The Republic of Thieves

“Well, they’re not penniless. But I wouldn’t go so far as gentlemen.”

“Hirelings,” said Locke, removing some of the more obvious pieces of jewelry Nikoros had secured for him and stuffing them into a coat pocket. “Valets. Professional men of convenience, unless I miss my guess. I’m a little overdressed for this, but I think I can compensate by toning down my manners.”

“Overdressed for what?” said Jean.

“Insulting complete strangers,” said Locke, loosening his neck-cloth. “Got to mind the delicate social nuances when you inform some poor fellow that he’s a dumb motherfucker.”

8

“HANG ON,” said Jean. “If you’re looking to start a fight, I’m—”

“I thought about that,” said Locke. “You’re likely to scare them. I need them to feel insulted and not threatened. That makes it my job.”

“Well, would you like me to intervene before you get your teeth punched out, or is that part of your scheme?”

“If I’m right,” said Locke, “you won’t need to. If I’m wrong, I grant you full license to indulge in an ‘I told you so’ when I’m conscious again, with an option for a ‘you stupid bastard’ if you choose.”

“I’ll claim that privilege.” The quick-moving waiter appeared with a second cup of coffee for Jean. He seized it and slapped a pair of copper coins down in its place. The waiter bowed.

“Josten,” said Locke, “if it turns out I’m about to do something knavish to honest customers, we’ll compensate you.”

“Going to be a damned interesting six weeks,” muttered Josten.

Locke took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and walked over to the table at which the three strangers sat. Jean stayed some distance behind, minding his cup of coffee. His presence there was a comfort, familiar as a shadow.

“Good afternoon,” said Locke. “Lazari is my name. I trust I’m intruding.”

“I’m sorry,” said the man closest to Locke, “but we were—”

“I’m afraid I don’t care,” said Locke. He slid into an unclaimed chair and appraised the strangers: young, clean, well-groomed, not quite expensively dressed. They were sharing a bottle of white wine and a pitcher of water.

“We were having a private discussion!” said the man on Locke’s right.

“Ah, but I’m here to do you two a service.” Locke gestured at the two men sitting across from him. “Concerning the fellow I’m sitting next to. Word around the bar is that he can only get it up when he’s on top of another fellow he’s taken by force or subterfuge.”

“What the hell is this?” hissed the man on the right.

“Phrased less delicately,” said Locke, “if you continue to associate with this well-known deceiver, he’s going to tie you down, do you somewhere very untidy until you bleed, and not bother to untie you after.”

“This is unseemly,” said one of the men across the table. “Unseemly, and if you don’t withdraw immediately—”

“I’d be more worried about your friend not withdrawing immediately,” said Locke. “He’s not known for being quick.”

“What’s the meaning of this infantile interruption?” The man on Locke’s right pounded on the table, just strongly enough to rattle the bottle and glasses.

“Good gods,” said Locke, pretending to notice the wine for the first time, “you thoroughly artless fuck-stains didn’t actually drink any of that, did you?”

He swept his hat off and used it to knock the wineglasses of the men across from him into their laps.

“You bastard!” said one.

“Why I … I …” sputtered the other.

“But then, maybe it’s not drugged after all.” Locke grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. “Wouldn’t need to be, for Karthani. Milk-sucking pants-pissers could get drunk off the smell of an empty bottle!”

“I’ll … fetch the landlord!” said the man across from him on the left, retrieving his empty glass from his lap.

“Frightening,” said Locke. “Savage as a kitten on a tit. Say, did you ever hear the one about the rich Karthani and the Karthani who knew who his mother was? Shit, wait, I said Karthani, didn’t I? Told the damn thing wrong.”

“Leave,” said the man on his right. “Leave! Now!”

“Hey, how does a Karthani find out his wife is having her monthly flow? He crawls into his son’s bed and the boy’s cock is already wet. Ha! Oh, have you heard the one about the Karthani who claimed he could count to five—”

The man on Locke’s right pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. Locke grabbed him by the lapel. The man halted, glowering. Locke didn’t have the strength to drag him back down if he decided to fight, but the crucial insult of the uninvited touch was already given.

“Where are you off to?” said Locke. “I haven’t finished my sensitive cultural exchange.”

“Remove your hand from my coat, you obnoxious—”

“Or else what?”

“We take this to the master of the house.”

“I am the master of the house,” said Locke. “And you already know it. You’ve been sent here to watch for my coming. See the hefty gentleman ten yards behind me? He’s the other one you’re looking for. Take a long, careful look, children. I don’t doubt that your mistress expects a detailed report.”

The man jerked away.

“Come now,” said Locke reasonably, taking another swig from the wine bottle. “No men with any quantity of self-respect could have borne the abuse I’ve just given you. If you were gentlemen you’d have called me out, and if you were roughs you’d have punched me in the teeth. The fact is, you’ve been paid a tidy sum to sit here spying on me, and you were all confused as hell about what to do when I pissed on your dignity.”

The two men across the table started to rise, and Locke gestured sharply for them to remain seated.

“Don’t do anything stupid now, sirs. There’s no retrieving your situation. Lift one finger in an unkind act, and I guarantee it’ll take six months for your bones to knit. I’ll also have fifty witnesses swearing you had it coming.”

“What do you want with us?” muttered the man on the right.

“Haul your pathetic carcasses out the door. Be quick and polite. If I ever see you within shouting distance of Josten’s again, you’ll wake up in an alley with all your teeth shoved up your ass. That goes for your absent friend, too.”

Locke put his hat back on, stood up, and strolled casually away. He spared a smile for Jean, who raised his coffee cup in salute—the scrape of chairs against the floor behind him told Locke that the men were departing in haste. He and Jean watched them leave.

“You really are a vulgar little cuss when the spirit moves you,” said Jean.

“I’ve got worse,” said Locke. “Stored on some high shelf in my mind like an alchemist’s poisons. Got most of it from Calo and Galdo.”

“Well, you were venomous enough for our obvious friends.”

“Yes. Obvious. A fine thing to chase out the conspicuous spies. Now all we have to worry about are the capable ones.”

9

LOCKE DESTROYED an excellent luncheon for six—Jean contented himself with a small corner of the feast,