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"Together," said Locke. "You didn't leave me in Camorr, or Vel Virazzo. The hell if I'll leave you here."
Jean scowled, grabbed the rail and stared down at the water. "It's a damn shame," he said at last. "All that money at the Sinspire. Pity we'll never get it out. Or the other things."
Locke gri
"We've left a few parts of our story untold, Zamira. Forgive us. Sometimes these schemes get a bit heavy to haul around. We, ah, have a few thousand solari on the books at the Sinspire. Hell, I'd let you have my share if there was any way to get it, but the point is moot."
"If only we" d found someone in the city to hold some of it for us," said Jean.
"No use wailing over spilled beer," said Locke. "I doubt we cultivated a single friend in Tal Verrar that we weren't hiring or tipping. Sure could use a fucking friend now." He joined Jean at the rail and pretended to be as absorbed in the sea as the bigger man did, but all he could think of were shrouded bodies splashing into the water.
Bodies falling, just as he and Jean had pla
"Wait a gods-damned minute," said Locke, "A friend. A friend. That's what we fucking need. We've spun Stragos and Requin like plates. Who haven't we even bothered to deal with in the past two years? Who have we been ignoring?" "The temples?" "Good guess, but no — who's got a direct stake in this bloody mess?" "The Priorir
"The Priori" said Locke. "Those fat, secretive, co
"No. Gods, nobody takes him seriously. Who could move the Priori to do something absolutely rash? Who's been around long enough either to command respect or pull strings to enforce it? I
Conjuring on the political realities of the Priori was akin to divination by chicken entrails, thought Locke. There were three tiers of seven in the merchant councils; the purpose of every seat on the lower two was public knowledge. Only the names of the I
"Both. Either. Marius is I
"I know that fucking look on your face! I'm sure either Cordo's the one you want; pity we've never met the bastards." Jean stared at Locke with a wary expression. "You do have that look on your face. What do you mean to do?"
"I mean… what if I mean to have it all? Why are we plotting suicide as a first option? Why don't we at least try first? Get to Requin. Pull the job. Get to Stragos. Squeeze an answer or an antidote out of him. Then give it to him, one way or another." Locke mimed shoving a dagger into an invisible Archon of Tal Verrar. It was so satisfying he mimed it again. "How the hell do we do this?"
"That's a grand question," said Locke. "The best question you" ve ever asked. I know we need some things. First, the way it's been lately, every person in Tal Verrar is likely to be waiting for us at the docks with crossbows and torches. We need better disguises. Shoddiest priesthood of the Twelve?" "Callo Androno," said Jean. "Begging His forgiveness, you" ve got it," said Locke.
Callo Androno, Eyes-on-the-Crossroads, god of travel, languages and lore. His itinerant priests as well as his settled scholars disdained finery, taking pride in the roughness of their garments.
"Zamira," said Locke, "if there's anyone on board who can still push a needle and thread, we need two robes. Make them from sailcloth, spare clothes, anything. I hate to say it, but there's got to be a lot of spare clothing lying around now."
"The survivors will dice for the goods and I'll share out the coin among them," she said. "But I can claim a few things first."
"And we need something blue," said Locke. "The blue Androni headbands. As long as we wear those, we're holy men, not just ill-dressed vagrants."
"Ezri's blue tunic," said Jean. "It's… it" d be in her cabin, where she left it. It's a bit faded, but—"
"Perfect,7 said Locke. "Now, Zamira, when we came back from our first visit to Tal Verrar with this ship, I gave you a letter for safekeeping. It has Requin's seal on it. Jerome, I need you to finesse that thing off like Chains showed us. You're better at it than me, and it has to be good."
"I suppose I can try. I'm not sure… how good I can be at anything right now." "I need your best. I need you to do it. For me. For her." "Where do you want the seal moved?"
"Clean parchment. Paper. Anything. Do you have one sheet, Zamira?"
"A full sheet? I don't think Paolo and Cosetta have left us any. But several of them are only partially scribbled on; I may be able to cut one in half."
"Do it. Jerome, you'll find some of the tools you need in my old sea-chest, in Zamira's cabin. Can he use it, and some lanterns, Captain?"
"Paolo and Cosetta refuse to come out of the rope locker," said Zamira. "They" re too upset. I" ve brought bed things and alchemical lights down for them. The cabin is at your disposal." "You'll need your cards, too," said Jean. "Or so I presume."
"Hell yes, I mean to use the cards. I'll need them, plus the best set of gear we can scrape together. Daggers. Short lengths of cord, preferably demi-silk. Coin, Zamira — tight little purses of fifty or sixty solari in case we have to buy our way past a problem. And some coshes. If you don't have any, there's sand and sail-canvas—" "And a pair of hatchets," said Jean. "There's two in my cabin. I took them out of your chest, actually."
"What?" A flicker of excitement actually crossed Jean's face. "You have them?"
"I needed a pair. I didn't know they were special, otherwise I'd have given them back when you came off the scrub watch—" "Special? They" re more like family than weapons," said Locke.
"Yes, thank the gods. So how does this all fall together, then?" said Jean. "As I said, excellent question, one I intend to ponder at length—"
"We won't see Tal Verrar again until tomorrow night if this weather holds," said Zamira. "I guarantee you'll have a good long time to ponder. And you'll be doing most of it up the foremast as top-eyes. I still need you to make yourself useful."
"Of course," said Locke. "Of course. Captain, when we come in to Tal Verrar, bring us from the north, if you would. Whatever else we do, our first stop needs to be the Merchants" Quarter." "Cordo?" asked Jean.
"Cordo," said Locke. "Older or Younger, I don't care. They'll see us if we have to crawl in through their gods-damned windows."