“Good lord,” said Brenner. “You’re kidding. Is thisLordCaliban?”
“Yes,” said Slate.
“The one who—”
“Yes.”
“With the guards and the nuns—”
“Yes.”
Brenner grinned hugely. He had excellent teeth. “I take back everything I said, Slate, darlin’.”
“Shutup, Brenner,” said Slate, a well-polished phrase if Caliban had ever heard one. He wondered if they were lovers. They seemed more like siblings who did not entirely care for one another.
“Lord Caliban! Ha! You’ve got quite a set, girl. I always said.” A heavy hand fell on Caliban’s shoulder. The knight controlled a flinch.
“SirCaliban, actually,” he said. And when Brenner whooped again, “Or just Caliban.”
“You planning on killing our Slate some night on the road,SirCaliban?”
The knight smiled sourly. “Not if you’re closer.”
Apparently this was the right response. Brenner slapped him on the back and went back to his chair. “Excellent! At least we’ll all go to hell in good company.”
Caliban traded a brief, ironic glance with Slate. The question of why she was the one in charge of their little jaunt into death’s jaws had been answered.
She turned toward the door. “You can use my room. I’ll have them draw you a bath.”
The door closed behind her.
Silence filled up the room, broken by Brenner snickering to himself.
“What did she do?” asked Caliban, when he couldn’t take it any more.
“Do?” Brenner slung his legs over the arm of the chair again.
“You know. What crime…?” His hand moved toward the tattoo on his arm.
“Oh!” Brenner grinned again. “She works in documents, our Slate.”
“Documents?”
“Making them, taking them…She steals paperwork, and changes it.”
Caliban frowned. “Is there money in that?”
Brenner laughed, apparently at his ignorance. “A lot more than in jewels and murder, my good knight.” He leaned forward. “Say you’re a merchant with a rival, and you get wind that he’s about to get audited. You hire our dear Slate, and she goes in, takes their account books, makes some numbers dance up and down, puts them back, and presto! Your rival’s dragged up before the courts, you pay Slate a sizeable amount of money, and no one ever knows.”
“There’s a lot of that going on?”
Brenner shrugged. “There’s enough. Thieves with cutthroat accounting skills aren’t exactly common. Me, I just cut throats and skip the accounting bit.”
“How nice for you.”
“She steals other things, too. Land deeds, proofs of annulment—very popular with the nobility, annulments—quite a busy girl, our Slate. Seen her walk past jewelry boxes, straight for the filing cabinet every time. Quite a set, and I don’t say that lightly.” He grinned. “‘Course you know that. Ha! Sent her to get some dumb muscle, and she comes back with Lord Caliban, the mass murderer.”
I don’t think I like this man very much.
