Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

"I hope we've shown some aptitude, at least," groaned Locke, kneading a knot in the small of his back.

"Baby steps, Kosta. As far as sailors go, you haven't even learned to suck milk from a tit yet. But now you know starboard from larboard, and I'm twenty volani richer."

"Indeed," sighed Locke as he fetched his coat, vest, neck-cloths and shoes from the ground. He tossed a small leather purse to the sailing master, who dangled it in front of the kitten and cooed as though to a small child.

Locke happened to glance over at the gate while he was throwing his coat on over his damp tunic, and he saw Merrain's gig slip into the artificial bay. She was seated at the bow again, looking as though they had parted ten minutes rather than ten hours before.

"Your ride back to civilization, gents." Caldris raised Locke's coin-purse in a salute. "See you bright and early tomorrow. Only gets worse from here, so mind yourselves. Enjoy those nice beds while they're still available."

Merrain was completely unwilling to answer questions as the team of ten soldiers rowed them back to the docks beneath the Savrola, which suited Locke's mood. He and Jean commiserated over their aches and pains while lounging, as best the space allowed, in the rear gallery. "I could sleep for about three days, I think," said Locke.

"Let's order a big dinner when we get back, and some baths to take the knots out. After that, I'll race you to unconsciousness."

"Can't," Locke sighed. "Can't. I have to go and see Requin tonight. By now, he probably knows Stragos pulled us in again a few nights ago. I need to talk to him before he gets annoyed. And I need to give him the chairs. And I need to somehow tell him about all of this, and convince him not to strangle us with our own intestines if we leave for a few months."

"Gods," said Jean. "I" ve been trying not to think about that. You just barely convinced him that we've been assigned to the Sinspire to go after his vault; what can you say that will make this whole out-to-sea thing plausible?"

"I have no idea." Locke massaged the aching vicinity of his old shoulder wound. "Hopefully the chairs will put him in a forgiving mood. If not, you'll get the bill for cleaning my brains off his plaza stones."

When the rowers finally pulled the boat up alongside the Savrola docks, where a carriage was waiting with several guards, Merrain left the bow and made her way back to where Locke and Jean were sitting.

"Seventh hour of the morning tomorrow," she said, Til have a carriage at the Villa Candessa. We'll vary your movement for a few mornings for safety's sake. Stay at your inn this evening."

"Out of the question," said Locke. "I have business on the Golden Steps tonight." "Cancel it." "Go to hell. How do you propose to stop me?"

"You might be surprised." Merrain rubbed her temples as though she felt a headache coming on, then sighed. "You're sure you can't cancel it?"

"If I cancel my business tonight, you-know-who at the Sinspire is likely to cancel us," said Locke.

"If you're worried about Requin," she said, "I could simply arrange for quarters to be found in the Sword Marina. He" d never be able to reach you there; you" d be safe until your training was finished."

"Jerome and I have sunk two years in this bloody city into our plans for Requin," said Locke. "We intend to finish them. Tonight is critical."

"On your head be it, then. I can send a carriage with some of my men. Can it wait two hours?"

"If that's what it takes, fine." Locke smiled. "In fact, send two. One for me, one for cargo." "Don't push your—"

"Excuse me," said Locke, "but is the money coming out of your pocket? You want to protect me, surround me with your agents, fine — I accept. Just send two carriages. I'll be on my best behaviour." "So be it," she said. "Two hours. No sooner."

The western horizon had swallowed the sun and the two moons visible in the cloudless sky were soft red, like silver coins dipped in wine. The driver of the carriage rapped three times on the roof to announce their arrival at the Sinspire, and Locke moved the window curtain back over the corner he'd been peeking out of.

It had taken time for the pair of carriages to thread their way out of the Savrola, across the Great Gallery and through the bustling traffic of the Golden Steps. Locke had found himself alternately stifling yawns and cursing the bumpy ride. His companion, a slender swordswoman with a well-used rapier resting across her legs, had steadfastly ignored him from her position on the opposite seat.

Now, as the carriage jostled to a halt, she preceded him out through the door, tucking her weapon under a long blue coat that hung to her calves. After she'd scanned the warm night for trouble, she beckoned wordlessly for Locke to follow.

As per Locke's instructions, the carriage-driver had turned onto the cobbled drive that led to a courtyard behind the Sinspire. Here, a pair of converted stone houses held the tower's primary kitchens and food-storage areas. By the light of red and gold lanterns bobbing on unseen lines, Sinspire attendants were coming and going in squads — carrying forth elaborate meals and returning with empty platters. The smell of richly seasoned meat filled the air.

Locke's bodyguard continued to look around, as did the two soldiers atop the carriage, each dressed in nondescript coachman's uniforms. The second carriage, the one carrying Locke's suite of chairs, rattled to a halt behind the first. Its team of grey horses stamped their feet and snorted, as though the scent of the kitchens was not to their taste. A heavyset Sinspire attendant with thinning hair hurried over to Locke and bowed.

"Master Kosta," he said, "apologies, sir, but this is the service courtyard. We simply cannot receive you in the accustomed style here; the front doors are far more suited to—"

"I'm in the right place." Locke put one hand on the attendant's shoulder and slipped five silver volani into the man's vest pocket, letting the coins clink against one another as they slipped from his hand. "Find Selendri, as quickly as you can." "Find… uh… well—" "Selendri. She stands out in a crowd. Fetch her now." "Uh… yes, sir. Of course!"

Locke spent the next five minutes pacing in front of his carriage while the swordswoman tried to look casual and keep him within a few steps at the same time. Surely nobody would be foolish enough to try anything, he thought — not with five people at his beck and call, not here in the very heart of Requin's domain. Nonetheless, he was relieved to finally see Selendri step out through the service door, wearing a flame-coloured evening gown that made the brass of her artificial hand look molten where it reflected orange. "Kosta," she said. "To what do I owe the distraction?" "I need to see Requin." "Ah, but does Requin need to see^yow?"

"Very much," said Locke. "Please. I do need to see him in person. And I'm going to need some of your stronger attendants — I" ve brought gifts that need careful handling." "Gifts?"

Locke showed her to the second carriage and opened the door. She spared a quick glance at Locke's bodyguard, then stroked her brass hand with her flesh hand while she pondered the contents of the compartment.

"Are you entirely sure that such obvious bribery is the solution to your problems, Master Kosta?"

"It's not like that, Selendri. It's rather a long story. In fact, he'd be doing me a favour if he'd accept them. He has a tower to decorate. All I have is a rented suite and a storage room."

"Interesting." She closed the door to the second carriage, turned away and began walking back toward the tower. "I can't wait to hear this. You'll come up with me. Your attendants stay here, of course."

The swordswoman looked as diough she might utter a protest, so Locke shook his head firmly and pointed sternly at the first carriage. The glare she returned made him glad that she was bound by orders to protect him.