Joe Abercrombie - Sharp Ends

‘I will see you on the battlefield!’ shouted Javre.

Tunny winced and waved one finger round and round. ‘Let’s say nearby!’ And he was gone into the smoky murk.

‘You have spoiled my fun, Shevedieh, as always.’ Javre uncurled her fingers. A couple of the ruined cards dropped out. A couple of others were stuck to her palm and she had to shake them off. ‘I trust you are bloody well pleased with yourself.’

‘You’ve spoiled your own fun, as always, and I’m about as far from pleased as it’s possible to be, since you ask.’ She slid into Yolk’s chair. ‘No one else is going to help me, Javre. They don’t trust Carcolf. They don’t want Horald to kill them.’

Javre gave another snort and had to wipe more snot from under her scabbed nose with her scabbed knuckles. ‘On the Great Leveller I am ambivalent, as you know, but if you think I trust that wiggling snake any more than the plague-’

‘I don’t think we’re ever going to see eye to eye on her, do you?’

‘It is hard to see eye to eye with someone a foot shorter than you. She looks like a snake, moves like a snake, thinks like a snake. She saw you coming, Shevedieh, just like she always does, and she thought dinner . In spite of all the wrongs she has made you lick up down the years, she only had to swagger that round arse past you once and you were hooked all over again. She sank that ship with you on it, lest we forget!’

‘It’s different this time,’ muttered Shev, not sure whether the words hurt so much because they were false, or because they were true.

‘It is never different. Nothing ever is. How can a woman as clever as you not see it?’

‘I do fucking see it!’ screamed Shev, thumping the table and making the bottles rattle. ‘But I don’t care any more! I have to make the best of it. I have to have … something , before it’s too late!’ She felt tears stinging her eyes, her voice going high and warbly, but she couldn’t stop it. ‘I can’t run any more, Javre! I can’t run. I’m tired, and I need your help. Please. Help me.’

Javre stared at her for a long moment. Then she jerked up, barging the table over and sending its cargo of glasses, pots, bottles, pipes scattering, shattering, clattering across the filthy floor.

‘Cunt of the Goddess, Shevedieh, you know you only had to ask!’ She stabbed Shev painfully in the tit with one inept finger. ‘My sword is yours, always!’ Her brow knitted with puzzlement, then she stared wildly around. ‘Where is my sword?’

Shev sighed and nudged it from under Javre’s chair with the toe of her boot.

It was dark, down on this quietest part of the docks. The sea flapped and slopped at the mossy stones of the quay, and the warped supports of the wharves, and the slimy flanks of the moored boats. The reflections of the few lamps, torches and candles that still burned danced and broke in the restless water.

A gust of wind fluttered the ragged papers on the warehouse wall. Bills celebrating young King Jappo’s coronation pasted over bills celebrating the victory at Sweet Pines pasted over bills condemning Union aggression pasted over bills revelling in the ascension of Monzcarro Murcatto pasted over bills announcing the death of Monzcarro Murcatto pasted over bills trumpeting victories and defeats of enemies and rulers long forgotten. Probably it was only the ancient crust of bills that kept the warehouse standing.

Shev frowned out across the bay. In the distance she could just see a few faint points of light, flickering ghostly.

‘Carp Island,’ muttered Javre, planting a hand on her hip and nearly missing, she was that drunk.

Shev puffed out her cheeks. ‘And on Carp Island, Burroia’s Fort.’

‘And in Burroia’s Fort, Horald the Finger.’

‘And with Horald the Finger …’ Shev trailed off. God, she hoped Carcolf was still alive.

‘Once we are there,’ murmured Javre, leaning close enough that Shev almost gagged on the boozy reek of her breath, ‘what’s your plan?’

She wished she had time to get Javre sober. Or at least clean. But she did not. ‘Rescue Carcolf. Kill Horald. Don’t get killed ourselves.’

A pause, while Javre pushed the greasy hair out of her face then flicked something that had been stuck in it off her fingers. ‘I think you will agree that it is lacking detail.’

Shev took a glance up and down the quay. The thief’s glance, which looks without seeming to look. ‘You never complained about charging into the jaws of death before. Without plans, without weapons … without clothes, on more than one occasion.’

‘On clothes I am ambivalent, as you know, but I have always hated plans.’

‘Then why are you worried now?’

‘Because I always knew you would have one.’

‘Welcome to my life of constant doubt, anxiety and occasional sudden and unpredictable horror, Javre. I hope you enjoy your fucking visit.’ And she walked across the empty quay and down the steps to the nearest wharf. The thief’s walk, neither striding boldly nor scurrying crouched. The walk of someone forgettable going about their boring business. A walk that raises no eyebrows and no alarms.

A good thief goes unseen. A truly great one merely goes unnoticed.

She stopped by a boat that suited, checked the oars were in the bottom, then winced at a loud clatter, turned to see that Javre had stumbled into a set of fishing nets on a frame and was now tangled with them, desperately trying to stop them falling. She finally got them settled, shrugged at Shev, then strode down the wharf towards her, about the most conspicuous woman who ever drew breath.

‘Could you be any louder?’ hissed Shev.

‘Undoubtedly,’ said Javre, turning back towards the nets. ‘Shall I demonstrate?’

‘No, no, that’s fine!’ With some effort Shev steered her towards the boat, unshouldered her bag and tossed it in, then followed it silently across the flapping water.

‘You will simply steal it?’

‘The one upside of being a thief,’ Shev muttered through tight lips, ‘is that you can make free with things that don’t belong to you. It’s practically a requirement of the job.’

‘I understand the principle, but this is some poor bastard’s livelihood. Some family of righteous, honourable, hardworking bastards, maybe. There might be a dozen little weeping children depending on it.’

‘Better to rob the righteous,’ muttered Shev as she slipped the oars silently through the rowlocks. ‘Evil people tend to be suspicious and vengeful.’

Javre made her voice go piping high. ‘Oh, Daddy, whatever shall the twelve of us eat now that the boat is gone?’

‘For God’s sake, Javre, do I tell you how to start fights, suck cocks, destroy my property or ruin my life? No! I trust to your unchallengeable fucking expertise! Now let me steal the boat I judge appropriate! We can bring it back when we’re done!’

‘When do we ever do that? At the very least we bring it back smashed.’

‘ You bring it back smashed!’

Javre snorted. ‘You remember that cart we borrowed in-’

‘Might I remind you we have something of a demanding schedule?’ Shev pressed her fingers to her temples and gave a growl of frustration. ‘All the bloody arguing over every little bloody thing, it’s exhausting!’ She stabbed at the rower’s seat with a finger. ‘Just get in the fucking boat!’

‘Could you be any louder?’ Javre grumbled as she tossed the mooring rope in, followed it with the ragged bundle that contained her sword and clambered unsteadily after, the whole thing rocking alarmingly under her considerable weight. ‘You are the one always telling me I should give more thought to consequences,’