Vick didn’t like the thought that he’d ended up in that chair because of her. “No need to hurt him,” she wanted to say, and, “It’s me you want,” and all the bloody clichés, but that would’ve been good as telling them this stringy fool was a chink in her armour. So Vick didn’t even glance in his direction. She treated him like he was nothing. It was all she could do for him.
“Do you know the irony, Vick?” Vitari slowly sat forward, wrists on her knees and her long hands dangling. “We were there. In the Temple Square, waiting for Shudra, so we could kill him and pretend you’d done it.”
When you’ve nothing to add, stay silent.
“Then we saw you coming, and we thought, if you’re fool enough to kill him yourself… why not let you save us the trouble?”
More silence.
“But you weren’t there to kill him. You were there to pretend we’d tried, so you could pretend to save him. I watched the whole thing with a growing sense of annoyance, then a growing sense of admiration. It was very neat, wasn’t it?”
Shenkt’s only contribution was the soft scraping of his knife.
“Who was he? Your fake assassin? An actor?”
“And acrobat,” said Vick. “I found him in a circus.”
Vitari grinned. “Nice touch. Well, he can take a punch. You gave him quite the beating.”
“He was a bit upset about it.”
“So am I,” said Vitari, her grin vanishing. “The Grand Duchess Monzcarro is going to be quite irked. And believe me, you haven’t really seen irked until you’ve seen the Serpent of Talins irked. Do you think you’re clever?”
Vick tried to shift her throbbing shoulder into a more comfortable position, but there was none. “I’ve felt cleverer.”
“I think you’re clever. I don’t often find people who can get the better of me. When I do, I’d rather have them work for me than work against. Or dead, I guess. But dead would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”
Shenkt gave that grunt again, as though it was the same to him either way.
“So, how about it?” Vitari looked sideways at her. “After a new job? You could tell me secrets. What the Union’s planning, where they’re weak, where they’re strong, that kind of thing.”
Thump, thump, thump went the pulse in Vick’s head and the blood tickled at her scalp and it occurred to her this might be one of those turning points. Like in the mine, when she chose to run. Or in the camps, when she chose to tell. Or in Valbeck, when she chose to stay. Her mouth felt very dry all of a sudden.
“I’ve already got a job,” she said.
Vitari’s brows drew in. Grey brows, with just a few orange flecks in them. “I used to work for Old Sticks, you know. Back before he was Old Sticks. Young Sticks, would you say?”
Shenkt shrugged, as though he wouldn’t say much about anything, and pursed his lips, and blew a puff of dust from his carving.
“We were in Dagoska together, during the siege.” Vitari gave a faraway sigh. “So many happy memories. He’s a clever bastard. Fearless. And ruthless. Understands pain like no one else I ever knew. Lots to admire. But it’s not as though he really pulls the strings himself, is it?”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she was waiting for Vick to chime in. She’d a feeling there was some piece to this conversation she was missing. But when you’ve nothing to add, stay silent.
“Bayaz.” Shenkt pronounced both syllables crisply in Vick’s ear, and his breath felt chill, like the draught through a window on a winter evening, and it made the hairs on her neck rise almost painfully.
“The First of the Magi?” The idea of that self-satisfied old bastard pulling anyone’s strings seemed hard to credit.
“The Union has been his tool since he first brought it together in the days of Harod the Great.”
“You want ruthless?” Vitari gave a low whistle. “Should’ve seen Adua after he was done with it. He already has you dancing to his tune, I reckon.”
“I never even met the man.”
“And yet you came to Westport with more than a trunk full of clothes.” Vitari leaned closer, voice dropping to a breathy murmur. A voice for secrets. A voice for threats. “You came with Valint and Balk’s debts. With Valint and Balk’s trade rights. With Valint and Balk’s money.”
“What have Valint and Balk got to do with Bayaz?”
“They’re three names for the same thing,” murmured Shenkt.
Vitari slowly shook her head. “Dark company you keep.”
“Really?” Vick jerked her head towards Stryia’s most infamous assassin. “I heard he eats people.”
“As rarely as possible,” he said, without a trace of irony. “That bank chomps up dozens a day.”
“So how about it?” Vitari stuck her lips out in a pout. “Come work for me. Stand with the righteous. Or as close as the likes of us will get.”
Vick looked down at the ground, the blood thump, thump, thumping in her skull louder than ever. “I owe Glokta.” It surprised her, that she said it. It surprised her, how sure she sounded. “Reckon I’ll stick with him. Till the debt’s paid.”
Tallow made a high-pitched squeak into his gag. Vitari gave a long sigh. Shenkt issued that indifferent grunt one more time. Vick bared her teeth, back prickling, expecting the blade. Any moment now. The brittle silence stretched, almost unbearable.
“That’s interesting,” said Vitari.
“Mmm,” said Shenkt, slipping his carving away but keeping the knife out.
“You could’ve told me yes, then when you got back home, never followed through. Or tried to work me somehow. Someone clever as you would’ve seen that right off. So why not just tell me yes?”
Vick looked up at her. “Because I want you to believe me.”
“Huh.” Vitari smiled wide. Good teeth she had, for a woman her age. “I like that. Do you like that?”
“I do,” said Shenkt.
Vitari pulled out a slip of paper, and folded it, and pressed the fold sharp with her thumbnail, then she opened Vick’s shirt pocket, and slipped the paper inside, and gave it a pat. “Once you realise how things really are, go to this address. The barman there will have what you need.”
“He has what everyone needs,” said Shenkt.
“Until then, if I was you…” Vitari stood and strolled towards the door, wagging one long finger. “I wouldn’t come back to Styria.”
“We’re in Westport,” said Vick. “This is the Union.”
“For now.” Vitari drew the bolt and opened the door. Shenkt slipped away that little curved knife, pulled up his hood and walked out, humming faintly to himself, leaving nothing but a scattering of pale shavings on the boards.
It looked like Vick would live out the day after all.
“How do we get free?” she called, still trussed up tight.
Vitari paused, a long, black shape in the bright doorway. “You’re the clever one. You work it out.”
Late
“You are late, Rikke.”
She opened her eyes. Candle flames in the darkness. Hundreds of flames, like stars prickling a night sky. Or were they the ghosts where candles once burned, long ago?