The Republic of Thieves

Locke’s heart seemed to skip a beat.

“That’s what we were in the business of figuring out when you showed up,” said Moncraine. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I suppose I might as well make my decision. I’ll hedge our bets. Lucaza, you’ll be Ferrin.”

“I would love to … wait, what?” said Locke.

“You heard me. Aurin’s a role that needs more nuance. I want Alondo to handle it.”

“But—”

“That’s all,” said Jasmer. “That’s it for today. No further discussion. And gods help me, I can quote the company charter as well as Jenora can. Next one of you that lays a finger on anyone else here gets docked. Wages, shares, work time—I don’t give a damn. I’ll spank you like an angry father. Now, go!”

5

“PENTHRA,” MUTTERED Jean, reading aloud from the script in his hands, “a fallen noblewoman of Therim Pel. Amadine’s boon companion.”

“I’ve read the bloody character list, Jean.” Locke and Jean sat in the corner of Mistress Gloriano’s common room farthest from the bar, where Bertrand, Jasmer, Alondo, Chantal, and Sylvanus were drinking up a significant portion of the company’s future profits. Dinner was just past. “Wait, are you trying to ignore me?”

“Yes.” Jean closed his copy of the play with a sigh. “My ribs ache, I got thrown out of the play, I’m now a bookkeeping stevedore, and you’re plumbing new depths of tedium with your moping.”

“But I—”

“Seriously, if you want to kiss her onstage so badly just speak to Jasmer.”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it.” Locke sipped his cup of warm dark ale, barely tasting it. “Says it’s an artistic decision and therefore not subject to debate.”

“Then talk to Alondo.”

“He acts for a living. Why would he give up the plum role?”

“I don’t know, because you tricked him? Because you convinced him? Rumor has it you took some lessons in being tricky and convincing.”

“Yeah, but … he’s a decent enough fellow. It’s not like yanking Jasmer around. Feels wrong.”

“Then listen here, my friend. I’m not an oracle and I’m not going to turn into one no matter how long you sit there crying in your beer. You know I used to think that the Sanzas were the biggest annoyance around? I was wrong. Until you and Sabetha get your shit together, they’re the least of all possible evils.”

“She’s just so gods-damned inscrutable.”

“You were talking to her before, right?”

“Yeah. It was going well. Now it’s all strange.”

“Have you considered extreme, desperate measures like talking to her again?”

“Yeah, but, well …”

“You’ve yeah-but your way to this point,” said Jean. “You’re going to yeah-but this mess until it’s time to go home, and I don’t doubt you’ll yeah- but her out of your life. Quit circling at a distance. Go talk to her, for Preva’s sake.”

“Where is she?”

“She sneaks up to the roof when the rest of us are down here making idiots of ourselves.”

“She won’t … I dunno, it’s not that it’s—”

“Reach between your legs,” growled Jean, “and find some balls, or you do not get to speak to me on the subject of her for the rest of the summer.”

“I’m sorry,” said Locke. “I just hate the thought of screwing things up worse than they are. You know I’ve got talents in that direction.”

“Ha. Indeed. Try being direct and honest. I can’t give you any more specific advice. When the hell have I ever charmed my way under anyone’s dress, hmm? All I know is that if you and Sabetha don’t reach some understanding we’re all going to regret it. But you most of all.”

“You’re right.” Locke took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right!”

“Pretty routinely,” sighed Jean. “Are you going?”

“Absolutely.”

“Not with that beer, you’re not. Give it over.” Locke did so with an absentminded air, and Jean drained the cup in one gulp.

“Okay,” he said. “Go! Before your so-called better judgment has a chance to wake back up. Wait, that’s not the way up. Where the hell are you going?”

“Just back to the bar,” said Locke. “I have a bright idea.”

6

LANGUID, THICK-AIRED evening had come down on Espara, and the city lights were flicking to life beneath a sky the color of harvest grapes. Mistress Gloriano’s crooked gables concealed a little balcony, westward-facing, where two people could sit side by side, assuming they were on good terms. Locke eased the balcony hatch open carefully, peered out, and found Sabetha staring directly at him with eyebrows raised. She lowered her copy of The Republic of Thieves.

“Hi,” said Locke, much less confidently than he’d imagined he would as he’d climbed the little passage from the second floor. “Can I, ah, share your balcony for a little while?”

“I was going over my part.”

“You expect me to believe you don’t already have the whole thing memorized?”

It was as though she couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or exasperated. Locke knew the expression well. After a moment, she set her book down and beckoned him out. He sat down cross-legged, as she was, and they faced one another.

“What’s behind your back?” she said.

“A small kindness.” He showed her the wineskin and two small clay cups he’d been concealing. “Or a bribe. Depending on how you look at it.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“If I’d been worried about thirst, I’d have brought you water. I was worried about knives.”

“Knives?”

“Yeah, the ones you’ve had out for a few days now. I was hoping to sort of dull the edges.”

“Isn’t that rather knavish? Plying a girl with drink?”

“In this case it’s more like self-defense. And I did sort of think you might just … like a cup of wine.”

“And then perhaps a second? And a third, and so on, until my inhibitions were sufficiently elastic?”

“I didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes, well … perhaps not.”

“Gods, I forgot that anyone who wants to be nice to you has to get permission in advance and wear heavy armor.” Biting his lip, Locke poured the pale wine carelessly and slid one of the cups toward her. “Look, you can pretend it just appeared there by magic if it makes you happy.”

“Is that Anjani orange wine?”

“If it’s Anjani my ass is made of gold,” said Locke, sipping from his cup. “But it was some kind of orange, once upon a time.”

“And what miracle are you trying to coax out of me, exactly?”

“Simple conversation? What’s happened, Sabetha? We were talking, actually talking. It was … it was really nice. And we worked well together! But now you snap for no reason. You find excuses to cut me dead. You keep