The Broken Eye
Page 29
How awful could it be?
She didn’t want to think about that. She went to her room—Kip’s room—quickly. She hesitated in front of the door, then, figuring that Master Sharp could kill her quickly, invisibly, and without leaving a trace no matter what she did, she opened the door.
Master Sharp was seated on her bed, legs crossed daintily, hands folded in his lap. He favored her with a large, beautiful, false smile. “There’s a ship docking within an hour. It’s called the Red Gull, from Green Haven. There’s a man aboard, a mund, Dravus Weir, distinctive red and yellow and green hat. He’ll be carrying a bundle of papers. Maybe in a messenger case, silver scrollwork on the ends. But maybe not.”
“You know I’m red-green color-blind. And if the papers aren’t in a case, I won’t be able to see them regardless,” Teia said. “You know—”
“I’m well aware of your limitations. I’m trying to figure out your abilities,” Master Sharp said. “You’ll be expected to … relieve him of those papers before he makes it to the Blood Forest ambassador’s residence. Dravus Weir is a spy, so he’ll be on his guard. Whatever happens, you are not to let him identify you. I’ll trade you those papers for your papers. You understand? Your freedom, for one little theft.”
Of course she did. She’d been dreading this task for—“Did you say one hour?” she asked. It would take her that long just to get there.
He smiled his selachian smile.
“Get out,” she ordered.
“Pardon?”
“I have to change. I’m not going in nunk’s clothes. Now. I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
He slapped her heavily, knocking her down. “Remember who gives the orders here, caleen. You can show respect, or you can be taught it.”
Teia stood on shaky legs, fists clenched. Time’s wasting, Teia.
She shucked off her gray inductee’s trousers and tunic and stared death and vengeance at Master Sharp as she pulled on her discipula’s garb. It would stand out less than the inductee’s clothes, but still more than she would have liked. Unfortunately, she wasn’t rich enough to have more than two changes of clothes.
Master Sharp merely watched her passively. “What’s the vial you wear? Oil? Perfume?”
“It’s nothing.”
He let her get away with it. “I’ll be in front of the Crossroads tavern. Two hours.”
In minutes, Adrasteia was moving quickly through the crowded afternoon streets of Big Jasper, blotting out fear with action. Once there was a gang that saw her, but she managed to lose them. It took another few minutes from her, though. Once she thought she saw Kip, stepping out of a tiny shop in a cross alley, but it was just her imagination—or her guilty conscience.
This one thing, and she was free.
It wouldn’t be real freedom, of course. She’d be snared in something worse. But getting her papers would mean that ownership of her couldn’t be passed around. She’d be a slave still, but only informally a slave to Master Sharp. Freeing herself from one man would be a hundred times easier than freeing herself from all the laws of the satrapies.
I’m a slave, not a fool.
But would she rather be tied to Master Sharp, or to Mistress Aglaia Crassos? Murder Sharp was brutal, but Aglaia was respectable. He hid in the shadows; she hid in the light. Teia would take her chances with shadows. Do the job, Teia. You’ll need all your wits for this one.
It was impossible. She had no time to access her tools, her disguises. She hadn’t studied the man she was supposed to rob. There was more going on here. It could be that Murder Sharp simply didn’t know that he was asking the impossible, or it could be more.
It was more. Teia was sure of it. But if it was more, what could it be? Was he setting her up to fail? Why?
Still thinking. Time for that later. The first thing Teia needed to do was make sure she succeeded. While the drab white dress of a Chromeria student with her hair pulled back by her gold-colored scarf was less conspicuous than her inductee’s garb, it still wasn’t good enough.
It was ten blocks before she found what she was looking for: a boy, perhaps twelve years old—younger was important—out in front of a shop, sweeping the area clean, alone, hardworking, wearing an apprentice’s clothing and a hat with a wide brim, plain.
She put a little sway into her walk. He glanced up, stared at her, looked away shyly, then glanced again.
“Hi, handsome,” she said, walking straight up to him.
“Who?” he said, looking left and right. He blushed. “Me? Uh—”
She kissed him on the mouth, pulled his hat off, and slid her body up against him. His entire body locked up. She released him. “Thanks,” she said, putting his hat on her head.
His mouth hung open, but he was speechless.
She glanced back before she went around the corner, and blew him a kiss. He was holding one finger up, but he didn’t move. The broom had fallen to the paving stones at his feet, forgotten.
For the next two blocks, she jogged, just in case he came to his senses. Then she started scouting the laundry lines, looking for something her size. Laundry was supposed to only be dried in the heat of the day, so that the beams of light from the Thousand Stars wouldn’t be blocked if they were needed in the late afternoon or evening, but of course not everyone followed the rules. She had flexibility for what she stole, of course. She had a belt if the trousers she ended up taking were too large, and as long as the shirt or tunic wasn’t enormous, it could work. But baggy clothes could be sloppy, and if she had to run, she didn’t want trousers that would fall down around her ankles.
She slowed as she saw what she wanted. A boy’s trousers, and a tunic, together on a line, one story up, with a cart parked right underneath them. A girl perhaps six years old was holding the pony, keeping the cart while her father or mother was inside.
Teia broke into a jog and jumped up onto the back of the cart, then stepped up onto the edge of the bed like a cat walking a fence. She snatched the trousers and tunic, dropped to plant one foot on the driver’s seat, and rolled as she hit the street.
She rolled to her feet not five paces from the little girl.
Teia winked at her and smiled. Then she bowed. The child looked so shocked that Teia thought she might not say anything at all.
Then the little girl burst into tears.
Walking as quickly as she could, Teia hadn’t quite made the first corner when the little girl’s mother ran out to her. Mercifully, the child was so distraught she couldn’t explain that a woman had fallen from the sky. Teia made it away cleanly.
She avoided the main streets, preferring the slight possibility of crime to crowds. Then she ducked into a bakery’s doorway. This late in the day, they were closed, lanterns extinguished.
Teia pulled on the trousers under her dress, glanced up and down the street, and only saw a few women who didn’t seem to be paying attention, and shucked off her dress. She pulled on the tunic, folded the dress quickly, belted trousers and tunic, bloused everything so it was baggy. Put on the hat, tucked her hair up into it, then stuffed the folded dress down to her stomach inside the tunic. The belt held it in place, and it helped flatten out what little curves she had.
It was depressing how little she had to do to make herself look like a boy.
She didn’t want to think about that. She went to her room—Kip’s room—quickly. She hesitated in front of the door, then, figuring that Master Sharp could kill her quickly, invisibly, and without leaving a trace no matter what she did, she opened the door.
Master Sharp was seated on her bed, legs crossed daintily, hands folded in his lap. He favored her with a large, beautiful, false smile. “There’s a ship docking within an hour. It’s called the Red Gull, from Green Haven. There’s a man aboard, a mund, Dravus Weir, distinctive red and yellow and green hat. He’ll be carrying a bundle of papers. Maybe in a messenger case, silver scrollwork on the ends. But maybe not.”
“You know I’m red-green color-blind. And if the papers aren’t in a case, I won’t be able to see them regardless,” Teia said. “You know—”
“I’m well aware of your limitations. I’m trying to figure out your abilities,” Master Sharp said. “You’ll be expected to … relieve him of those papers before he makes it to the Blood Forest ambassador’s residence. Dravus Weir is a spy, so he’ll be on his guard. Whatever happens, you are not to let him identify you. I’ll trade you those papers for your papers. You understand? Your freedom, for one little theft.”
Of course she did. She’d been dreading this task for—“Did you say one hour?” she asked. It would take her that long just to get there.
He smiled his selachian smile.
“Get out,” she ordered.
“Pardon?”
“I have to change. I’m not going in nunk’s clothes. Now. I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
He slapped her heavily, knocking her down. “Remember who gives the orders here, caleen. You can show respect, or you can be taught it.”
Teia stood on shaky legs, fists clenched. Time’s wasting, Teia.
She shucked off her gray inductee’s trousers and tunic and stared death and vengeance at Master Sharp as she pulled on her discipula’s garb. It would stand out less than the inductee’s clothes, but still more than she would have liked. Unfortunately, she wasn’t rich enough to have more than two changes of clothes.
Master Sharp merely watched her passively. “What’s the vial you wear? Oil? Perfume?”
“It’s nothing.”
He let her get away with it. “I’ll be in front of the Crossroads tavern. Two hours.”
In minutes, Adrasteia was moving quickly through the crowded afternoon streets of Big Jasper, blotting out fear with action. Once there was a gang that saw her, but she managed to lose them. It took another few minutes from her, though. Once she thought she saw Kip, stepping out of a tiny shop in a cross alley, but it was just her imagination—or her guilty conscience.
This one thing, and she was free.
It wouldn’t be real freedom, of course. She’d be snared in something worse. But getting her papers would mean that ownership of her couldn’t be passed around. She’d be a slave still, but only informally a slave to Master Sharp. Freeing herself from one man would be a hundred times easier than freeing herself from all the laws of the satrapies.
I’m a slave, not a fool.
But would she rather be tied to Master Sharp, or to Mistress Aglaia Crassos? Murder Sharp was brutal, but Aglaia was respectable. He hid in the shadows; she hid in the light. Teia would take her chances with shadows. Do the job, Teia. You’ll need all your wits for this one.
It was impossible. She had no time to access her tools, her disguises. She hadn’t studied the man she was supposed to rob. There was more going on here. It could be that Murder Sharp simply didn’t know that he was asking the impossible, or it could be more.
It was more. Teia was sure of it. But if it was more, what could it be? Was he setting her up to fail? Why?
Still thinking. Time for that later. The first thing Teia needed to do was make sure she succeeded. While the drab white dress of a Chromeria student with her hair pulled back by her gold-colored scarf was less conspicuous than her inductee’s garb, it still wasn’t good enough.
It was ten blocks before she found what she was looking for: a boy, perhaps twelve years old—younger was important—out in front of a shop, sweeping the area clean, alone, hardworking, wearing an apprentice’s clothing and a hat with a wide brim, plain.
She put a little sway into her walk. He glanced up, stared at her, looked away shyly, then glanced again.
“Hi, handsome,” she said, walking straight up to him.
“Who?” he said, looking left and right. He blushed. “Me? Uh—”
She kissed him on the mouth, pulled his hat off, and slid her body up against him. His entire body locked up. She released him. “Thanks,” she said, putting his hat on her head.
His mouth hung open, but he was speechless.
She glanced back before she went around the corner, and blew him a kiss. He was holding one finger up, but he didn’t move. The broom had fallen to the paving stones at his feet, forgotten.
For the next two blocks, she jogged, just in case he came to his senses. Then she started scouting the laundry lines, looking for something her size. Laundry was supposed to only be dried in the heat of the day, so that the beams of light from the Thousand Stars wouldn’t be blocked if they were needed in the late afternoon or evening, but of course not everyone followed the rules. She had flexibility for what she stole, of course. She had a belt if the trousers she ended up taking were too large, and as long as the shirt or tunic wasn’t enormous, it could work. But baggy clothes could be sloppy, and if she had to run, she didn’t want trousers that would fall down around her ankles.
She slowed as she saw what she wanted. A boy’s trousers, and a tunic, together on a line, one story up, with a cart parked right underneath them. A girl perhaps six years old was holding the pony, keeping the cart while her father or mother was inside.
Teia broke into a jog and jumped up onto the back of the cart, then stepped up onto the edge of the bed like a cat walking a fence. She snatched the trousers and tunic, dropped to plant one foot on the driver’s seat, and rolled as she hit the street.
She rolled to her feet not five paces from the little girl.
Teia winked at her and smiled. Then she bowed. The child looked so shocked that Teia thought she might not say anything at all.
Then the little girl burst into tears.
Walking as quickly as she could, Teia hadn’t quite made the first corner when the little girl’s mother ran out to her. Mercifully, the child was so distraught she couldn’t explain that a woman had fallen from the sky. Teia made it away cleanly.
She avoided the main streets, preferring the slight possibility of crime to crowds. Then she ducked into a bakery’s doorway. This late in the day, they were closed, lanterns extinguished.
Teia pulled on the trousers under her dress, glanced up and down the street, and only saw a few women who didn’t seem to be paying attention, and shucked off her dress. She pulled on the tunic, folded the dress quickly, belted trousers and tunic, bloused everything so it was baggy. Put on the hat, tucked her hair up into it, then stuffed the folded dress down to her stomach inside the tunic. The belt held it in place, and it helped flatten out what little curves she had.
It was depressing how little she had to do to make herself look like a boy.
