The Quarrygate Gambit, page 3
“My feet can only take so much,” she said. “So you pull all this, just for me?”
“And Kennith and Jhoqull.”
“And Jarret?”
“He’s a good man,” Asti said. Perhaps too good, at least to be in the same room as Asti for too long, but he was a decent man who had saved Raych when it mattered, and was good to Helene. Asti tried to have no feud with the man.
“For you to say that about a stick is a lot.”
“I’m feeling generous tonight.”
“All right,” she said, moving her chair closer. “So all this, I know, is still just a front. A thoughtful one, but I know better.”
“What do you think you know?”
“This,” she said quietly. “All this, the whole reputable citizen act. It’s just a part of your whole scheme for stopping the Andrendon thing, whatever that is. Don’t tell me you’re not still on it, you and Verci, because I know you must be.”
“This has nothing to do with that,” Asti said. “Honest.”
“But there is a ‘that,’” Helene pressed. “You are working a scheme on Andrendon.”
“And you’re going to be a constable’s wife soon,” Asti said. “And that’s a far better thing for you than being messed up in our business.”
“Your business is still my business,” Helene said. “You don’t need to fence me out.”
“Helene, it’s fine, you don’t need to—”
“Asti,” she said firmly, “I’ll remind you that my gran was killed by this business. You don’t need me for what you’re working, fine, I know you’ll call on me when you need a shot taken. But do not fence me out. Let me know you are handling it.”
Asti nodded. Even with her marrying Covrane, he owed it to her to be straight. “It’s in long ploy right now. The Andrendon involves money guys from goldsmith houses, and some folks in the City Council of Aldermen. We’re still unraveling all the details for now.”
“All right,” she said. “How?”
“Verci and I are ingratiating ourselves with the college boys in the ‘mechanical firm’ who are designing and building what will become the Andrendon. Which will put us in a position to sabotage it, if the opportunity arrives.” He sighed. “And if we decide it’s right to do so.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? These folks—”
“These folks didn’t care how many of us they killed to make this happen, and that I will reckon with, have no doubt,” Asti said. “But . . . the Andrendon . . .” He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, he barely understood himself. Underground carriages with steam-pulled cables, and people would be able to ride all over the city in a snap. Building the damn thing, and then keeping it running, that would be jobs. Jobs in this neighborhood. “The thing itself, it might be a good thing for folks around here, in the long run.”
“How could it, given the cost?”
“Like I said, the folks who burned us, they will be reckoned with. But the thing itself, it . . . I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t a real good idea, and if trying to sabotage it is the wrong move.”
She scowled, but patted his shoulder. “I don’t see how, but I do trust you here.”
“Thanks.”
“Now I should go save my soon-to-be mother-in-law from Almer,” she laughed, getting up. “And for the love of the saints, give Kimber a dance at least, hmm?”
* * *
The night had worn down, and many people had said their goodnights and left, but Raych was enjoying a rare, carefree night in a pub, Corsi at her sister’s. It had been far too long since she had done such a thing.
Plus it was delightful watching Verci, who had had just enough beers to join the band and show off his skill in belting out bar ballads. It had become something of a challenge, where he let the band pick any song they could think of, and he’d be able to join in without missing a beat. He was currently crooning one Raych had never even heard of, about the blessed skies over Korifina.
She wearily sat down next to Asti. “Where did he learn how to do that?” she asked.
“The real story?” Asti asked back.
She chuckled. “You know I always want the real story.”
“When we were kids, Pop made sure we knew every street trick for hustling coin. Picking pockets, quick grifts, the whole barn. But he also made sure we knew the cleaner ones as well. So he taught us a whole mess of ballads and lover songs and call-ups and shants from every part of Druthal. And Verci had the better voice for it, as you can hear.”
“Not you? I thought you mastered all sorts of skills.”
“I can carry it, mind you, if I have to,” he said. “My clean grift was doing charcoal sketches. I could do a sketch of a fellow and his sweetheart in two blinks, and sell it for a few ticks. But Verci could suss out where a man was from by his accent, and sing the exact song that would make him homesick, and easily get a half-crown in his hat.”
“So why didn’t you all keep doing that?”
“Pop said—and we were just boys, mind you—that we should know how to do honest work, if we had to, but it’s a much more joyful life to not have to.”
“Your father was a strange man,” she said.
“There are times,” Asti said, with a weary sigh, “that I would have preferred he had been a simple baker who taught us how to make bread.”
“If you really want, you can come to the bakery and still learn.”
“You’d have me there?” he asked, and for a moment there was a hint of a broken little boy in his voice.
She rested her hand on his. “We’re family, Asti Rynax. That’s not just something I say, all right?”
“All right.”
“Who’s wants to try and stump me?” Verci called out.
Raych looked up. “Can you do the ‘Song of the Trerliana’?”
“Oh, hmm,” Verci said, an exaggerated look of dismay on his face. “I mean, that’s not even a Druth song. It’s a folk piece from, what, the Myam Province of Acseria?” He took an instrument from one of the musicians. “Which, if you didn’t know, is where my wife’s family came from, so it would be absurd for me not to know it.”
He started to pluck the strings and sing words Raych had known since she was a child, but had never heard from her husband’s mouth.
“I am an honest man
Who loves the life I live
Full of love and joy and blessing
And the songs that I give.”
Raych’s heart leapt, and that took her up on her feet before she even realized she was doing it, and then turned and took Asti’s hand, pulling him out to the floor.
She had always known the steps, mother would always dance them, back when her grandparents were around. For a moment, she was a little girl again, dancing with her mother and Lian, words and steps that were written on her heart.
And, to her amazement, Asti was right there with her, he knew the dance. Knew it like her father had, like he himself had growing up in Damyar. He swept her around the floor, every step perfect, while her husband’s voice, his immaculate playing, filled her spirit in ways she had forgotten it could be.
By the last chorus, the rest of the musicians had picked up on the tune and the rhythm and were fully with him, filling the taproom with the sounds of her family.
The song ended, but her heart still pounded, her face flush as she whirled away from Asti in the final move, almost falling into a table. She laughed as Helene caught her, and she looked back to Asti, who was smiling broadly. She had never seen that on his face before. And Verci was radiant, the same joy on his face that was in her spirit.
“Still full of surprises,” she told him.
“I always will be,” Verci said.
Then the front door was kicked in, and men in uniform, crossbows raised, swarmed into bar.
“What is this—” Kimber started, and got one of them pointing a crossbow right in her face for it.
“Shut it!” one of the uniformed men shouted at her. “All of you, hands high, on your knees.”
Asti and Verci followed those instructions faster than anyone, but Covrane stepped forward.
“Now just a moment here—”
That earned him the butt of a crossbow cracked across his nose.
“Jarret!” Helene shouted, leaping to grab him before he collapsed to the ground.
“Down on your knees, everyone!” the man who clobbered Covrane said.
“Officers,” Asti said, with infuriating calm. “What seems to be the issue here?”
“Shut it, or you’ll get it, too!” another of the uniforms said.
Raych complied, looking to Verci. He mouthed something to her, but she couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. But he looked to Asti. Follow Asti’s lead. He could handle this. He could tear these fellows up without even breaking a sweat, but yet he was on his knees, hands high, doing what he was told.
He was calm, she would be calm as well.
Another man came in, his uniform marked with epaulets.
“These the ones, Chief?” the one aiming at Kimber asked.
“Yes, indeed,” the chief said. “My apologies, people. We are here to apprehend some very dangerous people who are wanted for plots against the Archduchy of Sauriya and the crown.” He pointed to Asti and Verci. “Those two.”
“What?” Verci asked. “I’m sorry but—”
A crossbow but cracked against his face. Raych wanted to scream, but she couldn’t even breathe.
“We’ll go quietly,” Asti said.
“Wise,” the chief said. “Also him, him, him, him, and him.” He had pointed out Julien, Almer, Kennith, Pilsen, and Vellun.
“What?” Helene screeched.
“What is going—” Julien started.
“Just a damned minute here,” Covrane said, his nose bleeding. The officer who had hit him raised his weapon to do it again, but this time Covrane caught it and tore it from the man’s hands. The officer drew his sword in response. “I am a lieutenant in the city Constabulary!” Covrane roared at him.
“Lieutenant, this is a matter for the Archduchy,” the chief said. “We’re taking these men into custody, you do not need to involve yourself.”
“Name their charges,” Covrane said.
“Those are under seal,” the chief said.
“We’ll go quietly,” Asti said firmly. He glared at everyone in the room, as if to send a message to each and every person there. “We’ll give you no quarrel. This is clearly a misunderstanding that will be cleared up.”
One of the officers took Asti’s hands and shackled them behind his back, and did the same to Verci, Julien, Pilsen, Vellun, Almer, and Kennith. Jhoqull and her family all looked like they were ready to tear the Archduchy officers to shreds, Helene red with rage as Julien’s eyes welled with tears. Kimber was weeping in terror.
Raych couldn’t feel anything, could barely even hear or see. Her body was numb, like this wasn’t real. It had to be a trick, some ploy. Was that why Asti was going quietly? Was that what Verci was trying to say to her?
The officers pulled the men out of the taproom, one by one. Verci was the last one they were taking out, and Raych’s legs found their strength. She ran up to him, grabbed his whole body and kissed him, kissed him like she’d never see him again.
The knot in the pit of her stomach told her she wouldn’t.
One of the officers pulled her off Verci and threw her to the floor.
“Hey!” Verci snapped, and that officer smacked him across his face. Verci looked up, blood on his lip and grinned an ever so vicious grin. “I’ll remember you, friend, have no doubt.”
Hands were on her arms and shoulders, Helene and Jhoqull helping her to her feet.
“Verci!” she shouted.
“I love you,” he said calmly as they pulled him to the door. “It’s going to be fine.”
Then he was gone.
Raych’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and if Helene and Jhoqull hadn’t been holding her up, she would have melted into the floor.
Chapter 3
EACH OF THEM WERE LOADED into a different lockwagon, and Verci sat in the back of his, arms shackled behind his back, two guards with him, both with swords out. Whatever this was, they weren’t playing around.
Uniforms were Archduchy Sheriffs, or at least excellent replicas. Same with the lockwagon and the shackles. Either these were the real thing, or someone with a lot of resources to spare was behind it.
Verci’s fingers probed at the shackles. Could he get out of them? Yes, he could, but it would take dislocating his thumb, a trick he was never very good at. He didn’t have anything handy to pick the lock, not that he could get to his hand without being noticed, else he’d take that route any day.
“What are you looking at?” one of his guards asked.
“The man who shoved my wife on the floor,” Verci said. “Let me make it clear, that’s going to have a reckoning, friend, one way or another.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.”
Verci was of half a mind to dislocate his thumb, pull one hand free from the shackles, and clobber this man with them. Then take his sword, use it to skewer his companion, crack open the doors of the lockwagon, and jump out into the street.
He would if he was certain he could pull it off. He was a good enough fighter when he had to be, and could probably manage it, but he had had enough to drink that he knew his reflexes were off, but not enough to be foolhardy. Also, the others were each in their own lockwagon, and he didn’t know where they were going. From what he could hear, they weren’t even necessarily all taking the same route.
They were heading southwest, though. An Archduchy Sheriff Waystation would be outside the city, after all.
Asti said to go quietly, it would get sorted. Verci trusted in that.
Even still, he memorized the man’s features, and would have that reckoning when the time came.
The wagon finally came to a halt, the door popped open, and several men came in to take Verci out. On some level he was flattered by the lengths they went to here. The building he was being brought into, it definitely looked like a real Sheriff Waystation. If this was a ruse, they were pulling out all the stops.
Two men gave him a quick search—for once he wasn’t carrying any gadgets or weapons, but they did miss the screwtool he managed to get out of his pocket and palm—and then put him in a cell. A few minutes later, Asti was thrown in with him. Asti grabbed him in an embrace as soon as the door was shut.
“So, not how I expected our evening to end,” Verci said when they pulled away.
“Likewise,” Asti said, brushing himself off.
“I presume you decided to comply because it would have been too messy to fight in the middle of Kimber’s, with several other people there.”
“Mostly, but something is off,” Asti said.
“You think?” Verci said. “We’ve not done anything that qualifies as crimes against the archduchy or crown. At least, I’m reasonably certain we haven’t.”
“These fellows seem to be the real deal,” Asti said. “And they didn’t give any sort of professional courtesy to Covrane.”
“You think the problem here is one of courtesy?” Verci asked.
“There are a lot of problems here,” Asti said. He moved closer, voice down. “They didn’t name charges, which is odd. Even when pressed by Covrane.”
“I’ve never heard of charges being under seal,” Verci said. Law officers were supposed to follow the rules on that, telling someone what they were being arrested for. “What does that mean, they don’t have to say what you’re arrested for?”
“Archduchy Sheriffs have a little more latitude,” Asti said. “I’ve not heard that term before, but Covrane didn’t push back on it.”
“So it likely is a legitimate term?”
“But there’s more than not naming charges,” Asti said, moving on. “They didn’t name us. That chief sheriff, you seen him before?”
“No.”
“Me either. But he walked into a room with at least twenty people and quickly picked out you and me, plus Ken, Almer, Vellun, Pilsen, and Julien. An extremely specific group of people, involved in the things we have done together. Who would know that?”
“But they didn’t grab Helene,” Verci said. “Or Raych, depending on which job we’re talking about.”
“Right. Or Jhoqull. So this has something to do with us, as a group, but excludes them. Just because they’re women?”
“Can we rule out Josie, some sort of revenge?” Verci asked. The last time he had seen Josie Holt, still easily the biggest criminal boss in North Seleth, he and Raych had poisoned her for leverage.
“I’m not ruling out anything, but I don’t think she has the kind of rattle to arrange something like this.”
“Who does?”
“That is the question.”
“Someone connected to Mendel Tyne?” Verci offered.
Asti thought about that. “Possible, but Vellun wasn’t a part of that.”
“Lord Henterman?” Verci offered. “We were all in on that.”
“That opens up several other possibilities. Like her,” Asti said. Verci understood, he meant Liora Rand, Asti’s former partner in Intelligence, whose infiltration of Henterman’s home had been ruined by their scheme.
“Does she have this kind of rattle?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but she is full of surprises.”
“So,” Verci said, glancing around. “I presume they took your knives.”
“Missed one. You?”
“Screwtool is all I have, but that hallway isn’t being walked, so I can probably spring the door in a few minutes, and it’s three doors and eight guards between us and the outside, at least.”
“And we don’t know where the others are.”
“So you don’t want to crack out?”
Asti shook his head. “There’s one of two things happening right now. We’ve been mistaken for someone else, or we’ve been targeted. Most likely both, that someone targeted us so we would be mistaken by the sheriffs. That they’re the marks in a ploy to get at us.”
