Beka Cooper 1 - Terrier Read online

  "Go away!" Tansy cried, flinging herself across the big bed. "I don't want to live!"

  There was a water pitcher nearby. I picked it up and said, "Excuse me, Mistress Annis." I judged my throw carefully and tossed the water all over Tansy.

  She shrieked and came off that bed like a scalded cat. She hurled her sopping head cloth at me. I dodged it. Then she came at me, ready to claw my eyes out. I grabbed her wrists, just liked they'd taught us.

  "Shame on you, wailing like a cracknob, not thinking about your poor mama-in-law or that babe you've got coming," I told her. "Shame! You hold Rolond's ghost here. Let him go on to the Black God's realm peaceful-like." I knew it was a lie. It was being murdered that kept that baby's ghost about, but Tansy will fret herself to death if you don't speak stern to her.

  She crumpled up and began to cry. I sat her on the bed and took the drying cloth Annis gave me. "Are you going to eat something now, like a sensible girl?" Annis asked her. "Or do I refill the water jug?"

  Tansy nodded. "Soup, please." Her voice was hoarse. "Mayhap some rolls. And...and milk." She smoothed her hands over her belly. When Annis went to get those things, Tansy looked at me. She gave me a quivery smile, though she was still crying. "You never had patience with me. Even when you was five and me eight, you was still lecturing like a granny."

  "Especially when you was making an ass of yourself," I reminded her. "If you're going to mourn, do it proper, in a temple. Give Rolond toys for an offering, or his favorite sweets. But this does you nor him no good at all."

  Tears rolled down her face. "Who would kill Rolond, Beka? A little boy who laughed whenever he saw a new face?"

  Like as not, that's how whoever doused Rolond caught him, I thought. "The Dogs will find out, Tansy. They'll catch whoever done it and make them pay." Except that I knew better. Jewel and Yoav had the hunt on Evening Watch. They didn't see the sweet little lad I had known. Rolond had never grinned for them to show off his new teeth, or played pat-a-cake. When they thought of Rolond, they thought only that someone had made Crookshank suffer by killing him. I am near positive the Dogs that have this hunt on the Day and Night Watches feel the same.

  It's the way things are always done. That doesn't make it right. Rolond was innocent of Crookshank's wickedness. He deserves a Dog seeking justice for his murder, even if the Dog is only a Puppy. At least I know him as himself.

  Tansy wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Goddess bless us, you're dressed up like a Dog. A Puppy. You'll get yourself killed, Beka. Knifed in an alley somewhere, strangled, dumped in the river – "

  I glared at her. "And you weeping in a chamber is better than me doing honest work?"

  Tansy held her head up. "Leastways I'm not poor and scraping burnt porridge from a pot to feed..." Her mouth trembled. "I wanted out of Mutt Piddle Lane, Beka. Herun wanted to take me out of there. I've a good man and a fine house."

  I couldn't argue. It's thanks to my lord Gershom that I am out. That Mama had a decent bed to die in, and that my sisters and brothers are learning proper trades.

  Since talking was discomforting, I did what the training masters said and looked Tansy's room over. The Lofts family lived well. The clothes presses were fine cedar, ornamented with mother-of-pearl and polished brass. A table supported pots for perfumes and lotions. Tansy had shell combs and brushes, ribbons in a carved wooden bowl, and a figure of the Goddess as Mother to bless her room. Shelves on the walls held pretty things with no real use to them. I wandered over to look at a row of stone figures. Among them was a piece of uncarved rock. In the candlelight it sparked bits of colored fire from a light pink bed, rough to my fingers like sandstone. I turned it every which way, fascinated. The fires came from smooth pieces in the stone, strips, dots, and even one tiny shelf that shimmered pale red, blue, and green in a creamy setting. The stone was really no bigger than the first joint of my thumb, including the nail, but it invited me to stare at each piece of it.

  "What's this?" I asked, turning to show it to her.

  "Goddess, take it! I don't ever want to see the curst thing again!" Tansy cried. "Herun brought it to me. Gave it to me like a jewel, said it's going to see us all move to Unicorn District. The next day they stole my Rolond. It's ill luck, is what it is!"

  "I don't see magic signs." I held the stone to my nose and sniffed. "I don't smell oils or suchlike."

  "I don't care." Tansy was weeping again. "You know what they say. If sommat new comes in your life and bad luck follows, then it followed the new thing. If bad luck follows you, Beka, my advice? Throw the rock in the Olorun with a curse to whoever sent it."

  I put the stone in my pocket. "Tansy, can you think of anyone fool enough to try this way to attack Crookshank? Or why?"

  Her eyes flashed. "Go away, Beka. You talk like a Dog. Just take that bad luck rock with you."

  I hesitated, but I knew I'd made a mistake. I went to put my arms around her. When she drew away, I gave her a glare of my own. "It's not the Dog as wants to hug you, pox rot it." She hesitated, then let me hug her. "Gods bless. The Black God will keep Rolond's spirit safe until you come to him again," I whispered. I hope so, anyway. He was murdered. The Black God may not have him yet.

  The door opened. Annis came in with a maid, who held a tray of food. "The Dogs are asking for you, Beka," Annis told me. "I told them I'd hoped you'd do Tansy good, and I was right. Get along with you." She hugged me, too, and kissed my cheek. "Do you burn the incense for Ilony's ghost?" I nodded. Annis pressed a copper into my hand. "Buy that lily-of-the-valley scent she loved, and tell her I miss her."

  "I'll do that, Mistress Annis. Goddess bless you and yours." I ran off, remembering the way downstairs. I didn't want Goodwin and Tunstall waiting for me a moment longer than needful, particularly not if they were vexed that I'd left my post.

  Goodwin scowled when I came up. Tunstall was munching a pastry. He swung the empty pie basket on his finger. "Trot this back to Mistress Noll, Puppy, then meet us right here," he said as we walked outside. He flipped the basket into the air.

  I caught it and did as I was bid, shouldering my way through the small crowd of customers. I looked around for Pounce, but he was nowhere in view.

  "You were longer than I expected," Mistress Noll said. She passed me the coppers she would have kept if Tunstall hadn't returned the basket. "Don't tell me they actually talked to the old bootlicker."

  I shrugged and smiled, then returned to my Dogs. That's one of the big rules: Dog business stays with the Dogs. Of course she wanted to know if Crookshank had said anything. I wanted to know if he'd said aught of interest. Not that I dared ask.

  My Dogs waited still before Crookshank's house. Though the Nightmarket was filling up and those that passed greeted them, I noticed that folk took care to give the two Dogs some room. Goodwin stood with her feet apart, balanced, hands hooked in her belt, her dark eyes not missing a face. Tunstall juggled his dagger, flipping it from hand to hand, always catching it by the hilt, though it spun end over end in the air.

  "Puppy," Goodwin said, pointing to the spot right in front of her. "Mistress Lofts informed us she was a friend to your mother, and you are a friend to the young Mistress Lofts, the mother of the dead child. How is it you neglected to mention it to Mattes or me? Look at me when I'm talking to you, Puppy Cooper."

  "You didn't ask, Guardswoman Goodwin," I said real fast.

  "She's got a point, Clary." Tunstall gave his dagger a last flip and tucked it into its sheath with the same move he'd taken to catch it. "When you have connections someplace where we're poking our noses, Cooper, speak up. We're good, but we're no mind readers."

  "Did Tansy say anything?" Goodwin asked. "No, don't tell us here. Save it till we're secure. You'd better not have depths, Puppy Cooper. People with depths are usually more trouble than they're worth."

  "She says so because she's deep," Tunstall explained to me as Goodwin walked on.

  "I heard that," she called over one shoulder.

  I fell in behind them, turni
ng the rough stone over in my hand. I wanted to keep it to myself, seek on my own to see if it was important or not. Herun Lofts thought it was valuable, and he'd been raised at Crookshank Lofts's elbow.

  Still, the training masters were strict about that kind of thinking. No going behind a partner's back. Definitely no going behind your training partners' backs. But how could a sparkly little piece of stone change Crookshank's fortunes and so Herun's? I knew rubies, emeralds, and sapphires didn't look too promising when they were dug from the ground, but at least they were single, solid rocks.

  The clocks were chiming the eighth hour when we heard an uproar. We followed shouts into the Nightmarket. A crowd was by the square's fountain. From the way folk yelled and traded coin, there was a fight at the heart of the crowd.

  Tunstall rose on his toes to get a look. "The Parks brothers. Some poor scut must have looked at them wrong. They're taking it out of his hide."

  Goodwin poked one cheering man with her baton. "What are the odds?"

  "Three to two against the new fish," he told her without looking away from the fight. "He's supposed to be wrestlin' champion in his sheep scummer village. He says his brothers are bull throwers – Mithros, if those two are the brothers...I'm offerin' five to three against the Parks lads!"

  I heard wood splinter. Someone screeched for the Guard. Goodwin sighed. "I was about to make some money. Tunstall, Puppy, come on. Puppy, just stand by with your baton out and watch. If someone tries to brain me or Tunstall, then you can move. Otherwise keep out of our way."

  I got out my baton and followed as they pushed through the crowd. They used their batons when their voices didn't make folk move fast enough. We shoved into the fighting ring. The breaking wood must have been the nearest ale seller's stall. The poles that supported its canvas sides had been broken. Its roof hung down. Leather jacks and wooden cups were scattered over the cobbles in puddles, at least until the quick fingers who haunted the Nightmarket ducked in to steal them.

  What held the crowd's attention was the five brawling coves at the center of the mess. I knew the two Parks brothers. The other three were country lads who were country big and country built. One of them proved it when he picked up the older Parks brother and lifted him over his head. He aimed for the five-leveled fountain, dedicated to the memory of King Jonathan the First.

  Goodwin stepped in. Gently, for a Dog, she thumped the country fellow across the belly with her baton. The air went out of him. He dropped his man.

  Another country cove, with eyes as blue as the sky and a face as open as a field, stepped in to save the first one from the small woman. He didn't know Tunstall had come up between him and the remaining cove. My male partner didn't even take out his baton. Tunstall just grabbed the second cove's head and the third country man's and banged them together like eggs. Then he let them sit down.

  The Parks who'd been fighting with that third country man was too stupid to be glad his battle was over. He roared and charged Tunstall, head down. Tunstall turned to the side and swung up his bent knee. He caught the charging Parks brother on the chin. The cove decided to lay down.

  I looked at the Parks brother who'd been dropped. Plainly he'd struck his head hard. He lay unmoving. Goodwin bent down to check his heartbeat. Then she peeled back his eyelid. "Well, if he's got a brain, it's still working. He – "

  "Hey!" someone yelled behind me. "Boys, cityfolk done attacked the Weatherskill lads! To me! To me!" I turned. Three more country men were running straight at me. The one in the lead, who did the squalling, had a chopping knife out. It was fully two feet of blade on a hilt. Evidently no other Dogs had seen it and made him stow it before he walked the streets.

  I did as Ahuda had taught. This cove watched Tunstall and Goodwin. He never saw me smack his wrist with my baton. When he dropped the weapon, he bent to grab it. I hit him on the spine, praying I hadn't done it too hard. I didn't want to cripple him, just stop him. One of his friends grabbed my arm. I got hold of his little finger with my free hand and bent it back hard. I'd had it done to me. I know that's too much pain to bear for long. Sure enough, he let go with a yell.

  Then Goodwin and Tunstall were there, taking care of the two louts still standing. When they were all down, Tunstall got his whistle. He blew three short blasts and two long, the signal for the cage Dogs on duty outside the Nightmarket.

  "Take all these scuts," Goodwin said when they came. "Let them argue about what happened while they enjoy the cages." She looked at Tunstall and me. "I don't know about you, but I worked up an appetite."

  Someone yelled, "I had bets on that fight!"

  "Nobody won, cracknob!" someone else called. "Ye don't win an' ye don't lose. Get yer coin back or maul them as stole it!"

  "You with the bets!" Tunstall's bellow could shake the palace. "Pay back every copper you hold. If I hear that anyone cheated a bettor, that cheater sees me on his doorstep – or hers – on the morrow!"

  "He means it, too," someone whispered. "Give the money back, y' looby. Tha's Tunstall talkin'."

  As we passed through the crowd, I heard folk murmur. "Nice work, Puppy." "Neat job." "Cool head, this one." "Ilony Cooper's oldest girl. You know the one." "Mother woulda been proud."

  Goodwin moved back to walk next to me. "You think you're their gold girl now, Cooper?" she asked, speaking for my ears alone. "Wait till you have to take in someone they love, someone popular. One of the ones with the easy smile and the charming way about them. You'll learn fast enough whose side they're on. Now, I thought I told you to stand fast and do nothing." I opened my mouth. She raised a finger. "You did right. That harvesting knife would have been a real problem, and you were closest. Just don't make a habit of it, understand me?"

  "Yes, Guardswoman Goodwin." I met her eyes for a moment, because I had to, before I looked away, cursing my shyness.

  She and Tunstall led me down Pottage Lane, to a small eating house called the Mantel and Pullet. Everyone there knows my Dogs. They even have their own table.

  Tunstall gave me a copper noble and jerked his head toward the bar. "Ale for us two, and whatever you're drinking," he said. "We'll order you the baked rat special."

  I had his measure enough to dare a small smile before I hurried to the barkeep. He'd already drawn ale for Goodwin and Tunstall in leather jacks with their names burned into the sides. "What of you, pretty Puppy?" he asked, leering at me. "A nice strong ale to loosen your belt? Wine for your first day?"

  I didn't have to look at him. "Barley water, sir, if you please."

  "You're joking." His voice was flat as he said it.

  "No, Master Barkeep. Barley water, please."

  "You've something against my good brown ale? Strong enough to stick a spoon in! 'Tis good enough for any Dog or soldier as walks through that door, good enough that the King himself, gods save him, has drunk it, whilst you turn up that dainty nose – "

  A man leaned past me and knocked on the plank bar. "Listen, keg tapper. Rather than waste time yapping at a pretty girl who's not interested, why not occupy yourself pouring out for me and my ladies, and let her be about her business?"

  I glanced at him and stepped to the side. He was lean and deadly-looking, with blade-scarred hands and sharp bones. He was also white-skinned and dark-eyed, with hair so fair it was nearly white. He winked at me as he leaned in for the barman's attention. I figured him to be in his early twenties. I was first in my class at guessing men's ages, so I felt sure of that.

  A barmaid passed me a mug of water. "If you wants a jack, bring yer own," she told me, eyeing the newcomer with wicked intentions. "With your name on't, so's you won't be tasting anyone else's mouth leavings." She skipped away from the barman's slap. I went back to my Dogs with our drinks.

  "Took you long enough," Goodwin said. She grabbed her jack and downed half the ale. I placed Tunstall's before him. Like everyone else, he watched the newcomer. The cove took his drinks over to a pair of women who had grabbed an empty table. One was plainly Scanran, a tall blond mot
two or three years older than me, wearing men's clothes and a sword. The smaller one was brunette, of mixed blood, my height. She wore a sleek blue dress. I could not tell her eye color in the murky light.

  "What do you think, Cooper?" Tunstall asked. "Guard from some other city? Off-duty army?"

  "The blond mot could be a mercenary of some kind." It was easier to speak if I looked at her, not him. "The cove's never been near military discipline." I remembered a Y-shaped scar in his eyebrow and the scars on his hands and muttered, "Or if he was, it didn't go well."

  Goodwin emptied her jack and shoved it at Tunstall. "I'll have a second. Tell that bar scut if he gives our Puppy a hard time again, I'll make him eat a keg after I empty it."

  As Tunstall left us, Goodwin said, "Read me out the man. Don't look at the man. Look at me."

  I opened my mouth and croaked. My throat had gone dry. I cleared it. No sound at all came out.

  Goodwin snorted. "Drink some water, and don't look at me, then, if that helps. Mother save us, you'd think I was a monster. The man, Puppy, the man. He might be escaping with the crown and scepter this very moment. Tell the kennel Dogs who they're sniffing for."

  I drank and read out the man's looks as I was taught in training. "Early twenties, five feet, ten inches, slim, muscled. Sideways forked scar, left eyebrow. Hair very fair, eyes black, skin pale. He's never worked hard labor, not with that skin. Long nose, full lower lip, thin upper. High cheekbones, thin cheeks. Very striking. Blade scars on the hands. Carries a purse and his belt knife in sight. Knife at the back collar, one inside both forearms, knives over each kidney, boot knives. I'm not sure if there's a buckle knife. If there is, it's a design I don't know. Earring, left ear, silver skull."

  Goodwin leaned back, whistling softly. "Very well, then. You've earned your supper. I won't throw you in the river, either." She looked at the ivory man, rubbing a scar on her cheek as she did. "That's a very dangerous new cove who's come to town, and what for? Trouble, no doubt." She seemed to be talking to herself.