Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

"He didn't even mention it. I don't think he knew about it. I think Jerome and I were scheduled to be picked up and brought in that night regardless." "You're sure?" "I'm as sure as I can be."

"Tell me something, Leocanto. If Stragos had revealed himself to you before you" d had a chance to perform your card tricks for me… if you" d known it was him you were betraying, would you still have done it?"

"Well…" Locke pretended to consider the question. "I can't say what I might think if I actually liked him, or trusted him. Maybe I'd just give Jerome a knife in the back and work for him if I did. But… We're rats to Stragos, aren't we? We're fucking insects. Stragos is one presumptuous son of a bitch. He thinks he knows Jerome and me. I just… don't like him, not a bit, even without the poison to consider."

"He must have spoken to you at length, to inspire such distaste," said Requin with a smile. "So be it. If you want to buy your way into my organization, there will be a price. That price is Stragos." "Oh, gods. What the hell does that mean?"

"When Stragos is either verifiably dead or in my custody, you may have what you ask. A place at the Sinspire assisting with my games. A salary. All the assistance I can offer you with his poison. And Jerome de Ferra crying under your knife. Is that agreeable?" "How am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't expect you to do it all yourself. But Maxilan has clearly ruled long enough. Assist me in enabling his retirement by any means you can, or any means I order. Then I suppose I'll have a new floor boss."

"Best thing I" ve heard in a long while. And the, ah, money in my account, locked away by your command?"

"Will remain locked away, lost by your own actions. I am not a man of charity, Leocanto. Remember that, if you would serve me."

"Of course. Of course. But now indulge me, please, in a question of my own. Why aren't you worried that I might be double-timing you for Stragos? That I might run back and tell him all this?"

"Why do you presume that Ym not playing you falsely on that very presumption?" Requin smiled broadly, in genuine amusement.

"All these possibilities make my head hurt," said Locke. "I prefer card-sharping to intrigue. If you're not on the up-and-up, logically I might as well go home and hang myself tonight."

"Yes. But I'll give you a better answer. What could you possibly tell Stragos? That I dislike him, bank for his enemies and wish him dead? So he'd have confirmation of my hostility? No point. He knows I'm hostile. He knows the underworld of Tal Verrar is an impediment to him if he wants to assert his power. My felantozzi prefer the rule of the guilds to the possibility of rule by uniforms and spears; there's less money in dictatorship by arms."

Felantozzi was a Throne Therin term for foot soldiers; Locke had heard it used to refer to criminals a few times before, but he'd never heard them using it among themselves.

"All that remains," said Requin, "is for your other judge to concur that you are still a risk worth taking." "Other judge?"

Requin gestured toward Selendri. "You" ve heard everything, my dear. Do we put Leocanto out of the window, or do we send him back down to where you fetched him from?"

Locke met her gaze, folded his arms and smiled in what he hoped was his most agreeable harmless-puppy fashion. She scowled inscrutably for a few moments, then sighed.

"There's so much to distrust here. But if there's a chance to place a turncoat relatively close to the Archon… I suppose it costs us little enough. We may as well take it."

"There, Master Kosta." Requin stepped over and placed a hand on Locke's shoulder. "How" s that for a ringing endorsement of your character?"

"I'll take what I can get." Locke tried not to let too much of his genuine relief show.

"Then for the time being, your task will be to keep the Archon happy. And, presumably, feeding you your antidote."

"I shall, gods willing." Locke scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'll have to let him know that we've made our personal acquaintance; he must have other eyes in your "Spire who'll figure it out sooner or later. Best have it explained sooner."

"Of course. Is he likely to bring you back to the Mon Magisteria soon?" "I don't know how soon, but yes. Very much more than likely"

"Good. That means he might blather on about his plans again. Now, let's get you back down to Master de Ferra and your evening's business. Cheating anyone tonight?" "We" d only just arrived. We were taking in the cage spectacle." "Oh, the wasps. Quite a windfall, those monsters." "Dangerous property." "Yes, a Jeremite captain had a seed hive and a queen he was trying to sell. My people tipped off customs, had him executed, burned the queen, and the rest vanished into my keeping after they were impounded. I knew I'd find some sort of use for them." "And the young man facing them?"

"Some eighth son of a titled nobody with sand for brains and debts to the "Spire. He said he'd cover his markers or die trying, and I took him at his word."

"Well, I" ve got a hundred solari on him, so I hope he lives to cover those markers." He turned back toward Selendri. "The climbing closet again?"

"Only to the sixth floor. You can walk back down from there." She smirked slightly. "By yourself."

When Locke managed to elbow his way back down to the second floor at last, the young man in the cage was limping, bleeding and wobbling on his feet. Half a dozen stiletto wasps were free in the enclosure, hovering and darting around him. Locke sighed as he pushed through the crowd.

"Master Kosta! Returned to us just in time for the issue to be settled, I believe."

Madam Durenna smiled over the top of her drink, some milky orange liquor in a slender glass vessel nearly a foot high. Jean was sipping from a smaller tumbler of something pale brown, and he passed an identical glass to Locke, who took it up with a grateful nod. Honeyed rum — hard enough to avoid Durenna's scorn, but not quite powerful enough to start beating anyone's better judgment down for the evening.

"Is it about that time? My apologies for my absence. Silly little business." "Silly? With one of the Priori involved?"

"I made the mistake of showing him a card trick last week," said Locke. "Now he's making arrangements for me to perform the same trick for, ah, a friend of his."

"It must be an impressive trick, then. More impressive than what you usually do at a card table?"

"I doubt it, madam." Locke took a long sip from his drink. "For one thing, I don't have to worry about such excellent opposition when I'm performing a card trick." f

"Has anyone ever tried to cut out that disgustingly silver tongue of yours, Master Kosta?" "It's become a traditional pastime in several cities I could mention."

In the cage, the mad buzzing of the wasps grew louder as more of them exploded from their cells… two, three, four… Locke shuddered and watched helplessly as the blurry dark shapes hurtled around the meshed cage. The young man tried to stand his ground, then panicked and began to flail wildly. One wasp met his glove and was slapped to the floor, but another alighted on his lower back and drove its body down. The boy howled, slapped at it and arched his back. The crowd grew deadly silent in mingled horror and anticipation.

It was fast, but Locke would never have called it merciful. The wasps swarmed the young man, darting and stinging, digging their clawed legs into his blood-soaked shirt. One on his chest, one on his arm, its abdomen pulsing madly up and down… one fluttered about his hair, and another drove its sting home into the nape of his neck. The boy's wild screams became wet choking noises. Foam trickled from his mouth, blood ran in rivulets down his face and chest, and at last he fell over, twitching wildly. The wasps buzzed and stalked atop his body, looking horribly like blood-coloured ants as they went about their business, still stinging and biting.