Free Warlock's Shadow by Stephen Deas

monk?’ he asked, eyeing the serving girls as they walked past.
    ‘Then you’d be dead and the prince too most likely. Might as well ask if it was one of ours. A bad thief-taker.’
    ‘Don’t they all go bad, sooner or later?’ That’s what Master Sy used to tell him. Don’t trust any of the others. Too much temptation .
    The thief-taker glared at him. ‘Go on then, lad, who was it?’
    ‘Can’t be Master Mardan or Master Fennis. Too tall, both of them.’
    ‘Velgian’s worse with a blade than with those fearful rhymes of his.’ The thief-taker laughed. ‘Did you know he got mugged? He was down near the river docks on his way back from the River Gate the day after your little set-to at the Watchman’s Arms and he got jumped, right outside the House of Cats and Gulls. Couple of mudlarks. One of them thumped him in the face, the other one cut his purse and they left him there, sitting on his arse in the slime with nothing but a bloody nose to show for it.’ Master Sy shook his head. ‘Some thief-taker, eh? Tiarth isn’t in the city at the moment. I suppose there’s plenty of others though. Plenty of snuffers too.’ The Golden Cup was growing noisy. Even though the temple bells were still pealing, men were coming through the doors in a steady stream. Fat men, mostly, all of them dressed in rich clothes. For a moment, Berren forgot about Master Sy. He stared open-mouthed as one of them groped the serving girls and laughed to his friends. The girls put on a good show of being amused. Whether they meant it or not, Berren couldn’t tell.
    ‘Money, lad,’ hissed the thief-taker. ‘The guild-house is right next door. A few pious fellows go out across the square to the temple for midday prayers. Most of them come in here for Grim’s sweetmeats. They have riches, lad, more than you can dream. They can make you into a prince of the city or they can swat you away without even blinking. These are the ones who pay Justicar Kol, these men. We take their coin. Everyone does, one way or the other, even your precious prince. Watch them closely by all means, but do it with care.’
    Master Sy finished his tea and poured himself another. For a few minutes they watched the growing crowd in silence together. Now and then the thief-taker would point out a face and whisper a name. As the Golden Cup grew full, one of the serving girls slipped over and whispered in Master Sy’s ear. The thief-taker nodded. A moment after she went, he got to his feet.
    ‘Come on, lad. I don’t know what’s happened to Kol, but we don’t want to be late for your monks.’
    Berren frowned. He knew exactly how long noon prayers took and it was longer than this. He glanced down at the pastries still left on the table.
    ‘In your pockets, lad.’ They didn’t even go out the same way they’d come in; they slipped out the back as though they were servants.
    ‘She asked us to leave, didn’t she?’
    Master Sy didn’t answer, but once they were outside, he stopped. The look on his face when he turned was enough to make Berren take a step back.
    ‘The Golden Cup isn’t for us, lad. It’s for fat f–’ He took a deep breath. The anger fell into slow retreat. He seemed to reach for some different words but couldn’t find any. Eventually he simply shook his head. ‘Not for the likes of us. That’s all there is to it. Come on, lad. I don’t think we’ll be coming back.’

8
DRAGON-MONKS
     
    T hey walked around the back of the Golden Cup, through the alleys until they were on the edge of Deephaven Square again. Master Sy stopped near the temple gates where a man was selling sweet pancakes laced with honeyberries, yellow and round like the midday sun. Suncakes. The thief-taker bought a couple for each of them, took a mouthful and gave a satisfied belch. ‘Don’t suppose you ever get out from your lessons during the day, but these are the best suncakes in the city. Expensive, but the best.’
    Berren, who skipped prayers to eat one