he’s got them locked away, mining his fire opals under guard. And mayhap Crookshank knows we’re watching. If he checked his desk, he knows someone took those Shadow Snake notes. So he’s bound to be extra careful. But he’ll slip. Or them that does his dirty work will slip. We’ll have him then.”
I have to believe Tunstall. He’s been doing this for years. He knows best.
I just fear that each morning I’ll open my shutters and there will be new pigeons there with new ghosts, whispering about the pink city rock.
Tuesday, April 28, 246
Nothing. Nothing.
NOTHING!!!!!
Pox and murrain on the Snake, on Crookshank, on this curst city that keeps its secrets so close! Not another word will I write until I have SOMETHING!
Wednesday, April 29, 246
Dawn.
The funniest thing happened last night, though I was too sour to write it then. I came home from Granny’s early and knocked on Kora’s door to see if she was about and wanted to put together some kind of supper. She answered it in only her shift, though the day was cool and rainy. Moreover, I saw Ersken pulling on his breeches behind her.
“Come back in a little bit,” she said with a bashful smile. “We’ll be able to come up with a decent supper between the three of us. Aniki’s got something doing with Dawull and his people, so she’s not home.”
I looked past her at Ersken and wiggled my eyebrows. He blushed! Kora, seeing what I did, laughed and gave me a shove.
“Rosto?” I asked softly. I didn’t want Ersken ending up on the wrong end of Rosto the Piper’s blades.
“I’m my own mot and can say who shares my bed,” Kora told me. “Rosto knows.” She smiled. “We’re still friends, just not bed friends. I’ve someone cuddlier now.”
That was more than I needed to know, in truth. I backed up and let Kora shut the door.
Noon.
When we had breakfast this morning, Rosto presented Ersken with a sausage and bowed. I got the giggles whilst Verene stared at me.
“Would you like one?” Rosto asked me, holding up the sausage. I could only shake my head no whilst Ersken blushed.
It was nice to have aught to giggle about after having no news from Granny at all yesterday.
I am glad for Ersken and Kora both, particularly if Rosto’s nose isn’t out of joint. I don’t know if it will last, but Kora will treat Ersken well. And I think if she ends it, she will be kind.
I feel a bit lonely, seeing them together, but not so lonely as to tell Rosto I’ll be his second mot. Aniki seems happy to have him to herself, and I’m not so lonely as to start canoodling with a rusher.
Thursday, April 30, 246 Beltane
I must write about today, because so much has happened. I think the only way I can write it is to write of my watch, and do so as I lived it, without knowing how it will end. Elsewise, I’ll be unable to put it down sensibly, and there are things I want to remember.
We were out in force tonight. For Beltane, with the bonfires at sunset, a third of the Day and Night Watches are added to the Evening Watch. That’s when the most folk are out and about. Everyone who celebrates the day wants a chance to leap over the embers in hopes of a fruitful harvest of some kind. After the embers comes the fire, as the saying goes, whether folk are a pair before they came to the bonfire or just for the night. Even if people don’t want more children, they hope fertility will mean coin in their pockets and good fortune in the coming year.
With so many couples occupied and so many priests and priestesses to bless the goings-on, the robbers, foists, and cutpurses were also out. Beltane is a thieves’ holiday.
I was happy to be on duty with my Dogs. Canoodling is one of those things that’s more fun in the doing. I’ve done it once and kissed a bit, but never in public. Bagging Rats for Beltane was more to my taste. Besides, I’ve no one I wish to canoodle with.
Goodwin, Tunstall, Pounce, and me were on Koskynen Street when we heard noise in an alley leading off to Pottage Lane. The flicker of light told us whoever was in there had a torch. Tunstall put out a hand to warn us to wait. Pounce ran forward to the alley’s opening. He howled as if he was in battle with other cats and dashed back.
“On’y cats fightin’,” someone in the alley muttered. “Git ‘er earrings!” Thanks to Pounce, we knew we had found robbers.
Goodwin nodded. We all took our batons in one hand and our saps in the other. I was nervous. I hate it when I can’t see what we’re getting into. I quickly checked my gorget to make sure it was firmly tied. The thing bothered me, but suddenly I was glad for it.
Goodwin whispered, “Cooper, stay back unless it looks like one of us is about to get killed.” She strode forward as if she owned that alley. “In the King’s name!” she cried.
Tunstall was at weapon’s length to her side. I moved off to her right so no one could dodge around her. I hated keeping back, but I knew my orders.
There were four rushers. I knew them all from the Court of the Rogue. They were Kayfer’s men. They had planted a torch in the ground, the better to see what they did. A man dressed as richly as a noble lay on the ground, a big purple knot on the side of his head. They had stripped him of his weapons, his belt, even his boots. One of them held a well-dressed lady from behind, one hand over her mouth, another around her waist. Two more Rats were stripping off her rings, bracelets, and necklace. The fourth was cutting away the embroidered strips on her dress.
The fourth Rat was the first to drop what he did and unsheathe his sword. He was too slow to turn as Goodwin darted by him. She struck the back of his neck with her sap. He folded like wet cloth onto the muddy ground. The next Rat dropped the lady’s left arm and drew his sword. Goodwin raised her baton to block him.
The one who had been stripping the lady’s remaining arm of jewelry dropped it, leaving both her arms free. Now he drew his blade, dodging Tunstall as Tunstall struck with his baton. Tunstall turned as the Rat went into open ground to fight, keeping his baton between him and the sword.
The lady, her hands now loose, sank her nails into the hand over her mouth. The Rat who still held her grabbed one of her arms, but he couldn’t hold both and grip her waist. He lifted her off the ground, his mistake. Now she could kick back at him with both feet, and she did. A pity she wasn’t wearing clogs or pattens. She might have hurt him bad if she’d worn those instead of her pretty leather slippers.
The one Goodwin had struck down tried to stand. He fell sideways against her, knocking her aside. She stumbled and dropped to one knee, getting her baton up as she braced for a hit from the attacker. He saw his chance and lunged at her, blade raised.
I know it was cracknobbed, but I wasn’t close enough to use my baton, and I could see her baton was at the wrong angle. He’d have her.
I threw my sap at his head. He was moving, and I’m not that good at throwing small things. Of course I missed. He did swerve to dodge my sap. He looked about him. Tunstall folded his man over his baton and struck him on th
e head with his sap.
The Rat hanging on to the lady must not have been a thinker. He’d not yet seen it was time to kill her or dump her and run. He was still trying to get control of her. She finally got her teeth into the hand over her mouth. He grunted with pain and tried to shake her teeth loose, but she would not let go.
Goodwin put her whistle to her mouth and blew the call for help from Dogs.
The man I’d distracted with my sap saw he and his Rats were beaten. He cursed and ran.
“Puppy,” Goodwin said. She was getting to her feet to take the Rat who still clutched the lady, unless it was the lady clutching him with her teeth.
Goodwin didn’t have to say “fetch.” I grabbed my sap and took off after the fleeing Rat. I think I’d been hoping for a chance like this since I’d fetched Orva Ashmiller. For all the annoyance she’d given me, there was something clean in chasing a Rat. I’d naught else to think on, no birds or spinners to work out, no people to try to understand, no officials to talk to. It was just me, the Rat, and the alleys of the Lower City.
He tried to ditch me. He wasn’t as good at it as Orva, and he didn’t have hotblood wine to keep him going. He didn’t know the back ways so well, for all he belonged to the Court of the Rogue.
One of Kayfer’s lapdogs, I thought as I gained on him block by block. Not used to any real need to run or hide. Just serve the Rogue and be safe. Well, here’s safe for you, my buck, I told myself as I chased him straight into Whippoorwill Mews. Now you’re in a corner.
That’s when it occurred to us both that he had a sword and I a baton.
I grabbed my whistle and blew the call for help. I got it out once. Then he was on me, his sword coming down like a scythe. I gripped my baton at each end and swung it up to block. The sword bit into the wood, struck the lead core, and got stuck. The rusher cursed and kicked at me. I turned, taking his kick on my hip as I twisted my baton. I hoped to yank the sword from his grip but he pulled it free.
He cut sidelong at me. Still holding my baton at each end, I blocked him a second time. He yanked the blade back, taking a chip out of my wood. I scooped my own kick forward and up, between his legs, and slammed a metal codpiece with my foot. Had it been solid metal, not pieces, I might’ve hurt myself. Instead it gave way under my kick. The rusher groaned, his eyes rolling up in his head.
I hadn’t seen him draw a dagger with his free hand. It slid just past my right side, slicing my loose tunic and shirt.
I leaped back. We’d both made mistakes. I hadn’t minded what he was doing with his left hand. He’d not guarded himself against my feet, thinking me a green Pup. Now we’d both learned sommat. He thrust his dagger back into its sheath and kept his sword on guard before him, steadied with both hands. I went from side to side, looking for an opening.
“Don’t be a looby,” I told him, panting. “Give up now or when the other Dogs come, it’s up to you. You’re cornered here.”
You’re really cornered, I heard Pounce say.
“Lay down your sword, in the King’s name,” Tunstall ordered. He’d come up close behind me. “You are under arrest.”
The rusher spat on the ground. Then he placed his long blade gently on a dry patch of stone. “Wasn’t about to surrender to no pimple-faced puttock,” he said. He spat again, aiming for my boots.
“The dagger, too,” I said. I didn’t want to pick up the sword until I was sure he’d no more blades.
“You heard her.” Goodwin had come along with Tunstall. “Stop wasting time. Your friends will go to the cages without you. You don’t want to miss that.”
“We’ll be out before dawn,” he told us. “Th’ Rogue’ll see to ‘t.”
My tripes clenched. I knew he spoke the truth. “Dagger,” I said, my hand sweaty on my baton’s grip. “Don’t make me kick you twice.”
Tunstall and Goodwin moved to stand on either side of me, their batons in their hands. I heard other Dogs behind us. They’d been called by my whistle.
“Where’d she kick you?” Tunstall asked him, as if to pass the time.
The rusher cursed me. Then he fumbled for his dagger and lurched forward to put it by the sword.
“I’ll wager I know,” Goodwin said. The torchlight gleamed on her teeth as she grinned. “Thought our little terrier was wore out from the chase, did you? I guess she taught you. Cooper, get his weapons.”
I picked them up, handing them hilt first to Goodwin. Tunstall grabbed the rusher and shoved him against a nearby house, bringing out a thong to bind the rusher’s hands. I stepped in to search the man. I found boot knives and a knife for the back of his neck. I moved off with a nod to show I’d found the last of his arms.
“Not so fast.” Goodwin came close. She spoke quiet, so the two Dogs who watched us couldn’t hear. “These liars’ fanfares do more than protect a man’s treasure in a fight.” She reached around the rusher and grabbed his metal codpiece.
“Oh, sweet one,” the cove said with a moan, “my lovey, my – “
“Shut up.” Goodwin yanked the codpiece hard. Buttons popped as it came off. The rusher choked on a yell, his eyes rolling. “What kind of scut chafes a Dog who holds his treasures? See, Cooper?” She held it up and slid a coil of wire out of an inner pocket of the piece. Rawhide loops were secured to its ends.
I drooped. I know I drooped. I’d been thinking so well of myself till that moment.
“You missed one, Cooper,” Tunstall said, his voice soft. “But you didn’t let him kill you with that knife, eh?” He shoved the rusher to the Dogs who waited behind us. “Will you take this one along to the collectors? Don’t feel you have to be tender with him.”
“Cut-coin looby, not having a solid metal scoop like the knights wear,” Goodwin remarked, watching the cove waddle off with the Dogs. “Cheap and very stupid – though you don’t see the strangling cord in the cod trick that often. Maybe his mother taught it to him. Cooper, everyone makes mistakes. You just try not to die from them. Let’s see your baton.”
I handed it over, feeling a touch better. I reminded myself to tell Verene and Ersken about the strangling cord. Our teachers hadn’t mentioned that one. Mayhap it wasn’t that popular. They’d mentioned rushers keeping wire and rope cords in a dozen other odd places.
Pounce wound between my feet. I brought Goodwin and Tunstall, he told me. I knew you’d catch that idiot.
Goodwin returned my baton to me. “Not bad for a sword fight. Get the chunk he took out of it fixed before training tomorrow. Come on, Cooper. The night isn’t over yet.” Goodwin steered me out of the mews. Tunstall kept step with us.
“That’s low,” he said as we set off toward our assigned part of town again. “Setting on a couple at Beltane.” He must have known what I was about to ask, because he said, “The young lord’s got a dented head. There was a healer coming when we left to catch up with you. Maybe he’ll be an idiot, maybe not, but that’s up to the healers his da can afford. The lady’s shaken, but she’s not hurt. And your clever cat brought us straight to you.” He leaned down and picked up Pounce. “Otherwise some other Dogs might have been the ones to teach you about the strangling cord.”
“The lordling’s an idiot already,” Goodwin said. She still had her baton out. Now she set it to spinning, casual-like. “Coming into the Lower City with all that flash. Her too. Is it real, do you suppose?”
Tunstall scratched Pounce’s ears. “As real as it gets. You know how it is with these moneyed types, Clary. They think the Common instead of Palace Hill is exciting. Wicked, even.”
“Dangerous, even,” Goodwin replied, her voice mocking. They continued to talk like that, back and forth, gentle-like. That lasted until we ran into the brawl outside the Merry Mead.
The evening continued busy, with no time for supper. Our assigned patrol took us up to the Common. That was luck for hungry Dogs. Each Beltane, Mistress Noll set up a little tent there to sell ready-baked treats. Goodwin sent me over with our coin.
The only maggot in the pasty was Yat
es. He waited on folk alongside his mother. When I stepped up to the counter, he gave me the ugly eye but dared to say not a word about our last meeting in the Daymarket. I filled my handkerchief and thanked Mistress Noll as I handed over our coin. When I went to give our quick meal to my Dogs, I saw they had found Yates’s two friends, the ones I’d seen that afternoon at the Daymarket. Tunstall had placed one of them against a tree. Goodwin used her baton to keep the other at a respectful distance. Seemingly they’d been making deliveries to Mistress Noll’s tent here, too.
“I just don’t see you scuts helping an old lady from the goodness of your heart, Gunnar,” Tunstall was telling his Rat. Tunstall’s baton tip was pressed under Gunnar’s chin, where it made a deep dimple. “You’re rough work. You’ve always been rough work. So if I hear of you harming a hair on Deirdry Noll’s nob, I’ll break yours, understand?”
“You got it wrong, Dog.” Gunnar was the blond cove I’d seen at Yates’s counter in the Daymarket. “Yates’d kill us for it, wouldn’t he?” He looked at the other cove who’d carried flour that day.
“Cut us twelve ways from midnight,” the other Rat told us. “We’d never cross ‘im. Never.”
“Good,” Tunstall said, and lowered his baton. After a moment, so did Goodwin. The two Rats didn’t waste time in getting clear of us.
I offered my Dogs their pasties.
“Funny,” Tunstall said, taking one. “I never found Yates Noll so fearsome.”
“No more I,” replied Goodwin. “And if we’d time to dig deeper, we might, but we need to get down to the Nightmarket. Things are cooling down here.”
It was true. The priests were letting the fires go out. More and more folk were rising from the grass. They would be bound for the taverns and the market to buy trinkets and memories of the night.