The Lies of Locke Lamora - By Lynch, Scott Page 0,97
for what happened in the Videnza,” said Galdo.
“It wasn’t a burning tavern, Benefactor’s own truth,” said Locke.
“What,” said Chains, speaking slowly as though to a misbehaving pet, “did you boys do with the corpse before you stashed it in the temple?”
“Made money.” Locke tossed the merchant’s donated purse into the kettle, where it hit with a heavy clang. “Twenty-three solons three, to be precise.”
“And a basket of oranges,” said Calo.
“Plus a packet of candles,” added Galdo, “two loaves of black pepper bread, a wax carton of small beer, and some glow-globes.”
Chains was silent for a moment, and then he actually peeked down into the kettle, pretending to readjust his blindfold by raising it just a bit at the bottom. Calo and Galdo began to confide the roughest outline of the scheme Locke had prepared and executed with their help, giggling as they did so.
“Bugger me bloody with a boathook,” Chains said when they finished. “I don’t recall telling you that your leash was slipped enough for fucking street theater, Locke.”
“We had to get our money back somehow,” said Locke. “Cost us fifteen silvers to get the body from the Palace of Patience. Now we’re up some, plus candles and bread and beer.”
“Oranges,” said Calo.
“Glow-globes,” said Galdo. “Don’t forget those; they’re pretty.”
“Crooked Warden,” said Chains. “Just this morning I was suffering from the delusion that I was handing out the educations here.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments after that, while the sun settled into its downward arc in the west and long shadows began to creep across the face of the city.
“Well, what the hell.” Chains rattled his manacles a few times to keep up his circulation. “I’ll take back what I gave you to spend. Of the extra, Calo, you and Galdo can have a silver apiece to do as you please. Locke, you can have the rest to put toward your…dues. It was fairly stolen.”
At that moment, a well-dressed man in a forest-green coat and a four-cornered hat walked up to the temple steps. He threw a handful of coins into the kettle; they sounded like mingled silver and copper as they clattered. The man tipped his hat to the three boys and said, “I’m from the Videnza. I want you to know that I’m furious about what happened.”
“One hundred years of health for you and your children,” said Locke, “and the blessings of the Lord of the Overlooked.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE GRAY KING
1
“YOU SEEM TO be spending a great deal of our money very quickly, Lukas,” said Doña Sofia Salvara.
“Circumstance has blessed us, Doña Sofia.” Locke gave a smile that was a measure of great triumph by Fehrwight standards, a tight-lipped little thing that might have been a grimace of pain from anyone else. “Everything is proceeding with the most agreeable speed. Ships and men and cargo, and soon all we’ll need to do is pack your wardrobe for a short voyage!”
“Indeed, indeed.” Were those dark circles under her eyes? Was there the slightest hint of wariness in her attitude toward him? She certainly wasn’t at ease. Locke made a mental note to avoid pushing her too far, too fast. It was a delicate dance, playing straight lines and smiles with someone who knew he was a mummer but didn’t know that he knew she knew.
With the slightest sigh, Doña Sofia pressed her personal sigil down into the warm blue wax at the bottom of the parchment she was contemplating. She added a few flowing lines of ink above the seal, her signature in the curving Therin script that had become something of a fad among literate nobles in the past few years. “If you say you require another four thousand today, another four thousand it must be.”
“I am most sincerely grateful, my lady.”
“Well, you’ll certainly pay for it soon enough,” she said. “Many times over, if our hopes play out.” At that she smiled, with genuine good humor that crinkled the edges of her eyes, and held out the fresh promissory note.
Oh-ho, thought Locke. Much better. The more in control the mark thinks they are, the more easily they respond to real control. Another one of Father Chains’ old maxims, proven in Locke’s experience too many times to count.
“Please give my warmest regards to your husband when he returns from his business in the city, my lady,” said Locke, taking the wax-sealed parchment in hand. “Now, I fear, I must go see some men about…payments that will not appear on any official ledger.”