Joe Abercrombie - Sharp Ends

A quadruple bluff?

Friendly’s face betrayed no trace of greed, no trace of ambition, no trace of anything. He was without doubt a strange fellow but came highly recommended. He was all business, and she liked that in a man, though she would never have said so. A manager must maintain a certain detachment.

Sometimes things are just what they appear to be. Borfero had seen strange chances enough in her life.

‘This could be it,’ she mused, though in fact she was immediately sure. She was not a woman to waste time on possibilities.

Friendly nodded.

‘You have done well,’ she said.

He nodded again.

‘The Quarryman will want you to have a bonus.’ Be generous with your own people, she had always said, or others will be.

But generosity brought no response from Friendly.

‘A woman, perhaps?’

He looked a little pained by that suggestion. ‘No.’

‘A man?’

And that one. ‘No.’

‘Husk? A bottle of-’

‘No.’

‘There must be something.’

He shrugged.

Mistress Borfero puffed out her cheeks. Everything she had she’d made by tickling out people’s desires. She was not sure what to do with a person who had none. ‘Well, why don’t you think about it?’

Friendly slowly nodded. ‘I will think.’

‘Did you see two Northmen drinking on your way in?’

‘I saw two Northmen. One was reading a book.’

‘Really? A book?’

Friendly shrugged. ‘There are readers everywhere.’

She swept through the place, noting the disappointing lack of wealthy custom and estimating just how dismal this evening’s profits were like to be. If one of the Northmen had been reading, he had given up. Deep was drinking some of her best wine straight from the bottle. Three others lay scattered, empty, beneath the table. Shallow was smoking a chagga pipe, the air thick with the stink of it. Borfero did not allow it normally, but she was obliged to make an exception for these two. Why the bank chose to employ such repugnant specimens she had not the slightest notion. But she supposed rich people need not explain themselves.

‘Gentlemen,’ she said, insinuating herself into a chair.

‘Where?’ Shallow gave a croaky laugh. Deep slowly tipped his bottle up and eyed his brother over the neck with sour distain.

Borfero continued in her business voice, soft and reasonable. ‘You said your … employers would be most grateful if I came upon … that certain item you mentioned.’

The two Northmen perked up, both leaning forward as though drawn by the same string, Shallow’s boot catching an empty bottle and sending it rolling in an arc across the floor.

‘Greatly grateful,’ said Deep.

‘And how much of my debt would their gratitude stretch around?’

‘All of it.’

Borfero felt her skin tingling. Freedom. Could it really be? In her pocket, even now? But she must not let the size of the stakes make her careless. The greater the pay-off, the greater the caution. ‘My debt would be finished?’

Shallow leaned close, drawing the stem of his pipe across his stubbled throat. ‘Killed,’ he said.

‘Murdered,’ growled his brother, suddenly no further off on the other side.

She in no way enjoyed having those scarred and lumpen killers’ physiognomies so near. Another few moments of their breath alone might have done for her. ‘Excellent,’ she squeaked, and slipped the package onto the table. ‘Then I shall cancel the interest payments forthwith. Do please convey my regards to … your employers.’

‘Course.’ Shallow did not so much smile as show his sharp teeth. ‘Don’t reckon your regards’ll mean much to them, though.’

‘Don’t take it personally, eh?’ Deep did not smile. ‘Our employers just don’t care much for regards.’

Borfero took a sharp breath. ‘Tough times all over.’

‘Ain’t they, though?’ And Deep stood, and swept the package up in one big paw.

The cool air caught Deep like a slap as they stepped out into the evening. Sipani, none too pleasant when it was still, had a decided spin to it of a sudden.

‘I have to confess,’ he said, clearing his throat and spitting, ‘to being somewhat on the drunk side of drunk.’

‘Aye,’ said Shallow, burping as he squinted into the mist. At least that was clearing somewhat. As clear as it got in this murky hell of a place, anyway. ‘Probably not the bestest notion while at work, mind you.’

‘You’re right.’ Deep held the baggage up to such light as there was. ‘But who expected this to just drop in our laps?’

‘Not I, for one.’ Shallow frowned. ‘Or for … not one?’

‘It was meant to be just a tipple,’ said Deep.

‘One tipple does have a habit of making itself into several.’ Shallow wedged on that stupid bloody hat. ‘A little stroll over to the bank, then?’

‘That hat makes you look a fucking dunce.’

‘You, brother, are obsessed with appearances.’

Deep passed that off with a long hiss.

‘They really going to score out that woman’s debts, d’you think?’

‘For now, maybe. But you know how they are. Once you owe, you always owe.’ Deep spat again and, now the alley was a tad steadier, tottered off with the baggage clutched tight in his hand. No chance he was putting it in a pocket where some little scab could lift it. Sipani was full of thieving bastards. He’d had his good socks stolen last time he was here and worked up an unpleasant pair of blisters on the trip home. Who steals socks? Styrian bastards. He’d keep a good firm grip on it. Let the little fuckers try to take it then .

‘Now who’s the dunce?’ Shallow called after him. ‘The bank’s this way.’

‘Only we ain’t going to the bank, dunce ,’ snapped Deep over his shoulder. ‘We’re to toss it down a well in an old court just around the corner here.’

Shallow hurried to catch up. ‘We are?’

‘No, I just said it for the laugh, y’idiot.’

‘Why down a well?’

‘Because that’s how he wanted it done.’

‘Who wanted it done?’

‘The boss.’

‘The little boss, or the big boss?’

Even drunk as Deep was, he felt the need to lower his voice. ‘The bald boss.’

‘Shit,’ breathed Shallow. ‘In person?’

‘In person.’

A short pause. ‘How was that?’

‘It was even more than usually terrifying, thanks for reminding me.’

A long pause, with just the sound of their boots on the wet cobbles. Then Shallow said, ‘We better hadn’t do no fucking up of this.’

‘My heartfelt thanks,’ said Deep, ‘for that piercing insight. Fucking up is always to be avoided when and wherever possible, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Y’always aim to avoid it, of course you do, but sometimes you run into it anyway. What I’m saying here is we’d best not run into it.’ Shallow dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘You know what the bald boss said last time.’

‘You don’t have to whisper. He ain’t here, is he?’

Shallow looked wildly around. ‘I don’t know. Is he?’

‘No, he ain’t.’ Deep rubbed at his temples. One day he’d kill his brother, that was a foregone conclusion. ‘That’s what I’m saying.’

‘What if he was, though? Best to always act like he might be.’

‘Can you shut your mouth just for a fucking instant ?’ Deep caught Shallow by the arm and stabbed the baggage in his face. ‘It’s like talking to a bloody-’

He was greatly surprised when a dark shape whisked between them and he found his hand was suddenly empty.

Kiam ran like her life depended on it. Which it did, o’ course.

‘Get after him, damn it!’

And she heard the two Northmen flapping and crashing and blundering down the alley behind, and nowhere near far enough behind for her taste.