The Republic of Thieves #2

The Republic of Thieves #2 By Scott Lynch

III


FATAL HONESTY

“I never knew any more beautiful than you:

I have hunted you under my thoughts,

I have broken down under the wind

And into the roses looking for you.

I shall never find any

greater than you.”

—Carl Sandburg

from “The Great Hunt”





CHAPTER EIGHT


THE FIVE-YEAR GAME: INFINITE VARIATION

1

“SOMEONE’S GONNA RECOGNIZE us,” said Locke.

“We look like hell,” said Jean, practicing understatement at the master level. “Just two more travelers covered in dust and shit.”

“Volantyne must have returned by now. Sabetha’s got to have people watching the gates.” Locke tapped the side of his head. “You and I would.”

“That’s a generous appraisal of our foresight.”

It had been a hard four days back to Karthain. They’d looted the wagon and shoved it into a ravine on the second day, needing every scrap of speed they could coax out of their unyoked team. Lashain’s constables were no threat, but the previous occupant of the wagon could always hire mercenaries. There was no law on the long, ancient road between city-states; a column of dust rising rapidly in the sky behind them would probably have meant someone was going to die.

Now the city, finally in sight, had taunted them for half a day with the prospect of relative safety. They’d come up the coast road from the east, through hills and terraced farming villages, their bodies thoroughly punished by the seedy emergency saddles they’d filched from the wagon.

“Maybe you’re right, though,” said Jean. “If we’ve got no chance of hiding ourselves, we’ve got to rely on speed. We get one move, maybe, before she can respond.”

“Let’s go straight for her,” said Locke. His scowl shook little puffs of dust out of the creases of his road-grimed face.

“To do what?”

“Finish a conversation.”

“You in a hurry to get back to sea? I can handle a couple of her people at a time. She’s got more than a couple.”

“Taken care of,” said Locke. “I know a fellow who’ll be eager to help us past the guards.”

“You do?”

“Didn’t you notice that Vordratha favors tight breeches?”

“What the hell’s that got to do with anything?”

“Every little detail matters,” said Locke. “Just wait. It’ll be a fun surprise.”

“Well, shit,” said Jean. “It’s not like I’ve done anything especially smart in months. Why start now?”