LITMIR.BIZ

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Larry and pulled him close so he couldn’t be overheard. ‘We need to get clean. Del Garza’s men are out looking for sewer rats. Right now, we not only look like them, but we smell like them. We have to get clean, and it would help if we didn’t look like Mockers for a little while. That’s why we’re here, instead of trying to get clean using someone’s rain barrel or washing off in the Old Square Fountain.’ He turned to look at the door warden. ‘Just pretend you’re someone and keep quiet.’

      Jimmy walked up to the man. The door warden’s nose wrinkled – Well, I can’t blame him, thought Jimmy – and his eyes narrowed; a thick-knuckled hand went to the vinewood club.

      Wordlessly, Jimmy held up a silver coin the size of his thumbnail. I’ve known this sort of thing to work, he thought, schooling his face to look embarrassed and supercilious at the same time. I’ve just never been able to afford bathing in a proper bathhouse, before.

      He’d never been much of one for bathing in general, either; but associating with lords and princesses, even for a short while, tended to alter your standards. He discovered that enduring a bucket of cold water and some soap every day or two earned him approval from the Princess Anita, and that had been worth it. He had also discovered he itched a lot less and felt better afterwards.

      ‘My good man, we need to bathe,’ he said, shaping the tones of an upper-class accent. ‘And to buy fresh clothing.’

      ‘Ye certainly need the bath,’ the man grumbled. ‘Lousy too, no doubt.’

      ‘Not in the least. We’ve been out on a …’ Jimmy let his expression grow sheepish. ‘Well, we’d rather our parents didn’t find out, and …’ He finished in a rush: ‘You can have this yourself?’

      Suspicion gave way to contempt as Jimmy handed over the coin; which was fine with him.

      ‘We were attacked by street boys,’ Jimmy chattered on – overexplaining made guilt look more plausible. ‘They stole our clothes and pushed us in a sty. The maid at home gave us some coins to get cleaned up. Please, sir, my mother is very strict and she’ll be very, very angry if we go home in this condition.’ Jimmy had always been good at mimicry, and the time spent with Prince Arutha and Princess Anita had given him a wealth of new ways to speak when he needed. He sounded plausible in the role of the son of a minor noble or rich merchant. As long as Larry remembered to keep his mouth shut.

      He and Larry had more than enough scrapes and bruises to make their story seem authentic. Knocking about in dark sewers and climbing walls and houses had added a good share of cuts as well.

      ‘Go on through,’ the door warden said. ‘You can use the baths, but rinse off good first. You’ll have to find your own clothes – this isn’t a tailor’s shop, lads.’

      They went through; the door warden spoke a few words in the ear of the woman who sat by bathers’ clothes so they wouldn’t be lifted, and her scowl cleared a bit.

       ‘I’ll not put those wipe-rags near honest folk’s clothing,’ she said.

      ‘Take them away and burn them,’ Jimmy instructed, as he and Larry stripped. That was in character; even rags were worth something, and the woman would undoubtedly get a few coppers for them. She nodded and smiled, and Jimmy knew that later that night she would be boiling them clean and selling them to a rag peddler by this time tomorrow.

      ‘You, boy,’ Jimmy said, beginning to enjoy himself. One of the attendants put down his broom and came over.

      ‘My brother and I will require new garments,’ Jimmy said loftily. He looked at the boy before him and estimated that he was just between his and Larry’s size. ‘I need you to buy us some new things. Trousers, shirts and linen,’ he instructed. ‘Something just too large to fit you for me, and something just too small to fit you for my brother. We’ll have to do without shoes and stockings, I suppose.’ He glanced at Larry who nodded, a supercilious expression on his face. ‘The colours should be muted,’ he went on, sighing at the confused expression on the boy’s face. ‘Nothing red or orange or patterned,’ he explained.

      He counted out five small silvers, more than enough for the items. ‘You may keep the change,’ Jimmy said, ensuring that it would be. ‘And if you hurry back, you shall have this.’ He held up two more silver coins.

      ‘Thank you, sir,’ the boy said, tugging his forelock, and rushed off.

      ‘Shall we enjoy the steam room while we wait?’

      Larry sniffed his arm and made a face. ‘Yes!’ he said fervently.

      Clean and dressed, the two of them headed for the Poor Quarter. They looked respectable enough, like apprentices, perhaps, except for their lack of shoes, so it was reasonable to think themselves fairly safe in the respectable parts of town. But under the circumstances they couldn’t make themselves feel safe, a fact never far from their minds.

      In the Poor Quarter their new clothes might raise a passing eyebrow, but it would be obvious from their attitude that they belonged and that the first glance wouldn’t be followed by a second.

      Ordinarily, that is. But then, under ordinary circumstances there would be street children and beggars everywhere, and not a few whores plying their trade. Now, as the two boys walked along they found the streets nearly deserted. The few people walking about were mostly grown men, their eyes constantly moving, and from them Jimmy and Larry received a great deal of attention. It felt as if they were surrounded by the secret police.

      ‘I can’t take this,’ Larry said. ‘I keep expectin’ someone to grab my neck. I’m goin’ to the Rest.’

      Jimmy shook his head. ‘Not me. I’ve had enough of sewers for one day. I’m for a drink.’

      The younger boy shook his head. ‘Not tonight.’ He looked at Jimmy for a moment. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, and it was almost a question.

      Jimmy nodded. ‘Tomorrow.’ He made it sound like a promise.

      They separated then, without so much as a backward glance; Larry disappearing into the gloom of an alleyway, Jimmy walking along the street.

      As he walked, Jimmy thought.

      The mortared collar needs to go, and we’ve got to do it some way that won’t draw the guards. That was easier said than done. Drugs? he wondered. It would have to be something potent, to make them oblivious to the noise of stonework.

      But there was no way to get to the guards without going to gaol, wherein getting at the guards was problematic at best.

      Deep down an idea stirred. Too formless yet to grasp, Jimmy let it go and simply followed his feet, trying not to think at all. He’d found that sometimes ideas were like that, they’d flee if you pursued them, but they just might come to you if you just left them be.

      He walked along, hands in his pockets, eyes on his bare toes, listening to the sounds around him for quite a while, and quite a way. Finally he stopped and looked up to find himself before a tavern. There wasn’t a sign, unless you counted the anatomically-based scratchings on the once-plastered wall, but there was a withered bunch of branches pinned above the door. That let out the noise of voices, the smell of rushes not changed in a long time, and much spilled beer.

      Ah, yes, he grinned, and went in. Where else? My feet are smarter than my head tonight; they’ve led me straight to the place I want. It wasn’t until this moment that Jimmy realized that what he really needed was magic. How else were they going to do it? And where else in Krondor would he find a magician willing to help him? Nowhere else.

      And there was only one magician within a week’s travel who wouldn’t ask too many questions first, or tell someone else: Asher.

      The few magicians in the principality with enough power or wealth to avoid being hunted down by locals for perceived curses – dead calves, curdled milk, crops to fail – all tended to keep to themselves. There was a three-storey stone house with a courtyard, near the southeastern gate to the city, that was reputed to be the occasional

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