Douglas Hulick - Sworn in Steel

Props could be replaced, and costumes could be remade from secondhand drapes-but plays, well, those were another matter entirely. A troupe’s collection of plays was built over the course of years: unique works written, purchased, cribbed and even stolen, all for the sole use of the company. A signature piece could keep a troupe working for years, while a successful new play could open avenues of patronage and success that might have seemed unattainable just a season ago. If the actors were the scheming, turbulent, brilliant heart of the troupe, then the plays were its soul. And a company cannot survive without a soul.

The problem was, recent personal issues with Petyr aside, I didn’t have the time or resources to crack the Petty Boss’s ken and make off with a trunk full of paper just now. Not with news of Crook Eye galloping its way up from Barrab even as I sat here.

But it was equally clear that Tobin wasn’t going to take no for an answer-not when he had something he knew I needed.

I slipped an ahrami seed into my mouth. I took my time, letting it settle beneath my tongue, releasing its juices and seeping into my system. It would do them good to sweat a bit, to think about what their options were if I said no. I embraced the flood of awareness and ease that came over me, listened as their feet shuffled in the straw.

Finally, I bit down. Then I stood up. The troupe shifted unconsciously, widening the circle around me. Tobin was the only one who didn’t give ground.

“Breaking into a roosting ken is hardly a pittance,” I said slowly. “Dirty Waters or no, Petyr’s a local power. He won’t leave the door standing open for someone like me; especially not me, considering what I did to his people.”

“But surely-” began Tobin.

I held up my hand. “I’m not finished.” I looked around the room, making sure I had their attention. “If you give me some time-a few days, maybe a week-I can get your chest for you.” Along with Petyr’s ass, depending on who I put on the job. “But it’s not something I can do right now, not on short notice.”

Toban scowled. “We weren’t planning an extended engagement in the Waters.”

“And I wasn’t planning to wash the blood of Angels know how many coves off me, let alone buy my way into Ildrecca from a bunch of Boardsmen, but there it is. I’m playing it the best I can. I suggest you do the same.”

“And how do we know you’ll come back and do what you say?” This from the same doubting voice in the back of the troupe.

I didn’t take my eyes off their leader. “You could have turned me over to Soggy Petyr in exchange for your property. Maybe even have gotten more than your plays back. You didn’t.” Tobin’s eyes narrowed. He dipped his chin a fraction, telling me he’d thought of that idea and discarded it. “That would have been the easy way, but not the honorable one,” I said. “I don’t forget things like that. My word to you is good.”

The old woman snorted. “A thief’s word,” she muttered, not even bothering to look up from her sewing.

It suddenly felt as if the entire room was holding its breath. I sensed more than saw every pair of eyes, save Tobin’s, shift first to the old woman and then back to me.

I took a slow breath myself and forced a smile.

“Almost as bad as an actor’s honor, isn’t it?” I said.

The tiniest corner of her mouth turned up.

The room relaxed.

“It’s settled, then!” pronounced Tobin. “In exchange for aid and succor, our good Getter here will deliver us our property within the seven-night.” He extended his hand and helped me to my feet. The sudden movement made me feel light-headed, but I didn’t resist. As I stood, his other hand came around and across my back-above my wound, thankfully-drawing me closer.

“But know this, thief,” he muttered in my ear, his smiling lips barely moving. “I’m trusting you with the well-being of my troupe. If you fail, it’s no rain off my hat-I’ll get the scripts another way, if I must. But if you put any of my people in danger, or tell Petyr who sent you, I’ll make sure you pay. Cousins we may be, but I’ve closer relation than you, and they carry long knives of their own.”

I smiled as I returned the embrace. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. “Not any other way at all.”

I parted ways with Tobin and his people three blocks inside the city’s walls, at the Square of the Sixteen Angels. True to his word, the troupe’s leader had gotten me through not only the city gates, but Dirty Waters and the Lower Harbor as well, all without incident. I still wasn’t convinced we’d needed to lighten my hair with ash and turn my goatee into a full beard using lambswool and glue, let alone stick me on a short pair of stilts known as “giant shoes”-complete with long pants and false feet-but I hadn’t been in a position to argue. And besides, as Tobin had rightly pointed out, Petyr’s men would be looking for a short, dark-haired cove with sly eyes and a partial beard, not a stiff-legged old man who clearly needed help walking. Mind you, the parade of actors half a block ahead, singing and performing as they went, hadn’t hurt when it came to drawing eyes away from me either.

Not that it had been easy. If you had asked me halfway up whether it it was worth it, I’d have told you that I’d rather fight my way through all of Dirty Waters and half of the Lower Harbor than take another step in those damn stilts. But now that I was standing on the ground, my own shoes on my feet and the stage makeup washed away in the fountain before me? All things being equal? I still would have picked the fight.

“You’ll not forget our deal?” said the troupe leader as I flicked wet hair away from my face.

I glanced past him, toward a small group of Rags lounging in the shade of a building, their red sashes marking them as city guardsmen. They weren’t close enough to overhear, but they were handy enough to cause trouble if Tobin decided to make a scene. “You’ll get your plays,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

The corners of Tobin’s mouth pulled back. Clearly, he was having second thoughts now that he’d gotten me into Ildrecca. A hawk on the wrist as opposed to a pair in the sky and all that. “Yes, of course,” he said, “but I still-”

I stopped wringing out my hair and stepped closer to him. I even summoned a smile to my face. It wasn’t easy, given that he’d just questioned my word. Twice. “Relax, Boardsman. I keep my promises.”

Tobin’s gaze went from my mouth to my eyes. He didn’t seem reassured by what he saw. “Yes, well, let us hope so.”

I gave him a final nod, handed him the patchwork coat they’d thrown over me to hide both of the swords I was carrying, and left.

I craned my neck as I walked, enjoying the sensation of once again taking in Ildrecca’s walls from the inside. This close they loomed, extending from shadow into sunlight, the dark brick and beige stone turning to red and cream as it rose. Far up, I caught a glint-from a spear tip or helmet or bit of armor I couldn’t tell-as someone made their rounds on the wall. I wondered if I’d be visible from up there, or merely a smudge against the street. Likely somewhere in between, if the hay-stuffed, fayed skins of the criminals hanging below the parapets were any indication. There were four up there today. Two looked fresh, if the number of crows circling about were any indication.

I lowered my gaze and turned away. The bodies were supposed to be a lesson in what happened if you broke imperial law, but I’d always seen them as a reminder of the cost of being careless. In this city, careless got you killed or caught, and I didn’t much care for the thought of either.