The Republic of Thieves

“And that’s what we do,” she said. “Both of us, professionally. I tricked you, and I meant to trick you, and I’m sorry that hurts, but this is our trade.”

“Not this. You didn’t just trick me. You used the deepest feelings I have ever had for anyone, and you know it! You exploited a weakness that only exists when I’m around you!”

“Woman convinces man to impale himself on his own hard-on. There’s a very old story! The world didn’t stop just because it happened again.”

“I’m not an infant, Sabetha. I’m not talking about sex; I’m talking about trust.”

“I put you on that ship for your own gods-damned good, Locke. I knew this would happen! I didn’t just need you out of the way and I wasn’t just minding your health. I knew you’d beat your brains out against your stupid obsession.”

“Oh, marvelous. Lovely fucking plan, because I certainly didn’t think about you once during the nine days it took to get back to Karthain.”

She had the good grace to glance away.

“What the hell is this, anyway? First you don’t need to justify yourself at all, and now it was for my own good?” Locke, feeling hot, angrily unbuttoned the stained, oversized riding jacket he’d taken from the stolen carriage. “And you are NOT a stupid obsession!”

“I’m a grown woman who’s telling you we cannot wind the clock back five years just because you can’t work up the courage to make a pass at someone else.”

“Courage? Who the hell do you think you are, telling me about my courage? Courage is what it takes to come after you! Courage is what it takes to put up with your self-righteous gods-damned martyr act!”

“You cocksure, self-entitled, swaggering little ass!”

“Tell me you never liked me,” said Locke, advancing step by step. “Tell me you never found me worthwhile. Tell me we didn’t have good years together. That’s all it would take!”

“Stubborn, fixated—”

“Tell me you weren’t pleased to see me!”

“… presumptuous—”

“Quit telling me things I already know!” They were suddenly less than a foot apart. “Quit making excuses. Tell me you can’t stand me. Otherwise—”

“You … you … whew, Locke, in faith, you reek.”

“Is that a surprise? What was I supposed to do, swim back to Karthain?”

“You were supposed to stay on the damned ship! I gave very specific directions about the availability of baths, for one thing.”

“If you wanted me to stay on the ship,” he said, “you should have been on it.”

“You look ridiculous.” Locke fought for self-control as Sabetha slowly ran two fingers down his left cheek. “You look bowlegged. Gods above, did you leave any dust on the road after you passed?”

“You can’t, can you?”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t tell me to get lost. Not to my face, not now that I’ve called you out. You don’t really want me to go away.”

“I do not have to explain myself by your terms!”

“Better cinch up that jacket, Sabetha, I think your conscience is showing.”

“We are servants of the Bondsmagi,” she whispered angrily. “We came here of our own free will, and we both screwed things up badly enough that we need this. Our position is precarious. And if we get too friendly, at least one of us gets killed.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying we don’t need to be careful. I’m just pointing out that there’s nothing forbidding us from having a personal life.”

“Everything personal is business with us.” She brushed the dust from his cheek against her coat. “And all of our damned business is personal.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Dinner. It’s a meal. Men and women often have it together. Ask around if you don’t believe me.”

“For this you twisted my majordomo’s balls off?”

“You said we’re not kids fumbling around in the back of a wagon, and you’re right. We’re in charge of our own gods-damned lives no matter how hard we’ve been kicked around. We can set the clock back however many years we like. It’s ours to set!”

“This is crazy.”

“No. Two weeks ago I was begging to die. That’s crazy. Two weeks ago I came this close, this close.” He held up a thumb and forefinger with no space at all between them. “I hit the black wall between this life and the next, believe me. I am through fucking around. Maybe this is going to complicate the hell out of things. So what? You’re the complication I want more than anything else. You’re my favorite complication. No matter what sort of holes you poke in my trust.”

“You know, self-pity is the only thing that smells worse than four days of road sweat.”

“Self-pity is about the only straw left to cling to after YOU happen to a fellow,” said Locke. “We can have this if we both want it. But you have to want it, too. This isn’t me trying to convince you of anything, unless …”

“Unless?”

“Unless some part of you is already convinced.”

“Dinner,” she said softly.

“And a contractual option for … subsequent complications. At your discretion.”

She couldn’t or wouldn’t meet his gaze during the silence that filled the next few seconds. Locke’s blood seemed to turn to gel in his veins.

“Where are we going?” she said at last.

“How the hell should I know?” Relief hit so hard he wobbled on his feet.

Sabetha’s right arm darted out and caught him around the waist. They both stood staring at the point of contact for a long, frozen moment, and then she drew back again.

“Are you all right?” she said softly.

“I, uh, guess I really liked your answer. But come now, how much time have you left me to figure out where anything is in this damned city? You’re morally obligated to pick the place. Tomorrow night.”

“Let it be sunset,” she said. “Do you trust me to send a carriage?”

“Jean and I won’t be together,” said Locke. “We’ll make sure of it. If I don’t come back in a reasonable amount of time, you can face him, pissed off and unrestrained. How’s that for a safeguard?”

“Not trouble I’d invite if I could help it.” She put her hands behind her back and regarded him appraisingly. “What now?”

“Depends. Do I still have an inn to go home to?”

“I’ve left Josten alone. Mostly.”

“Well, then, I’ve got to go soothe my children and, uh, figure out just how the hell I’m going to beat you.”

“Cocksure, infuriating little shit,” she said, without malice.

“Arrogant bitch,” he said, grinning as he backed toward the door. “Arrogant, stubborn, gorgeous bitch. And hey, if I catch one whiff of that perfume you were wearing last time—”

“If I catch one whiff of horses and road sweat, you’re going back to sea.”

“I’ll take a bath.”

“Take two. And … I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“You will,” said Locke.

He reached the door, crediting himself with enough wits to not turn his back on her, at least not yet. He