Free The Two of Swords: Part 12 by K. J. Parker Page B

here,” he said. “No sign, I take it.”
    “No.”
    “Mphm. Look, if he’s not back by the time I leave, you’d better come with me. All right?”
    “Is that an order?”
    “Yes, I think so.” Corason hesitated, half in and half out of the doorway. “I don’t know your file very well, but I gather you steal things. Is that right?”
    Musen nodded.
    “Well, not while you’re with me, you don’t. Not unless I tell you to. Got that?”
    “Yes.”
    “Fine.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit off a hangnail. “I guess I’ll be the one who has to write to his damned brother,” he said. “It’s just one gloriously wonderful thing after another in the Service.”
    News. A drunk staggered out of a wine shop, tripped over the cobbles, grabbed at Musen’s arm, missed, crashed into Corason, flung his arms round his neck to keep from going over, and whispered in his ear that the courier known to be carrying Senza’s recall orders had passed through way station 26, paused only to change horses, ridden off at a hell of a lick, no sign of anybody following him.
    Corason spent most of the day writing letters, which he stuffed into hollowed-out bones he’d got from a butcher. Musen’s job was to dump the bones on the trash heap out back of the Nine Cardinal Virtues, which led to a misunderstanding with an overconscientious dog, during the course of which he damaged his right hand still further climbing a fence in a hurry.
    No sign of Axeo. Contacts and contacts of contacts in the kettlehats, the Watch, the prefecture and the subsection of the Works Office responsible for pulling dead bodies out of the river all confirmed that nobody answering that description had been seen, dead or alive – and Axeo would be hard to miss. Musen clearly remembered thinking, the first time he saw him, that here was the most handsome man he’d ever seen – not particularly tall; strongly built but perfectly proportioned; beautiful hands with long fingers; dark hair just shy of shoulder length; high cheek bones, quite a long face ending in a square chin, straight nose, clean-shaven, clear grey eyes, a strong mouth, that typical smile of mild amusement. True, he’d shown that he had the knack of making himself nondescript, practically invisible, but he only did that when he had to; he plainly enjoyed the slightly stunned look on people’s faces when they met him. It was a terrible burden, he used to protest, a real handicap for a man wanted by the authorities in sixty-seven provinces. But it should have made him easy to find, and they hadn’t found him.
    “I want to stay here,” Musen said. “Just in case he comes back. Then I’ll catch you up.”
    Corason burst out laughing. “You, all alone in the big city? Sorry, I don’t think so. Anyway, it’s not up to you, you’re under orders. You’ll do as you’re told.”
    “I’m staying here,” Musen said. “Just till he turns up again. Sorry.”
    Corason rolled his eyes. “Another one,” he said. “Fine. The only reason I’m going to let you stay is, I’m quite sure he’s not coming back – he’s dead, or arrested, or defected, or he’s been taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot, what-bloody-ever. What are you proposing to do for money, by the way? I can’t fund you, I’m short enough for myself as it is.”
    “I’ll manage.”
    “Yes, well. If you get caught managing, you’re not a craftsman and the Lodge has never heard of you,
capisce
? I’ll pass the word around before I go.”
    “I won’t get caught,” Musen said.
    “You realise, this’ll have to go in your file. It won’t do you any good.”
    Musen didn’t bother to react to that. It broke his heart to disobey the Lodge; but the Lodge had sold the silver pack to Glauca the emperor, and he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive something like that.
    Choris is the last place on earth where you’d expect it to snow; but it does happen, very occasionally, when cold winds from the north meet wet