The Lies of Locke Lamora - By Scott Lynch Page 0,93

had audacious plans, but I’m not entirely sure you’ve had a brilliant one yet.”

“This is the one, then. Honest. But I need those names.”

“If it’s so, it’s so.” Chains leaned backward and stretched, grunting in satisfaction as his back creaked and popped. “I’ll get them for you tonight.”

“And I’ll need some money.”

“Ah. Well, I expected that. Take what you need from the vault and mark it on the ledger. Screw around with it, though…”

“I know. Lead ingots; screaming; death.”

“Something like that. You’re a little on the small side, but I suppose Jessaline might learn a thing or two from your corpse anyway.”

4

PENANCE DAY was the traditional day for hangings in Camorr. Each week a sullen handful of prisoners would be trotted out from the Palace of Patience, priests and guards surrounding them. Noon was the hour of the drop.

At the eighth hour of the morning, when the functionaries in the courtyard of the Palace threw open their wooden shutters and settled in for a long day of saying “fuck off in the name of the duke” to all comers, three robed initiates of Perelandro wheeled a narrow wooden pull-cart into the courtyard. The smallest of the three made his way over to the first available clerk; his thin little face barely topped the forward edge of the clerk’s booth.

“Well, this is odd,” said the clerk, a woman of late middle years, shaped something like a bag of potatoes but perhaps not quite as warm or sympathetic. “Help you with something?”

“There’s a man being hanged,” said Locke. “Noon today.”

“You don’t say. Here I thought it was a state secret.”

“His name’s Antrim. Antrim One-Hand, they call him. He’s got—”

“One hand. Yes, he drops today. Fire-setting, theft, dealing with slavers. Charming man.”

“I was going to say that he had a wife,” said Locke. “She has business. About him.”

“Look, the time for appeals is past. Saris, Festal, and Tathris sealed the death warrant. Antrim One-Hand belongs to Morgante now, and then to Aza Guilla. Not even one of the Beggar God’s cute little sprats can help him at this point.”

“I know,” said Locke. “I don’t want him spared. His wife doesn’t care if he gets hanged. I’m here about the body.”

“Really?” Genuine curiosity flickered in the clerk’s eyes for the first time. “Now that is odd. What about the body?”

“His wife knows he deserves to get hanged, but she wants him to get a fairer chance. You know, with the Lady of the Long Silence. So she’s paid for us to take the body and put it in our temple. So we can burn candles and pray for intercession in Perelandro’s name for three days and nights. We’ll bury him after that.”

“Well now,” said the clerk. “The corpses usually get cut down after an hour and tossed into holes on the Beggar’s Barrow. More than they deserve, but it’s tidy. We don’t usually just go handing them out to anyone who wants one.”

“I know. My master cannot see, or leave our temple, or else he’d be here to explain himself. But we’re all he has. I’m supposed to say that he knows this is making trouble for you.” Locke’s little hand appeared over the edge of the booth, and when it withdrew a small leather purse was sitting on the clerk’s counting-board.

“That’s very considerate of him. We all know how devoted old Father Chains is.” The clerk swept the purse behind her counter and gave it a shake; it jingled, and she grunted. “Still a bit of a problem, though.”

“My master would be grateful for any help you could give us.” Another purse appeared on the counter, and the clerk actually broke a smile.

“It’s within the realm of possibility,” she said. “Not quite certain yet, of course.”

Locke conjured a third purse, and the clerk nodded. “I’ll speak to the Masters of the Ropes, little one.”

“We even brought our own cart,” said Locke. “We don’t want to be any trouble.”

“I’m sure you won’t be.” Her demeanor softened for just a moment. “I didn’t mean ill by what I said about the Beggar God, boy.”

“I didn’t take it ill, madam. After all, it’s what we do.” He favored her with what he thought was his most endearing little grin. “Did you not give me what I asked for because I begged, simply out of the goodness of your own heart, with no coin involved?”

“Why, of course I did.” She actually winked at him.

“Twenty years of health to you and your children,” Locke said, bowing and briefly