The Cat's Eye, Book I, Part VI

The Cat's Eye

Book I, Part VI

It didn’t take Chaku long to realize she’d been underpaid for the job. Normally, if a fancy lady’s maid came to her with rich people problems, she could trust them to part easily with their money for little things. A lack of perspective meant she could get a gold piece from them for a couple hours a night tracking a husband’s catting around, maybe two or three to help facilitate some catting by letters--even ruining some unlucky sow’s rose garden was a pouch full of silvers in her hand.

Shadowing a circus boy the whole night for four silvers was a sickeningly fair deal, but Chaku could swim with it. Harder to take was shadowing a circus boy as six hard soldiers led him through one of the worse parts of town. She’d seen--lived in--worse enough back home and grown used to it. The boy, on the other hand, was a soft one, drawing enough attention that she barely had to try to blend despite her much darker skin. Any one of the creeps in Iacosi’s run could eat him alive. The only reason they didn’t was owing to the whole other breed of danger he’d gotten himself surrounded by.

Waters turned white not long after she’d picked up their trail, when fat old Iacosi sent around some of his rough-handed boys, killing in their faces, the tools in hand. She’d hid, of course, and tried to figure some way to sneak the boy out of the situation, what with his mean friends unarmed, but she’d seen it all wrong. The soldiers took Iacosi’s lot apart easy as you please, snatched the weapons and finished the thing. The boy hadn’t done bad for himself, either; still breathing, which is good enough. He’d made a right fool of the fellow who’d taken a knife to him, bending and dancing around on cat’s feet until his big friend gave the youth’s skull a knock, and she thought maybe the boy would wise up, but he stuck around.

Chaku was quiet enough to follow them close even as they got further out and she ran out of city to hide behind, but she started wondering what to tell the maid after--she’d learned early on in this line that wives want to hear their husbands are scoundrels, but unmarried girls like their man pure. Well, she couldn’t rightly say what he was.

She saw him drop the knife, but it was still his choice to be there in the first place. He wasn’t that much younger than her, not too young to figure what the blindfold and gag had been for. Dark and distance made it hard to follow, but Iacosi’s man took daft and picked the knife back up, she saw two black shapes meet and tumble down, and only the boy got back up, trying his hand at the big one. He was sent to the dirt for his troubles, but he’d tried. So, then, maybe not so soft, probably not so pure, either.

There was some talk, then they split up. The lot of them passed not two arm’s length from where she hid, close enough she could take the measure of them. They stank of blood the lot of them, none worse than the big one. The old man was the last to leave, and she readied herself to slip around closer when he’d passed. She heard his footsteps coming, caught a look at him from the shadows--somebody had a knife to her neck.

Chaku swore. How’d someone got behind her? And who, one of them? If it was, she was good as worm food no matter what, so she waited for her throat to open up and that be the end of it. But it didn’t, and it wasn’t. The old man’s footsteps went off into the black, and the knife was gone. She spun around, fists up, but the alley behind her was empty. She weighed that for a moment, and figured there’d never been a knife: she’d taken the old man’s measure, and he carried death with him.

She shook it off and closed in near enough to listen as the robed one carried the boy away: they were returning to the circus, and slowly. She’d have time enough to catch them after they’d left, so Chaku bided her time behind an outbuilding until the scene was clear, excepting one. The body of Iacosi’s man was left with a level grave, sure as he deserved it, but she was more interested in what the circus boy had done to put him there. She crouched down and saw the mess of blood spilling out a clean cut.

That didn’t sit right. It’s one thing for a boy with some bones and a clever hand to get lucky in a scrap, doubly so if he knows the tools like the circus boy did. But the stroke was perfect, the kind of stroke that takes a few necks to learn. It reminded her of how her older sister had described it back when they still lived in Oza: a clean cut keeps the spirit from talking, so when the White Ship comes for them, they can’t give an ill account of you. This one’s soul would never say a word. Well, then.

She closed his eyes with a pass of her hand, placed the knife in his and folded his arms over his chest. He almost looked like someone a mother’d mourn.

“Can’t say as I knew ye from a pig, and what I saw of ye didn’t bear much liking, but on some other day, we’d switch places, so . . . God keep ye when the White Ship comes. I’ve no booze to pour ye out, so this is what ye get.” She spat into the dirt and nodded, satisfied she’d done her peace.

It was certainly more than four silvers’ worth of mess, she decided, but a job was a job and Aanitsuru Chaku was not in the habit of taking what wasn’t hers. The streets were mostly clear as she ran after the circus boy, catching up with him quickly. If nothing else, the robed one took him back to the upper city by the shortest path and then straight to where the circus folk were settled. They had words, then the soldier waited until he’d seen the boy go back in the tent.

She let out a heavy breath, congratulating herself on surviving another night, even if it had its fair share of moments. Now, all that was left was to pass along what she’d seen. The maid had given her a name to ask for at the rear entrance of some big family’s house, but Chaku had another idea. She ducked into a narrow alley between two great houses and looked the walls over. There were places enough to hold on to, and why not? Some fresh air was owed her after such a night. She scaled the wall silently, lifting herself up onto the roof and looking out over the Scembre night.

Out beyond the city walls, she saw the bonfires of a few villages still roaring, the city street torches looking feeble suddenly. Perhaps, she thought, she’d see them this Carnivale, when she had a free night. She took her bearings, remembering where the lady’s house was, and set to running the rooftops. There was no way around it being colder up high, the wind full against her, but it was the sort of cold that woke the soul and got one’s mischief up.

Before long, Chaku crouched on the roof of the lady’s house--tu Potali, was it?--behind one of its many chimneys. They only thought to put two guards on the roof at night, which was enough to probably scare off bored boys, but not so much as spit in the sea to her. It was easy to slip past them to the open courtyard, with its balconied glass doors inviting her. Without anyone to look up and spot her, she took her time climbing along the wall, holding the gutter. The blinds weren’t drawn and, by the soft light of each room’s fireplace, she could guess at what it was. She let herself have a grin when she saw a young lady’s room, dropping down to the balcony.

A quick look told Chaku the door was latched--when would the Scembrese learn about proper locks?--so the thin iron file she kept on her easily fit the gap in the frames and lifted the latch. She opened the door quiet-like and stood there blocking what little moonlight the clouds let pass. She could see the delicate little lady sleeping under her blankets, probably the softest thing she’d ever seen--she could just wait there for the cold to rouse the princess, who’d be in for a scare when she saw Chaku standing there like death herself.

Now, now, she told herself. You have things to tell the lady, and that’s awful difficult if she screams and guards come rushing. So, then, maybe if she snuck up to the bedside and covered her mouth that would--or the young lady could sit up on her bed and look directly at her.

“Close the door, would you? It’s a bit chilly.”

Well, then. Chaku shut the door, but left it unlatched, stepping into the room. The smell of perfume was thick enough to cut the smoke; if that was part of being a proper lady, Chaku was all too happy to live in the street.

“I presume you have something to tell me about Traleau?” The young lady stood from her bed, stretched and sauntered over to the fireplace, pointing to a chair like they were having tea. “Please, sit with me.”

“So, you figure I’m the one yer maid hired?” Chaku asked, flopping into the softest chair she’d ever felt in her life. “What if I were here fixing to kill ye?”

“One of the people Genori hired, yes. And if you were ‘fixing to kill me,’ I’d be dead already. You were standing there for a while--oh, but don’t feel bad. I sleep lightly to begin with. Besides, who would want to kill the heiress to such a small family? I’m only worth something to others alive.”

“I’m quickly getting the notion that I’d figured you all wrong,” Chaku muttered, drawing her legs up onto the chair, letting herself sink deeper into it. She could understand then why the noble folk slept so much, she thought, cushions like that simply sucked the life out of you. Even so, this little lady, perhaps four or five years younger than her, looked to have some bones. Her look was lean, sharp. “Definitely figured you wrong. I’d thought you were soft.”

“Well, I appreciate both your candor and your willingness to reconsider. My name is Amiel, by the way.”

“Aanitsuru,” Chaku grunted.

“So you are Oza,” Amiel said. Was it her imagination, or did the lady look pleased? “I can speak some . . . ah! But, isn’t that a family name? What is y--”

“Aanitsuru’s fine, I don’t expect to be knowing ye.” Chaku turned to look into the fire, let the bad breath out, and when she looked back, ‘Amiel’ was gone and the strong-eyed lady was back.

“Very well. What do you have for me, Aanitsuru?”

“Right, then. The circus boy--”

“Traleau.”

“Sure; he went with the soldiers into the lower city. They took him to a nasty enough place, popular with the soldiering type anyway, lots of fighting pits and such--”

“Iacosi’s territory.”

“You’ve heard of him?”

“Not until earlier tonight.”

“So, yer boy, his friends got that fat fellow’s wind up enough that he sent some rough hands about to do for them and--”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Ye didn’t hear me?”

“I heard you, but . . . what?”

Chaku frowned. The lady’s tutors probably won’t be teaching low talk, she thought. Fair enough.

“Iacosi, he’s the fat one, ye see--”

“No, yes, I gathered.”

“Right, he got mad and sent around some men to, well,” Chaku pulled a finger across her own neck slowly. “Ye follow?”

“I do. Please continue.”

“Well, the soldiers and the circ--Traleau, he came out of it fine, but Iacosi’s lot got level graves, except for one. Young one, near my age, the big fellow tied him up and they took him out to some old smithy near the wall. They put a knife between him and yer boy and told ‘em to sort themselves out.”

Amiel nodded, and Chaku could tell she had a clear picture in her head, and she didn’t care for it one bit. She weighed what she’d seen for a moment, then sighed.

“Yer boy, he let him go and turned his back to him, so Iacosi’s boy took the knife and went for him. Yer boy defended himself.”

“Is he--”

“No harm done.”

“And the other . . . ?”

“Dead.”

“But you’re absolutely sure it was self-defense, and nothing more?”

Chaku studied closely on Amiel. She had the graces of a lady, all right. Nothing about her had lost its place, except that for the first time, she’d turned her eyes. It was only for a breath, but Chaku saw it, and knew what she’d said wasn’t a question at all. She thought back to that perfectly cut throat, the way the circus boy had gone for the big fellow after.

“That’s right.”

“And then?”

“Then the soldiers went off. The old one said some things I didn’t catch, then the young one, the one in the robe, walked him back to the circus, then I came here.”

“I . . . see,” Amiel said, and said no more for what seemed a long while.

“Well, then, if that’s everything from me, I’ll be on my way,” Chaku said, though truth was she wanted to stay in that chair just an hour or two more.

“Oh, please wait. I have something to ask, and if you hear me out, I’ll make it worth your while. I assume extra payment was the main reason you wanted to scare me?” Amiel said, her tone even, smile genuinely amused.

“That’s about it.”

“We call that extortion, typically, but let’s just say it was a convenient meeting. I have an extra gold piece for you if you’ll permit me to ask you a question, and potentially more, depending on how you answer it.”

“Yer feeling generous, m’lady? Fine, what have ye in mind?”

“First, what are your impressions of the mercenary group?”

“Impressions?”

“Well, you’ve tailed them all night. Surely you must have some opinions about them.”

“Aye, supposing I do.” Chaku searched Amiel’s face for any clues to what she wanted to hear, but the lady was hard to read. If the low fee she’d taken for the job made her feel less in control than she’d liked, not having any edge on a little girl had her near depressed. Still, nothing for it but to be straight.

“Well, I can’t speak to the whole lot, since yer maid said they numbered a hundred and then some, and I only saw the six of ‘em. But that leader of theirs, the old one, I wouldn’t trust him. Never.”

“He’s a mercenary. Trust is hardly an issue when you know up front you’re paying.”

“No, not at all. Ye can trust a sellsword just fine, long as yer smart enough to know what yer enemy’s willing to pay. He’s something different and no mistake. What’s more, the ones that was with him, they’re not with him for the money either.”

“I see. I had suspected as much. They all seemed, wrong, somehow,” Amiel said, and drifted off to thinking again. Chaku liked that thinking face less and less, and she was starting to think the soft chairs were for talk like this, to take folks off their guard and make them easier to play. She sat up straight and at the edge of the seat, determined to defy.

“Aye. So, what of it?”

“Well, I promised you an extra gold piece for the question. That is yours either way. But if you would be willing to follow Traleau until the mercenaries leave two days from now, I will pay you a further two gold pieces now, and two more when it is done.”

“I think I’ll pass. Too much risk, with folk like that interested in ‘im. I’ll be taking that gold piece and be on my way, thank you much,” Chaku said, standing and shaking off what was left of the chair’s comfort.

“Of course.” Amiel gave a small nod. “As I said, that is yours either way.”

Oh, that’s the shape of things, is it? Chaku thought. The lady’s tone was just disappointed enough to feel like an insult, to say that only a coward took one coin where five could be had. Of course, when she’d had any, Chaku had seen enough friends go from street to gutter over those sorts of dares.

“Aye, it is.”

“I see. Then perhaps there is a different task I might interest you in, for five gold pieces.”

“ . . . I’m listening, lady.”

“Hardly the proper address. Regardless, I need someone to look into the recent activities of the Ascipili. They’re a merchant family who conduct much of the shipping and accounting for my father’s ventures.”

“Ye think something smells foul?”

“You could say that. The documents that they’ve been passing along to my father of late are rather suspect, or at least, I think so. Too many reports of lost cargo on too many of the same trips. You see where I’m going with this, I trust?”

“Aye. Yer being robbed since ye have no eyes on the ships. Common enough.”

“Yes, well, my family is not so elevated that we can simply ignore this; we deserve the profits of our own vineyards. However, I obviously cannot raise the issue with my father, lest he know I’m more aware of this family’s dealings than I ought to be. He will not deal with it on his own, as he will likely not notice, and neither I nor any servants could tend to it without humiliating him.” Amiel shrugged: no way around noble worries.

“Right. So, how do ye want this done, then?”

“So, you’ll do it? Excellent. What I would like you to do is peek in on the Ascipili for me to ascertain how far this reaches. They keep their offices in Tagie. First, we’ll need to look at the signatory assigned to my father’s interests. It could be that the shipments are all reaching the right hands, but the person who signs off on the statements is altering them to misplace some of our money, in which case the recordkeeper has to be covering for him with false copies. You’ll break into their offices at night and check one of the statements the signatory has marked for delivery against the clerk’s draft.”

“And what should I be doing if that’s the case?” Chaku perked a brow. “Should I . . . ?”

“No, no, there are subtler methods.” The way Amiel smiled at her almost made Chaku forget she was talking to a girl not even thirteen years along. “If those documents do not match, you will take them to the head clerk’s office and leave them on his desk, and then you will leave.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. The head clerk will deal with them on his own when he realizes that not only are his employees stealing from a lord, but that someone has found out about it. Even if he’s complicit in the scheme, he’ll have no choice but to root them out to save face and to clean himself of the matter in case he mistakes the papers finding their way to his desk for a threat.”

“And if it be something other?”

“Then there are three other possibilities. The drafting clerks are all Ascipili family members to my knowledge, so if it’s the one working my father’s account, then it is quite possible that the family itself is cheating all its clients, but they would try to protect themselves if that’s the case. If the problem isn’t within the accountancy, then the crews and dockworkers in the shipping end of the business are the thieves, and we also have unknown black market buyers to worry about. If that isn’t true and they really are just suffering that much loss of cargo, the Ascipili are simply incompetent.”

“Unfortunately, proving any of these possibilities would require additional evidence not to be found in their offices, and even if one obtained the evidence, I’m not yet sure how to proceed with those issues. In any of those cases, return to me immediately.”

“For five coin, you said? Fair enough.” Break-ins on money-pushers were easy enough, and even counting the time to Tagie and back, five gold pieces was plenty for such a job. But the little lady’s smile told Chaku she wasn’t quite finished.

“But before you do this job for me, I need you to watch Traleau until the morning after tomorrow. You will still be paid five gold coins for each task.”

“Now wait here, I--”

“Is ten gold coins really such an unfair fee for what I’m asking?”

“No, but I--”

“If you do both these tasks for me, you might find yourself with a permanent position. As the heiress, my allowance is quite generous, and as I spend little enough on the usual luxuries of a lady, I have significant savings as well. Certainly enough to sustain your reliable employment. You would have no more need to live on the streets.”

“Yer assuming I don’t like it,” Chaku said, though she felt like a brat, and the little lady wasn’t fooled in the least. There was no reason to say it excepting that she couldn’t tell whether to respect or hate the girl for toying with her, and taking a swipe was near enough to splitting the matter down the middle.

“Please, Aanitsuru. You were able to track six dangerous men through one of the worst parts of the city and break into my room without being caught by anyone, and if you’re someone Genori would turn to, then it is even clearer how capable you are. Surely someone with your ability would enjoy more interesting work?”

If there was one thing the little lady could not have known, it was just how true that was. Taking money from folks that had more of it than sense was enough to get by most of the time, but even then, money had a way of going faster than she could work--too many others that did what she did and well enough for the price. Chaku had to admit that leaving lean times in the past had a sweet smell to it, and if she were truly in the good graces of a noble, then perhaps . . .

“Fine, then. Ye have yerself a deal,” she said, sticking her hand out. Amiel tilted her head and gave her a queer look; well, at least she’d surprised her with that much. “Ye shake it.”

“Oh, I--” The little lady shut her mouth and gave one light shake. “Well, then, I trust you can see yourself out. I’ll hear from you tomorrow night and the night after?”

“Aye. Just one last thing, m’lady.”

“What is it?”

“What’s the boy matter? You sweet on him?”

“No, I scarcely know him, and even if I did, he is not what exactly suitable marriage material.”

“Nobody said ye had to marry him,” Chaku muttered.

“I beg your pardon!” Amiel hissed, horror and some color filling her face; that was satisfying, almost enough to make the whole night work out to good. She needed a few deep breaths to set herself straight, Chaku smirking all the while.

“It just doesn’t seem right to me, that’s all,” the little lady said, looking into the fire. “All I do know about him is that there’s something wild in him. There isn’t any room for that in my world, but I want to believe it can be a good thing, a beautiful thing. I fear that if this Tshio Kion and his men take him, that it will be crushed. Do you understand that?”

“I suppose it don’t amount to much if I do or don’t. Not like it was my place to ask anyway.”

“. . . I suppose you’re right. Good night, Aanitsuru.”

Chaku watched her pick herself up, walk back to her bed and like magic, she was suddenly the fragile little lady again, no sign of the wits or the bones she’d had not a breath before. Business was concluded, as the merchants say, and Chaku let herself out through the doors, though it nagged at her that the little lady’d sounded disappointed.