The gigantic cook sniffed his affront, grumbled, ‘Trust him to find a decent job.’
The server pointed back to the kitchens and the huge fellow – Urko, apparently – clenched his thick leather apron in his fists until it creaked. He scowled at the woman then drew a hand down his face, snorting through his nostrils like a bull. ‘Well … I got onion soup. Offer him that.’ And he stomped back through the doors.
Dancer could only shake his head at the state of the hired help here. He supposed it was difficult to find quality labour on the island. He motioned to the door. ‘Let’s try another place.’
Wu gave a strange high laugh, almost nervous, and Dancer cocked an eye at him, suspicious. ‘Change of management,’ Wu explained, gesturing to encompass the establishment. ‘Be patient.’
Whatever. Dancer tried a sip of the beer and found it far too watery. He made a sour face. ‘You said that you had news?’
‘Ah! Yes … news.’ Wu fluttered his hands on the table, the wrinkled knotted hands of an ancient as the mage was still maintaining his appearance of an old man, but his motions were quick and precise; not those of a doddering oldster. Dancer decided he’d have to coach him on that. ‘So,’ Wu continued, still brushing his hands across the tabletop, ‘yes. News. Well … while you were out reconnoitring the waterfront, I happened to fall into conversation with the owner of this fine establishment…’
Seeing that this was going nowhere fast, Dancer forced himself to take another sip of the foul beer. ‘Yes? And you killed him for gross incompetence?’
This raised a weak laugh that faded into a long drawn out coughing fit. ‘Well, actually, no. I found that he was in a feverish hurry to sell…’
Dancer set down the tankard. Oh, no. Tell me no. ‘What,’ he began, calmly, ‘have you done?’
Wu raised his hands. ‘As I was saying – we need a base of operations for our plans. This location is ideal. Close to the waterfront, great for smuggling…’
Dancer pressed his palm to his forehead. Mustn’t lose it. ‘What,’ he began again, through clenched teeth, ‘have you done?’
Wu opened his hands wide. ‘Our partnership has entered a new phase. We’ve gone into business together.’
Dancer somehow found himself on his feet, towering over Wu, his hands flat on the table. ‘You bought this rat-hole?’
Wu’s dark ferret eyes darted left and right. ‘So it would seem.’
Through his rage, Dancer sensed a presence close to him and snapped his gaze aside – it was the serving woman. How did she get so close?
But her sullen attention was on Wu, ignoring him. She flicked a piece of dirt from the table. ‘You want to see your offices now?’
Wu brightened immediately. ‘Why, that would be excellent! Thank you … ah…’
‘Surly,’ the woman supplied, with a tired curl of a lip.
‘Ah, yes. Excellent. Thank you … Surly.’
She motioned to the stairs and Wu bustled off. His walking cane was now in his hand, tapping as he went. Dancer decided that the privacy of an office would be a better place for their discussion, in case he accidentally strangled the wretched fellow, and so he followed, but not before he noted the woman’s hands: hardened and calloused. The hands of a servitor? No, not the cracked and reddened skin of washing and scouring. Rather, skin toughened and scarred. Hands like his.
The office stood over the common room and here he found Wu waving a cloud of dust from his face after pushing a heap of papers off a chair. The mage gave a nervous laugh. ‘A quick whip-round and it’ll be decent in no time.’
Dancer closed the door behind him and pressed his back to it. ‘What have you done?’
Wu turned, blinking innocently. ‘What? Why, acquired a property at a fantastic price!’
‘Did you just spend all our remaining—’ He snapped up a hand. ‘Wait! I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is why.’
‘Hmmm?’ Wu was now inspecting the desk, which was heaped high with garbage and plates of dried crusted food. He poked his walking stick at the mess. ‘Why what?’
Dancer sighed, raised his suffering gaze to the ceiling. ‘Why did you purchase this place?’
Wu blinked again. ‘Ah, well, actually the price was a steal because the fellow thought the Napan employees were conspiring to kill him and take the business. Why he should think that I have no idea…’ Dancer just glared until Wu’s brows rose in understanding. ‘Ah!’ Swinging the walking stick, he brushed aside all the clutter on the desk, sending papers, glassware, tin plates and old candles crashing to the floor. Satisfied, he sat behind the expanse of wine-stained dark wood and gestured to the empty surface. ‘There we are. You see? One must sweep aside the old before building anew.’
Dancer crossed his arms. Okay. ‘Why here?’
‘The moment I set foot on this island I felt it.’ Wu raised his hands, brushing his thumbs and forefingers together. ‘Shadow. It’s close. This place has some sort of affinity.’
Dancer let his arms fall. ‘So you say,’ and he added, half muttering, ‘if only to justify this stupid purchase.’ He crossed to the one window. It overlooked a side street of ancient wood and stone buildings, all muted grey and dingy in a thin misting rain. He turned on Wu. ‘But we’re still only two. What’s the plan?’
The lad was undaunted. He raised his hands once again. ‘Why, as before. We take over the town.’
Great. As before … when we failed. Dancer drew breath to tear into the fool but silenced himself as he detected someone on the landing outside the door. A knock sounded. Wu cleared his throat and steepled his fingers across his stomach, arranging his features into a stern frown.
‘Ah! Yes? Do come in.’
The door swung inward but no one entered. Intrigued, Dancer leaned forward to peer out. It was the serving woman, Surly. The young Napan was surveying the room before entering and Dancer smiled to himself: More than a mere servitor. For certain.
She took one step in – still not clearing the door – and eyed Wu as if she’d found a particularly annoying mess. ‘Do you have staff of your own you’ll be bringing in?’
Wu’s tiny eyes darted right and left. ‘Ah … no.’
‘So, we’ll be staying on, then?’
‘For the foreseeable future.’
‘Good.’
‘Good?’
The young woman’s expression twisted into even more of a scowl. ‘Work’s hard to come by on this damned island.’
Wu leaned forward to set his chin on a fist, cocking his head. ‘I should think you and your, ah, piratical friends should easily find employment with any one of the crews that sail out of this island.’
The lips curled up into a humourless half-smile. ‘Don’t know much about the history between Nap and Malaz, do you?’
‘You’re rivals,’ Dancer supplied. Surly gave him a reserved nod. ‘You’ve fought for control of the southern seas for hundreds of years.’
‘That’s right. They won’t have us. And in any case,’ and she raised her chin, her gaze suddenly fierce, ‘we work for ourselves.’