No hand came. As he reached the arch, he risked another glance back towards the door. What he saw was a man, hurrying quickly away, heading towards him, face bowed against the rain. The man ran right past him, without seeing him, without even noticing that he was there. Berren stood absolutely still, and watched him go.
It was Master Sy.
35
SYANNIS
There were children playing in the yard again, the same scruffy half-a-dozen ragamuffins who came in every few days and sang songs and chased each other with sticks until someone else in turn chased them away. As Berren came into the yard, soaked to the skin, they were dancing. The rain didn’t seem to trouble them at all.
‘Man with no shadow that nobody knows Comes to harvest that which he sows Great white tower made of stone that grows Home to the makers of all of man’s woes
Four great wizards come out of the sky Lay to rest the dead that rise Two born low and two born high Touched by silver, three will die
Dragon-king and dark lord’s bane Each will wax and then will wane The Bloody Judge lifts his hand All is razed to ash and sand
Black moon comes, round and round Black moon comes, all fall down.’
Today Berren ignored them, hurrying past and into the thief-taker’s house. The door was open, and when he got inside, there was Master Sy, sitting at the table, bright and awake. There was food on the table. Fruit and bread, but no sign of Lilissa. Berren stood in the doorway, and stared.
‘Are you…’ He didn’t know what to say.
‘Am I what, boy?’ The thief-taker’s face was clouded. He looked angry and troubled. Carefully, Berren put down the buckets of river water just inside the door. Outside, the children had stopped their game. He could feel their eyes on his back.
‘We ran away into The Maze and there were mudlarks and everything. We hid in this place I know. And then we came back and you weren’t here.’ He wondered whether he should say anything about One-Thumb and the Harbour Men.
Master Sy looked at him. Looked through him, as though looking at something that was inside Berren that neither of them had ever seen before. ‘I was careless, lad. I got cut. I should never have fought four at once. That’s always too many, no matter how many tricks you know. Best you know that.’
Berren nodded. This was more like it. Four men! Four men with swords! He’d fought them and he’d nearly won. Had won. Like in the alley but even better. ‘I went to get water. When I was coming back, I saw you. You came out of the house on the river docks. The one where Garrent said not to go. That why you were there? Where’s Lilissa?’
‘The House of Cats and Gulls.’ The thief-taker laughed, but his face was cold and unfriendly. ‘Funny place to wake up. But if I hadn’t then I would have gone there anyway to find out why I wasn’t dead.’ He lifted his shirt. In the hollow of his arm was a livid scar, as long and as thick as a finger. ‘They didn’t just cut me, boy. They good as killed me. And Lilissa’s gone home, boy. Where she should be, back with her fishmonger’s son and well away from the likes of us.’
Berren stared at the scar. That was from last night?
‘Well? Do you like the rain so much, boy, or are you coming in?’
‘The witch-doctor did that?’
Master Sy rolled his eyes. ‘Witch-doctor? Is that what they’ve told you he is?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll take you to him someday. But no, a snuffer did that. One of them touched me, and badly. Saffran healed a wound that would likely have killed me.’ He straightened his shirt, sat down at the table and gestured to the seat next to him. ‘You want to know about me and the witch-doctor on the docks? Then come in and break some bread with me. I’ll tell you about where we come from. And after that we have work to do.’
Berren looked at his feet. ‘I took your purse to go and buy some food.’ He showed Master Sy the purse, and then the little bag of spice cakes he’d bought on Godsway for him and Lilissa to eat.
‘Well now you can give it back to me. Besides, as you see, I have another. So that being the case, come here and sit down. Do it now.’ He had steel in his voice this time.
Berren walked in, closed the door behind him and sat at the table with Master Sy.
‘Do you remember, when I first brought you back here, I told you that someone had stolen something from me a long time ago? You asked me what had happened to them, and I said that nothing had happened. Nothing at all. Do you remember that?’
Berren nodded. Behind him, someone shouted something out of a window. The children in the yard yelled and cursed back and then ran away. Everything went quiet.
‘They stole my family from me, Berren. They stole my family and my kingdom.’
Berren stared in disbelief. ‘They stole a kingdom?’ That seemed impossible. How could a…
‘How could a poor thief-taker in a city like Deephaven have once been a king? Is that what you’re thinking?’ Master Sy laughed, bitterly. ‘Yes, indeed. How could he? Well I was never a king, Berren. But I was the eldest bastard son of one.’ The thief-taker picked up a knife and cut a strange-looking fruit in two. Red juice ran down his fingers and then his chin as he bit into one half. The other half he put on a wooden plate and pushed it along the table. ‘Dragonfruit. Don’t suppose you’ve ever had one of these before?’
‘No.’
‘Well you’d best have one now. You might not get another chance and they’re not to be missed. They grow them in the south and ship them up the coast. They don’t reach the markets in Deephaven all that often. Usually they go straight to the tables up on The Peak, or else they go down the river to Varr.’ He shrugged. ‘There must have been a good harvest this year. Food for princes, this. It’s bruised and past its best, but still.’ He took another bite. ‘What do you want, lad? Had enough of thief-taking now you’ve seen the nasty side of it? You want to go back to your Master Hatchet?’
‘No.’ Berren shook his head. ‘I can’t. They’d kill me. And…’ he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Even if I could, I thought about it and I don’t want to.’ The three men in the alley, the Bloody Dag’s mudlarks, now the snuffers on the Avenue of Emperors. That’s what he wanted. To be like that. Deadly.
‘No, I didn’t think so.’ Master Sy stabbed the knife into the wooden table. For a moment, Berren felt a tremor of doubt, a little voice that told him to run, run away now, that that was the best thing to do. But it was only a little voice, half lost in a crowd. Swords. He wanted to learn swords. A hundred other things, too, but mostly swords. He wanted to be someone who could face down four men in a street and be the one who walked away. And the only person who could ever give him that was sitting down in front of him, offering him the fruit of princes. The thief- taker pushed the plate to him. Berren eyed it hungrily. He could smell its juices, sweet and sharp both at once.
‘I was born in a city called Tethis. You won’t have heard of it.’ Master Sy chuckled. ‘Kasmin and your witch- doctor Saffran Kuy are probably the only others in Deephaven who have. Tethis had a king. Still does, I suppose. We and the other Small Kingdoms were vassals of the sun-king, but we were so small and so far away that no one much cared about us. I doubt he even knew we existed.’ He laughed again, sad, lost in memories. ‘We used to fight each other a lot. Mercenary armies, since none of us could afford one of our own. And only in the summer months, between planting and harvest. We were all so gods-damned poor. Must seem strange to you, living in this empire of yours, with an emperor grand enough to rival the sun-king himself, and this his second greatest city. Look across the river, over at the mudlarks. That was our world. We didn’t even have any temples, any priests, not any worth speaking of. But still, it was my kingdom, and I was a prince and I lived in a palace, even if it wasn’t a grand one.’ He looked at Berren and then looked at the dragonfruit. ‘I’ve never had one of these before either, but I’m told the air does something to them. After a few minutes they go bland and sour. It’s like eating mulched paper. So are you going to eat that or not?’
Berren picked up the fruit and sniffed it. It was the best thing he’d ever smelled.
Which made him think of the perfume seller on Market Square, and his look of disdain as Berren had asked how much a vial of his Servin Lily scent would cost. He bit into the red flesh of the fruit and couldn’t help smile as the flavours of spring and flowers and all the passions he’d ever known blossomed inside his mouth. Deadly. Deadly and
