Free Jimmy the Hand by Raymond E. Feist, S. M. Stirling

the
way out of the sewers and through a maze of back alleys, most sodden,
some clean, until he came to a fence of cedar posts set in stone. He
climbed it and stepped briefly onto a window ledge, then grasped a
hole left by a crumbling brick and hoisted himself up to where he
could step onto the window’s ledge. Balancing, he reached up to
grasp the eaves. He chinned himself up, his toes rinding the space in
the brickwork that allowed him to push himself upward until he could
wriggle onto the tiled roof.
    Then he silently
moved over so that Larry could climb up beside him; neither of them
was breathing hard, since the sky-routes were as familiar to them as
a staircase to the attic would be to a householder.
    They were on the
roof of a noisy dockside tavern—the tiles beneath them fairly
vibrated, as sailors the worse for wine made an attempt at song —
but they still made as little noise as possible, moving into the dark
shadow of a dormer window. Jimmy risked a quick glance in the window
and found the room unoccupied. He lay down on his back looking up at
the stars and listening for any sounds of pursuit. Larry sat quietly
beside him, apparently doing the same.
    ‘I think,’
Larry whispered at last, sounding very unhappy, ‘that the
Upright Man will call del Garza’s bluff.’
    Jimmy nodded,
then realizing it was too dark to be seen grunted in agreement.
    ‘The only
trouble is,’ the younger boy continued fiercely, ‘he
isn’t bluffing. Why should he? Nobody’s going to complain
if he hangs a dozen Mockers. A hundred even!’
    Jimmy shushed
him, for he’d nearly shouted that last. Larry muttered an
apology and Jimmy gave the boy’s arm a brief, sympathetic
punch. But he agreed with Larry’s sentiments. The acting
governor would put the Upright Man in the worst position possible
before he consented to negotiate, if he ever did.
    In the history
of the Thieves’ Guild, the Mockers and Grown had never sat down
across a table, but over the decades since the Guild had been
founded, the Mockers had reached accommodations with the Prince of
Krondor on several occasions. A word dropped by a merchant with
connections in court, a trader having business on both sides of the
law carrying a message, and from time to time a difficult situation
might be avoided. The Mockers gave up their own when caught dead to
rights; that was understood by every thief, basher and beggar. But
occasionally an overzealous constable had the wrong lad scheduled for
the gallows, or a harmless working girl or beggar arrested for a more
serious crime, and from time to time trades were arranged. More than
one Mocker was tossed out of gaol suddenly after the Sheriff of
Krondor got clear proof of innocence—usually the location of
the true malefactor, sometimes in hiding, at other times dead. On
other occasions a gang without the Upright Man’s sanction was
turned over to the Sheriff’s men, saving them the trouble of
arresting them.
    Larry said, ‘The
Upright Man’s not going to do anything, is he?’
    ‘Being in
the position he was in, I don’t think he can risk aggravating
the situation further. I think we’ve got nothing to offer del
Garza,’ said Jimmy. ‘As I see it, the only thing that
could make him happy would be to see Radburn return with the Princess
in tow. And as she’s halfway to Crydee with Prince Arutha by
now, I don’t imagine that’s going to happen. So, if he
hangs a lot of us, at least he can say he tried to do something when
Black Guy comes back. And if Radburn gets himself killed along the
way, then del Garza can put all the blame on him and make himself
look like he was trying. Our lads and lasses are in a bad position,
no doubt.’
    Jimmy fell
silent for a moment: he knew it wasn’t just a bad position, but
a fatal one. Finally, he said, ‘It’s up to us.’
    He heard a
stifled sob and saw the glitter of Larry’s eyes as the boy
turned toward him. ‘They might kill us,’ he warned.
    Jimmy chuckled.
‘Del