wearing Watch blues. No, he had on a grey topcoat and a newish grey hat and black pants that more or less fit. He’d have been hard to spot in a crowd, but standing there on Cambrit all by himself in his scuffed, black Watch brogans he might as well have been in uniform.
I got out at the barbershop and ambled in and left by the back door after a nod to Curtis the barber. From there I made my way to the back door of my neighbors the Arwheat brothers, and after a short visit with them I headed to a middling fancy eatery downtown called the Brickworks.
Along the way I made another stop in an alley I won’t name. I counted a certain number of bricks up and a certain number across, and I pulled out the loose one and left a note behind it.
Gertriss and I have ways of keeping in touch, you see.
That done, I dined. I made sure to take a table in the middle of the place, I called my waiter by name, and surprised him with a generous tip. Same for the wine steward, the maître d', the busboy, and the doorman. In a fit of purely spontaneous generosity, I also bought a round of drinks for the bar and thus made a few new friends in the banking and haberdashery industries.
It was mid-afternoon by the time I made my way back to Cambrit. Mr. Bull’s stoop was empty aside from old Mr. Bull himself, who was worrying a wet section of sidewalk with his ancient, nearly strawless broom.
He responded to my wave and cheery “hello” with a bout of cackling. I unlocked my fancy new door and ushered a petulant Three-leg Cat inside. Then I waited for callers.
I didn’t wait long. Evis showed in a half-hour, swathed in black silk, his dead eyes shielded from the daylight by thick black spectacles. I got little more than grunts from him while he settled into a chair he’d pushed to the back, out of the light.
We smoked cigars in silence while traffic rattled past outside. By the time an iron-wheeled Watch tallboy rattled to the curb, we’d filled my office with enough thick grey smoke to actually make seeing out the door’s peep window impossible.
A meaty fist struck my door. “Open for the Watch!” shouted my new friend Captain Holder. “Open or we’ll break it down.”
Evis stubbed out his cigar and folded back into the shadows. I rose and unlocked my door, then opened it wide before stepping back out of yanking distance.
Captain Holder marched in, hand on his sword hilt, face beet red around eyes already going teary from the cigar smoke.
“What brings you here, Captain?” Carelessly, I puffed smoke directly into his face. “Care for a Lowland Sweet?”
That’s when Captain Holder, an officer of the law and a high-ranking Watchman, dared lay hands on me—a law-abiding citizen who did nothing but exhibit a generous nature concerning his excellent tobacco.
Evis moved, a silent shadow leaving brief wakes in the smoke.
Slam went my door, plunging my office into darkness.
Snick went the Captain’s Watch-issue shortsword as it was snatched from its scabbard.
Thunk went the blade as Evis buried the tip of it in my desk before returning to his seat and once again wrapping himself in silk and shadow.
The Captain gaped, his sword hand closing on air.
“I have half a dozen men right outside.”
“Only half a dozen?” I sniffed and looked down my nose. “I’d have thought a desperate criminal such as myself would have demanded a full dozen, at least.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead, he backed toward my door, his eyes on Evis, and then he yanked it open and bellowed through it.
“Your men were called to attend pressing matters elsewhere, Captain Holder,” said Evis from the dark. “Close the door. You are in no danger. But we do need to have a chat.”
I would have bet even money on the Captain bolting. But after a moment of staring out into the empty street, he straightened, uttered a single brief curse word, turned to face us, and closed the door.
“You’ve had a bad morning, Captain,” I said. I strolled
I got out at the barbershop and ambled in and left by the back door after a nod to Curtis the barber. From there I made my way to the back door of my neighbors the Arwheat brothers, and after a short visit with them I headed to a middling fancy eatery downtown called the Brickworks.
Along the way I made another stop in an alley I won’t name. I counted a certain number of bricks up and a certain number across, and I pulled out the loose one and left a note behind it.
Gertriss and I have ways of keeping in touch, you see.
That done, I dined. I made sure to take a table in the middle of the place, I called my waiter by name, and surprised him with a generous tip. Same for the wine steward, the maître d', the busboy, and the doorman. In a fit of purely spontaneous generosity, I also bought a round of drinks for the bar and thus made a few new friends in the banking and haberdashery industries.
It was mid-afternoon by the time I made my way back to Cambrit. Mr. Bull’s stoop was empty aside from old Mr. Bull himself, who was worrying a wet section of sidewalk with his ancient, nearly strawless broom.
He responded to my wave and cheery “hello” with a bout of cackling. I unlocked my fancy new door and ushered a petulant Three-leg Cat inside. Then I waited for callers.
I didn’t wait long. Evis showed in a half-hour, swathed in black silk, his dead eyes shielded from the daylight by thick black spectacles. I got little more than grunts from him while he settled into a chair he’d pushed to the back, out of the light.
We smoked cigars in silence while traffic rattled past outside. By the time an iron-wheeled Watch tallboy rattled to the curb, we’d filled my office with enough thick grey smoke to actually make seeing out the door’s peep window impossible.
A meaty fist struck my door. “Open for the Watch!” shouted my new friend Captain Holder. “Open or we’ll break it down.”
Evis stubbed out his cigar and folded back into the shadows. I rose and unlocked my door, then opened it wide before stepping back out of yanking distance.
Captain Holder marched in, hand on his sword hilt, face beet red around eyes already going teary from the cigar smoke.
“What brings you here, Captain?” Carelessly, I puffed smoke directly into his face. “Care for a Lowland Sweet?”
That’s when Captain Holder, an officer of the law and a high-ranking Watchman, dared lay hands on me—a law-abiding citizen who did nothing but exhibit a generous nature concerning his excellent tobacco.
Evis moved, a silent shadow leaving brief wakes in the smoke.
Slam went my door, plunging my office into darkness.
Snick went the Captain’s Watch-issue shortsword as it was snatched from its scabbard.
Thunk went the blade as Evis buried the tip of it in my desk before returning to his seat and once again wrapping himself in silk and shadow.
The Captain gaped, his sword hand closing on air.
“I have half a dozen men right outside.”
“Only half a dozen?” I sniffed and looked down my nose. “I’d have thought a desperate criminal such as myself would have demanded a full dozen, at least.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead, he backed toward my door, his eyes on Evis, and then he yanked it open and bellowed through it.
“Your men were called to attend pressing matters elsewhere, Captain Holder,” said Evis from the dark. “Close the door. You are in no danger. But we do need to have a chat.”
I would have bet even money on the Captain bolting. But after a moment of staring out into the empty street, he straightened, uttered a single brief curse word, turned to face us, and closed the door.
“You’ve had a bad morning, Captain,” I said. I strolled
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