The Republic of Thieves

“If I hadn’t said yes, I’d be dead.”

“Well, if I hadn’t said yes, I’d still be somewhere in the Marrows with Graf kul Daros’ agents one step behind me. I have to confess I didn’t manage to get out with as much money or anonymity as I might have hoped. In fact, I’ve … understated the mess I left behind me. I’m sorry.”

“Jean and I … weren’t coming off one of our more lucrative exploits, either.”

“So neither of us had any sensible reason to refuse this engagement.” Sabetha leaned forward. “The magi offered to get me out. To erase my tracks, help me disappear in complete safety. That was their end of the bargain. And for my part, the chance to see you and Jean again was agreeable.”

“Agreeable?”

“No doubt you find it a mild term. But this conversation’s too young to go back on our steps just yet. I’ve given you my facts; now give me yours. Tell me what happened in Camorr.”

“Ah. Well.” Locke found himself trying to scratch at the stubble that was no longer present on his chin. “We had a scheme going. A good one, that would have added a fair sum to that pile of treasure you detested.”

“This was when the Gray King was abroad in the city?”

“Gray King, Capa Raza, same man. Yes, we were chosen for the dubious honor of assisting the bastard in his war against the Barsavis. He had a Bondsmage working for him.”

“My … principals told me about him,” said Sabetha.

“The murdering shit-stain was no credit to your principals, whatever they think. Anyhow, he must have spied us out along with the money in our vault. I’ve had a long time to think about the situation, and it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“We did our job,” he continued, “and then it turned out that the Gray King coveted our good fortune. He had a lot of bills to pay. So we got the chop. It was—”

Every fiber of his being, already unhinged by his more recent illness, revolted at the recollection of those moments drowning in a cask of warm, soupy filth.

“… it was a near thing.”

“Did any of the Barsavis survive?”

“None. Nazca was murdered to put her father’s nerves on edge. With our help, the Gray King tricked Barsavi into thinking he’d avenged her. He threw a party at the Floating Grave, and that’s where he and his sons were taken apart. Hell of a spectacle. Remember the Berangias sisters?”

“How could I forget?”

“They were in on it. Turns out they were actually the sisters of the Gray King. They served Barsavi all those years, waiting for the moment to strike.”

“Gods, what happened to them?”

“Jean happened.”

“And this Gray King?”

“Ah.” Locke cleared his throat. “He was my affair. We crossed swords.”

“Now, to that I must admit some pleasant surprise,” said Sabetha, and Locke felt a fresh warmth around his heart at the sparkle of interest in her eyes. “Did you finally start paying attention to your bladework?”

“Ah, don’t be misled. I’m afraid he opened me up like a physiker. I had to trick him into letting me sheath a dagger in his back.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “I’m pleased you killed him. Still a pity you never amended your clumsiness with long steel.”

“Well, Sabetha, unlike some, I’m afraid I’ve just never had it in me to instantly presume a flawless expertise in every last sphere of human endeavor.”

“There was nothing instant about it. You might have thrown yourself into training as vigorously as I did, if you hadn’t lived with the expectation of having Jean Tannen at your back for the rest of your life.”

“No. Gods damn it, I would gladly listen to you berate me until the sun comes up, but not on this subject. Jean isn’t some dog I tricked into a leash. He’s my true and particular friend. He’s still your true and particular friend, though both of you may need some time to recall it.”

“Forgive me,” she said. “I had your best interests at heart.”

“For someone whose primary insistence in life has always been that she must be taken true and unalloyed, unbending to the whims of those around her, you have a curious interest in the correction of my condition!”

“Ouch,” she said softly.

“Fuck.” Locke slammed his fists down on his legs. “Forgive me. I know you mean well—”

“No, you’re right,” she said. “I’m an extraordinarily accomplished hypocrite. Anything that displeased you is unsaid. Please go on with your story.”

“Ahhh … all right. Well. Not much more to say about Camorr. We took ship for Vel Virazzo the night the Gray King died. Oh! I met the Spider.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“When the Gray King business reached its conclusion, the duke’s people had no choice but to get involved. After an initial misunderstanding, the Spider and I worked together. Very briefly.”

“Sweet gods, were you pardoned for your crimes?”

“Oh, hells, no. Once the Gray King was dead, Jean and I bolted like rabbits.”

“And did you learn the actual identity of the Spider?”

“Yes, she and I had words on several occasions.”

“So it was a woman! As I’d always thought.”

“How did you know?”

“All those years of rumors,” said Sabetha, “and the one detail that emerged with absolute clarity from the fog was that the Spider was a man. Everyone was certain. Now, if this person could maintain total control over every other shred of their identity, why was such a fundamental truth allowed to slip? It had to be misdirection.”

“Heh. So it was.”

“And who was she, then?”

“Ahhh,” said Locke. “I see I’ve got something that genuinely intrigues you. I think I’ll hold on to it for a while.”

“Oh? I’ll remember this, Master Lamora. On that you have my word. So you took ship. What next?”

Warmed to the subject, Locke spent about ten minutes summarizing the two years spent in and around Tal Verrar—the nature of the scheme for Requin’s Sinspire, the interference of Maxilan Stragos, the time in the Ghostwinds, the battles at sea, the loss of Ezri, the loss of nearly everything.

“Incredible,” Sabetha said when he drew his story to a close. “I’d heard about the trouble in Tal Verrar. You caused all that. You brought the gods-damned Archon down! You silly, stupid, lucky little wretches!”

“And for our genius, we left Tal Verrar without Jean’s love, without a fortune, and without an antidote.”

“I’m sorry for all of that. Especially for Jean.”

“I’d say something comforting, like how he’ll get over it in time, but I know he won’t.” Locke paused, and lowered his voice. “I know I didn’t.”

“Ah,” said Sabetha. It was a completely noncommittal noise. “And here we are, then.”

“Here we are,” said Locke. “Stories told.”

“I have … instructions from my principals,” she said. “We’re not forbidden from talking to one another, but in the matter of the election … Look, we’ve got to fight it out to the last. Sincerely. All of our tricks, all of our skills. The consequences for holding back would be severe. So severe, I could never—”

“I understand,” he said. “I have similar directions from my … uh, principals.”

“Gods, I wish we could talk all night.”

“Then why don’t we?”

“Because I didn’t expect to get this much honesty out of you.” She rose. “And if I don’t do what I really