were dealing with a growth spurt that had given their usual grace a humbling dose of awkwardness, and their voices were starting to veer wildly. Jean Tannen was still on the cherubic side, but his shoulders were broadening, and from scuffles like the Half-Crown War he had acquired the confident air of someone well versed in the art of introducing faces to cobblestones.
Given these evident signs of physical progress around him, Locke was secretly displeased with his own condition. His voice had yet to drop, and while he was larger than he’d ever been, all this did was maintain him in the same ratio as before, a medium child surrounded on all sides by the taller and the wider. And while he knew the other boys depended upon him to be the heart and brains of their combined operations, it was a cold comfort whenever Sabetha came home.
Sabetha (who, if she objected to being the only Gentle-lady Bastard, had never said so out loud) was freshly returned from weeks of immersive training as a court scrivener’s apprentice, and bore new signs of physical progress herself. She was still taller than Locke, and the natural color of her tightly plaited hair remained hidden by a brown alchemical wash. But her slender figure seemed to be pressing outward, ever so slightly, against the front of her thin chemise, and her movements around the glass burrow had revealed the hints of other emerging curves to Locke’s vigilant eyes.
Her natural poise had grown in direct proportion to her years, and while Locke held firm sway over the three other boys, she was a separate power, neither belittling his status in the gang nor overtly acknowledging it. There was a seriousness to her that Locke found deeply compelling, possibly because it was unique among the five of them. She had embarked upon a sort of miniature adulthood and skipped the wild facetiousness that defined, for example, the Sanzas. It seemed to Locke that she was more eager than the rest of them to get to wherever their training was taking them.
“Young lady,” said Father Chains as he entered the kitchen, “and young gentlemen, such as you are. Thank you for your prompt attention to my summons, a courtesy which I shall now repay by setting you on a path to frustration and acrimony. I have decided that you five do not fight amongst yourselves nearly enough.”
“Begging your pardon,” said Sabetha, “but if you’ll look more closely at Calo and Galdo you’ll see that’s not the case.”
“Ah, that’s merely communication,” said Chains. “Just as you and I speak by forming words, the natural, private discourse of the Sanza twins appears to consist entirely of farts and savage beatings. What I want is all five of you facing off against one another.”
“You want us to start … hitting each other?” said Locke.
“Oh, I volunteer to hit Sabetha,” said Calo, “and I volunteer to be hit by Locke!”
“I would also volunteer to be hit by Locke,” said Galdo.
“Quiet, you turnip-brained alley apes,” said Chains. “I don’t want you boxing with one another. Not necessarily. No, I’ve given you all a great many tasks that have pitted you against the world, as individuals and as a group, and for the most part you’ve trounced my expectations. I think the time has come to pry you out of your comfortable little union and see how you fare in competition against one another.”
“What sort of competition?” said Jean.
“Highly amusing competition,” said Chains, raising his eyebrows. “From the perspective of the old man who gets to sit back and watch. It’s been three or four years of steady training for most of you, and I want to see what happens when each of you tries to pit your zest for criminal enterprise against an opponent with a similar education.”
“So, uh, just to be clear,” said Calo, “none of us are going to be fighting Jean?”
“Not unless you’re inconceivably stupid.”
“Right,” said Calo. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to keep you all here for the rest of the summer,” said Chains. “A break from your apprenticeships. We can enjoy the marvelous weather together, and you can chase each other across the city. Starting with—” He lifted a finger and pointed it at Locke. “You. Aaaaaaand …” He slowly shifted his finger until it was pointed at Sabetha. “You!”
“Um, meaning what, exactly?” said Locke. Butterflies instantly came to life in his stomach, and the little bastards were heavily armed.
“A bit of elementary stalking and evasion, on Coin-Kisser’s Row. Tomorrow at noon.”
“Surrounded by hundreds of people,” said Sabetha coolly.
“Quite right, my dear. It’s easy enough to follow someone when you’ve got the whole night to hide in. I think you’re ready for something less forgiving. You’ll begin at the very southern end of Coin-Kisser’s Row, carrying a handbag with an open top. Inside the bag will be four small rolls of silk, each a different color. Easily visible from ten or twenty feet away. You’ll take a leisurely stroll up the full length of the district.
“Somewhere in your wake will be Locke, wearing a jacket with a certain number of brass buttons, also easily counted from a fairly narrow distance. The game is simple. Locke wins if he can tell me the colors of the silk. Sabetha wins if she crosses the Goldenreach Bridge from Coin-Kisser’s Row to Twosilver Green without revealing the colors. She can
“Hold on,” said Locke. “I get one way to win and she gets two?”
“Perhaps you can try burning down the Goldenreach Bridge,” Sabetha said sweetly.
“Yes, she gets two,” said Chains, “and fortunately for Camorr, the bridge is made of stone. Sabetha has a package to guard, and must, as I have said, move at a
“Ah.”
“You’re not to physically touch one another. You may not simply cover up the silk or the buttons. You may not have your opponent harmed or restrained in any fashion. And neither of you may call upon any of the other Gentlemen Bastards for help.”
“Where do we get to be, then?” said Galdo.
“Safely at home,” said Chains, “sitting the steps in my place.”
“Oh, balls to that, we want to see what happens!”
“One thing the contest does not need,” said Chains, “is a chorus of gawkers stumbling along for the duration. I’ll be nearby, watching everything, and I promise to give you a very lively account upon my return. Now—” He produced two small leather bags and tossed them to Locke and Sabetha. “Your operating funds.”
Locke opened his bag and counted ten silver solons.
“You’ve got all night to think about what you’re doing,” said Chains. “You may come and go as you please. Don’t feel compelled to buy anything, but if you do, the coins I’ve given you are your absolute limit.”
“What’s this all for?” said Locke.
“To put you on the spot, and thereby—”
“I think,” said Sabetha, “he meant to ask, what’s in it for the winner?”
“Ah,” said Chains. “Of course. Well, other than acquiring a vast sense of personal satisfaction, the winner will hand their dinner chores over to the loser for three nights. How’s that?”
Locke watched Sabetha, and when she nodded once, he did the same. The girl already seemed to be lost in thought, and Locke felt a touch of apprehension beneath his rising excitement. He had every confidence in his own skills, as they had fetched him everything from coin purses to corpses without much difficulty, but the full extent of Sabetha’s abilities was unknown to him. Her absences from the temple had been lengthier than those of any of the boys, and out there in the wider world she could have learned an infinite variety of nasty surprises.
3
SABETHA EXCUSED herself a few minutes later and vanished into the night, off to make whatever arrangements she thought were necessary. Locke followed in haste, throwing on the white robes of an initiate of Perelandro, but by the time he reached the hot, smoky air of the Temple District’s central plaza, she had long since
