Erin Evans - The God Catcher

Even though it was the middle of the day, there was something so dank, so oppressive about the street that Tennora couldn't help but think it was much later, late enough that she should be home and in bed.

She shook those thoughts away. She needed to do this.

For who? A little voice demanded. For a woman she hardly knew?

In a sense, yes, but the woman wasn't Nestrix. Because, as Tennora started to realize, standing in front of the dingy little shop that insisted it was number thirteen, Dust Alley, it had quite a lot more to do with her mother.

If Mardin knew this shop, her mother knew this shop. If Mardin knew the owner, the owner had probably known Liferna. The real Liferna.

As soon as she'd turned onto Snail Street and into the Dock Ward, she'd caught herself imagining going into the shop, seeing the old man behind the counter, and before she could even say what she wanted, hearing him gasp and declare, "You look exactly like your mother." It was silly, and it made her aunt and uncle's protests ring even louder in her mind.

But she wanted it more than she could have imagined when she'd realized this Fladnor might know Liferna after all.

"Looking to get yourself robbed?" a voice drawled.

Tennora spun around and saw she was being watched by two women dressed in bright, flounced skirts pocked with bows and bits of lace-and in low-cut blouses. They wore paint on their faces, their lush lips like opening roses, their eyes like coals. A pair of highcoin lasses loitering before a tenement, they seemed like they were her own age, but their eyes looked infinitely older.

Tennora put her hand on her coin purse to make certain it was still there, and the prostitutes laughed.

"Poor girl," the one in the red skirt said. "Poor dumb girl."

"Sovann's gonna have a full time with you," the other said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tennora said acidly.

The woman chuckled. "You'll have to find out for yourself. Just don't let your guard down. He's a tricky one."

"I don't intend to," Tennora said. She drew herself up very straight, turned on her heel, and headed into the shop she'd been eyeing.

Inside, shelves lined every wall of the shop, stretching all the way to the ceiling. The beams were at least three times Tennora's height above her. The shelves dripped with all manner of wares: glossy weapons, books, glass bottles, yellow candles, gloves, and paper-wrapped sweets. Her gaze traveled down to the counter.

And to the four young men and a woman who were watching her traverse the shop. Their eyes were not friendly, least of all the young man standing behind the counter, sipping from a mug. He-like all of them-wore simple, form-fitting clothes and had an air about him that made Tennora think he would be perfectly at home crouching on a rooftop somewhere. He regarded her with a lazy interest, as if he hadn't decided whether she was worth his attention.

Calm, she told herself. Stay calm. Aowena could cow a clerk; well, then so could Tennora. If Liferna could buy lockpicks, then so would she.

"Well met. I'm looking for Fladnor," she said. "Mardin Eftnacost sent me."

The young man behind the counter looked her up and down, his focus on her sharpening even if his manner still seemed easy. "Fladnor's retired," he said after a moment. "And I don't know your Mardin."

She looked him over in return, the way her aunt would a shop-girl. "Well, then you will have to do."

The young man raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" His cronies sniggered. One rat-faced man leered at her. Tennora felt her cheeks flushing.

"I expect you're Sovann, then," she said. "I was warned about you. Do you suppose we could do this civilly?"

Sovann smiled. "Should have listened, duchess. Go home. I've got nothing to sell you."

"I need lockpicks." She unrolled the package that contained her mother's set. "These are rusting. I've already broken several."

Sovann frowned at the set. "Lockpicks," he said thoughtfully. "No, I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing. How about you, Gargo?"

"Never in my life," the rat-faced man said with a look of mock astonishment.

"Hmm. Lucira? You?"

A slim brunette lounging against the wall shook her head. "Not I."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," Sovann said, all innocence. "Can't sell you something I never heard of."

"Clever. I've never heard an ass talk, let alone spin lies," Tennora said-as soon as it was out of her mouth she felt her cheeks flame red. He was not a man she should be insulting. Indeed, Sovann's eyes had narrowed, though his smile didn't budge. She felt an apology float to her lips, but she kept her mouth shut and her eyes hard.

"They sound illegal," he said. "Wouldn't want to call the Watch on a pretty thing like you. You'd better head home."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Tennora crossed her arms over her chest. "All right. Go ahead. I'll tell them it's part of my research, looking into magically improving locks. What will you say about your wares?"

Sovann smiled. "We have an understanding, the local Watch captain and I."

Tennora leaned on the counter's table, growing angrier than she could ever remember being. She narrowed her eyes right back at him. "And how much will that understanding cost you if I start shouting once they get here? They'll take one look at me and-"

Tennora stiffened. Her belt had just become almost imperceptibly lighter. She turned to find one of the young men walking quickly toward the door, her coin purse in hand.

All that anger erupted inside her. She was through being laughed at.

She grabbed the mug sitting on the counter and hurled it at the thief.

It hit him squarely on the base of his skull and shattered, throwing shards of clay everywhere and sending a splash of tea down his neck. He stumbled, tripped on the staircase, and came down hard on his stomach-just in time for Tennora to plant a boot on his wrist and wrench her coin purse away from him.

"I have the coin," she said, feeling as ferocious as if dragonfear were burning through her. "Now sell me the stlarning lockpicks!"

Silence reigned for an interminable moment.

Sovann's stiff smile eased into a grin of genuine amusement. Without taking his bright brown eyes off hers, he reached beneath the counter and pulled out a bundle of dark cloth. He unrolled it, revealing a row of sharp wires, pins, and hooks, shining in the sunlight as lovely and as precious as her aunt's good silver in the hands of a master.

"Now," Sovann said, "just where were you thinking of breaking into, duchess?"

"Who said I'm breaking into anywhere?" Tennora said archly. "This is for my research, remember?"

"Indeed. What sort of locks are you planning on… testing?"

Tennora put on her most pleasant face. "Why don't you show me what you have, and I'll tell you what I want?"

Sovann's smile spread. "I'll give it to you, duchess. I can't tell whether you're canny as an archdevil or just a flibbertigibbet." He looked up at the remaining toughs loitering on the stairs. "Gents! Luce! Out! The lady'd like to peruse my wares. Take Knull out for a quaff and keep him awake." Two of the men helped the third up from the floor, and with the woman-Lucira-in the lead, they left the shop.

Tennora raised an eyebrow. Sovann winked at her. He waited for the last of the loiterers to exit before speaking.

"What sort of locks do you expect to be… researching?"

"A variety," she answered swiftly.

"Well then, suppose you give me an idea of your… skills."

Tennora lifted her chin in her haughtiest impression of her grandmother. "I have a certain natural knack," she said, "but those old picks aren't making anything easy on me."

Sovann seemed to weigh this.

"Where'd the old set come from?" Sovann asked, picking up one of the curved wires. He looked along its shaft. "These are antiques." "They were my mother's."