Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Forty: An Ambush

A clerk came hurtling into the office just as Arlen was setting his fake signature to the fake contract he'd had drawn up. The counting house owner's greedy little eyes, which had been watching Arlen's hand with avaricious anticipation, flicked up in annoyance.

"What is it, lad?" he rumbled. "This had better be urgent."

The clerk was white-faced and trembling. "Devils, sir. Devils in the vaults."

Without a second glance at Arlen, the owner hurtled to the back of the store, yelling for the clerk to find the city watch. Arlen watched the young man go, hiding his smirk until the door had shut behind him. Then he got to his feet and limped to the door. No sense hanging around any later than was necessary; he certainly didn't want to be caught here when the guards came. No matter Mila's talent, he wasn't sure it would hold up to scrutiny that close. Let the owner be satisfied that Arlen had signed before he left. That way it might take him that bit longer to realise he'd been shafted.

He picked at the fancy coat he wore as he walked down a narrow side-street as swiftly as he could without looking suspicious or causing his leg to twinge. He couldn't wait to get free of it all, get back to his rooms and disconnect this dark-damned leg. No matter how careful he was or how much he padded it out, it still hurt just enough for him to be unable to ignore it.

It wasn't long before he heard the city guard arrive, which made him grin. They never learned to shut up; they always had to arrive shouting and making a general racket, even as it gave the men inside a warning and enough time to get away. Sometimes he wondered whether Harkenn ever had them trained properly, but it had worked in his favour many a time so he was hardly going to complain. A shadow in the corner of his eye made him look up from picking his way through some alley-side detritus, and then Jesper jumped down into it from the roof.

"You're not supposed to wander off without your escort," Jesper said, mock-reprovingly. "Night take me, Arl, you almost got me nicked."

Arlen grunted. He wasn't about to admit that he'd all but forgotten Jesper was dealing with his side of the job and that they were supposed to work together. He had disappeared from the meeting early on, on the pretence that he was visiting the privy, when in reality he was doing a lookout for Akiva, Raziel and Usk as they slipped in through a back window. In that time, Arlen had become too wrapped up in the first real job he'd done in months to remember that he was unable to work solo anymore.

He resisted scowling; he wanted to keep Jesper on side. This job was for his benefit, but they had helped him with it, so he had to give them a cut. If they weren't annoyed with him they'd accept a slightly smaller one, to give him more spending power at the workshop. He would have liked to have enough to not just pay for the leg but bribe the craftsman to work on his project alone for a while. But he forced that thought aside. Whatever he got from this job was what he had to work with, so he wouldn't get his hopes up too high.

"Where did you leave the carriage?" he muttered instead.

"It's circling round," Jesper said. "It'll meet us on Flint Street sometime in the next few minutes."

"Do you know how much they got?" he asked, as they left the alley and took another turn that would lead them to Flint Street. The whole neighbourhood was littered with moneylenders and counting houses. These were the lenders to the common people; the counting houses that served the rich were all in the Orthanian quarter, and a lot savvier to Devil cons, usually with far more reliable hired security. Tempting as it had been to attempt a theft on the houses with the filthiest amounts of wealth, he needed the money too badly to risk it failing. Or, Nict forbid, risk a bolt in the other leg, too.

"Not yet," Jesper said. "I was looking the other way, but it sounded heavy."

He grinned, clearly expecting a reaction from Arlen that he couldn't find the heart to give. He wasn't prone to giving into anxieties, but this was too important. In the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Marick's face when Arlen had defied him over this job. It could not fail; it had to be enough.