The thief-taker chuckled. ‘Gods are for rich folk, lad? Do you think that’s true? Does the sun shine only on rich people? Does the moon? When it rains, does it only rain on the rich man’s field? Laws – now
they
might not be for all folk. But not gods. What do you smell?’ The thief-taker spoke softly, but the bare stone walls and floor picked up his words and carried them, made them unnaturally loud. Berren flinched.
‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. The smell was a strange one. It was the smell of rich people, mingled up with something else that he didn’t recognise.
The thief-taker’s lips curled with disdain, but his eyes glittered with desire. Berren backed away. This was a new Master Sy, one that he hadn’t seen while he’d been practising his bows and cleaning the floors. ‘Money. Power. Magic. They all flow through this city. Learn how and you’ll be the master and I’ll be the apprentice. That’s your first lesson, boy. Money, magic and power. They’re always behind everything.’ Then he chuckled. ‘On a Sun-day I’ll take you to the solar temple in Deephaven Square for the dawn prayers. Then you’ll see.’
There was a shuffling noise from the back end of the temple, and then a pointed cough. Master Sy’s head snapped round to look, as a disembodied voice spoke. ‘Well, well. Syannis the thief-taker prince.’
7
DEEPHAVEN
A
man emerged slowly out of the shadows. Berren couldn’t make out his face, but he moved like a grandfather.
Like an ancient
, Master Hatchet would have said. ‘Syannis, Syannis.’ The old man started nodding. ‘Yes, yes, well. I haven’t seen you here for a while. And then you come in the middle of the morning when we should be sleeping. But no, you didn’t wake me up. I don’t sleep all that much these days anyway.’ He seemed to notice Berren for the first time. ‘Oh. You brought a friend. Sorry, son. Path of the Moon, you see. Makes us more night people than most.’
‘Teacher Garrent.’ Master Sy, Berren realised, was now staring at his own feet. His fingers were steepled together. Almost in a gesture of prayer.
A devout who’s a thief-taker?
Berren grinned.
Who’d have thought?
‘The rude oik I have the shame to have brought before you is my apprentice.’ Master Sy still didn’t look up. Berren quickly bowed his head and tried to look cowed. The old priest shuffled over. Despite the din of Moon Street right outside the door, the only other sound Berren could hear was his own breathing.
The priest came and stood in front of him. He could feel the man’s wheezy breath on his hair. It smelled of fruit. Sweet fruit.
‘What’s your name, son?’
Berren knew better than to answer. ‘His name’s Berren, but “boy” is more than good enough for that one, Teacher,’ said Master Sy. The priest didn’t move. Berren could feel the old man’s eyes staring at the top of his head, as if he was trying to look inside. ‘I apologise for him. I’m surprised he’s even aware that the two paths exist. It’s not his fault, so please don’t be hard on him.’
‘There are four paths, Syannis, not two. You know that perfectly well.’
‘Two that deserve the name.’
The old priest gently put his hand on Berren’s head. Berren tensed, but the hand didn’t withdraw. ‘Berren, is it? Just Berren? No titles? Don’t worry. I’m not going to put a curse on you. Your master would have taken you to one of his many other friends for that. So, have you ever been into a moon temple before?’
Berren shook his head.
Never have, never want to again.
But for some reason that made the old priest smile. He took his hand away.
‘Can’t say I blame you. Who’d want to, eh? Nothing for you here I’m sure. Still, if you’re never coming back then I’d better get on and show you something while you’re here. Don’t be afraid, it has nothing to do with gods. It’s just a nice view, that’s all.’
Master Sy let out a slight groan. The priest snorted.
‘Oh, don’t pretend you brought him here for the sake of his spirit, Syannis. You just wanted to take him up the tower, didn’t you?’
‘I brought him here to further his education, Teacher. In all ways.’
‘Well we’ll start with the tower. It’s probably the best part of being here. Never mind all this other nonsense, eh, Berren? We have the tallest tower in the city outside The Peak and we’re quite proud of it. Come on!’
For an ancient, he moved with sudden speed and purpose, and Berren found himself hurrying along in the wake of the priest’s silver robes. Through the gloom he saw other shapes at the side of the temple but that’s all they were; then the priest was through another tiny door and heading up stairs that spiralled up a dim circular tower. Turn after turn, until Berren’s legs started to burn with the effort of climbing. The further he went, the more windows there were and the lighter it became. They were the sort of windows he was used to. No glass, no shutters. Simple open holes in the wall, narrow slits that let in the breeze and the city-smell of dead fish. They didn’t even have a curtain to pull across them. Then another half turn and light flooded the tower. Teacher Garrent was standing in a doorway which had no door, leaning against its arch of stones. Berren could see the roofs of the city beyond. The climb up the stairs had been long enough that even Master Sy was breathing harder than usual, yet the old man didn’t seem the least bit troubled. As Berren climbed the last step, the priest moved aside.
‘Have a care, young one.’
Berren stepped through the door. He was standing on a wooden balcony that ran around all four sides of the tower. It was about three feet wide and there was no fence, no rail, nothing at the edge except a long drop to the ground. He took a bold step into the sunlight and then looked down. The Godsway was perhaps a hundred feet below, straight down to a steady stream of carts and wagons that moved back and forth along it.
‘Not much fear in that one, Master Syannis,’ Berren heard.
‘No indeed, Teacher Garrent.’
‘A worry, don’t you think, in your line of work?’
‘There’s not much fear in this one either, Teacher, yet here I am.’
‘Yes, here you are. But I don’t remember you walking straight up to the edge and standing there, steady as a rock. Even you showed the odd errant sign of caution.’
Berren felt the wooden boards under his feet shifting up and down, telling him in their own jumbled whispers that the priest was coming up behind him. He couldn’t move though. The view of the city had him transfixed. He could see everything, everywhere. Right to the river docks and the estuary beyond. To the top of The Peak and the huge palaces up there with their towers, even taller than this one. Over the dome of the moon temple and across Craftsmen’s to the Sea Docks, to Shipwrights and Master Hatchet, to all the ships out at anchor with their forest of masts. Inland, where the city seemed to stretch on forever, slowly mingling with fields and streams and even clumps of trees until it finally gave up and shrunk down into two long lines of villages, one beside the river and the other beside the sea, both vanishing into the distance.
But most of all, he was looking down on it all. This, he knew, was where he wanted to be. Looking down on the world.
The old priest came and sat down beside him on the edge of the balcony, his spindly legs dangling in the soft breeze coming down from the river. ‘It’s not the highest place in the city by a long way. That’s over there.’ He pointed up towards The Peak. ‘The Overlord’s Palace and the solar temple both have towers that are exactly the same height. Did you know that? Because neither could stand to see the other have the tallest. After the war I sat here and watched them both build tower after tower, each one trying to be bigger than the other. As soon as one was finished, they’d start on something even grander. That was after Khrozus took the Sapphire Throne and called himself emperor, and he and the old Autarch down in Torpreah would have gone to war with each other all over again if they could. Well then The Butcher died and His Imperial Majesty took the throne and things got a bit easier for all of us. Now the Sunherald and the Overlord have towers that are exactly as tall as each other and they’re not allowed to build any more. And of course no one else is allowed to build one that’s taller.’
He felt the boards move again as Master Sy came to crouch behind them. ‘That’s this city, Berren. Tension and compromise. Show him the parts of the city he thinks he knows, Teacher.’
The priest laughed. ‘You’d be surprised what I see from up here, both of you. Now look the other way, son.’
Reluctantly Berren wrenched his eyes away from the jagged gleaming of The Peak.
‘We’re in the Craftsmen’s Quarter here. Follow my finger. See that straight road?’ Berren saw a long, dark gash between the mass of houses that sprawled away from the temple.
‘What? The really narrow one?’
‘Devil’s Row.’ The priest nodded. ‘Now follow it. Goes out across the Market District. Do you see where it stops? Do you see the wall? That’s the old city wall, that is. Can you see the line of it?’
Berren squinted. He thought maybe he could see something. A scar across the city, maybe. He tried to see where it went, but lost it somewhere behind the temples and towers of Market Square.
‘It’s hard, isn’t it? You can see it from up here, though. On the ground you’d hardly know it’s there, but it is. That’s the wall, young Berren. That’s what held Emperor Talsin back for the best part of six months. That wall and the Grand Canal on the other side. Changed the world, that wall did.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘Have you ever been to the Grand Canal?’
This time Berren nodded. He knew the name, although what he’d seen had been a foetid stinking mass of standing water close to the Great North Road and Pelean’s Gate. The south end of it ran off into the ground somewhere, he knew that. The north end just stopped. You could tell the people who lived next to it from their smell, even worse than the rest of the city. He wrinkled his nose at the memory.
‘Yes. Doesn’t seem much now, but I remember it choked with bodies. It used to go all the way from Pelean’s Gate down to the river.’ The priest laughed again. ‘You won’t remember that. Got covered with so many bridges during the siege that afterwards people just built on top of it. Canal’s still there though, underneath the streets and alleys. They say that if you have a good enough nose, you can follow its course from the smell.’ The priest winked. ‘Others might say that the smell is how you know you’re in the Canal District in the first place. The rest of the city past that? Talsin’s Forest? That’s what was really there. A whole forest chopped down and turned to mud by Talsin’s army. Look at it now . . .’ The old priest chuckled and shook his head. ‘What do you care, eh? You’re young. You don’t remember any of this. You come from up there, though. Somewhere up there. Somewhere down the wrong end of Reeper Hill and Shipwrights, I’m guessing.’
For a moment, Berren looked up, startled.
How does he know?
But that was easy. Master Sy could have told him days ago. He sighed and stifled a yawn.
‘Well, can’t see much of that from here. Pelean’s Gate and a bit of the hill behind it. Look the other way though. Down to the river and the Rich Docks. See where the gulls are circling right by the River Gate?’
Berren nodded. Right at the end of the docks, it must have been.
The priest’s voice dropped and his tone darkened. ‘Watch out for that house, young master Berren. A dark thing lives there and he knows your master. Keep away if you can.’ He grunted, and then gestured out across the river. ‘Now see the houses over there on the other bank?’ Berren peered in the direction the priest was pointing, over the top of the Rich Docks to the far side of the estuary. He could see something there, perhaps. A line on the other side of the water. If he was honest, his mind was still set on the towers and which was the tallest. He nodded, not sure what he was looking at or why he should care.
‘The waters of the Arr are deep on this side of the river and that’s why we have the Rich Docks where we do. On the south side it’s a different matter. There are miles of mudflats and that’s where the mudlarks live in wooden shacks built on stilts in the mud. The city would like to be rid of them. They tried once.’ He gave Berren a long hard look. ‘I imagine that would have been a couple of years before you were born. Didn’t work, but the trying changed the world too. Now the city puts up with them. Just about.’
Berren tried to keep looking at the river and the dull expanse of flat nothing that the priest was talking about. His eyes kept darting back up towards The Peak, though. For a moment, Berren felt immensely stupid. A couple of weeks ago, he’d gone to an execution and seen Master Sy given a purse of ten golden emperors and he’d been in awe. He was in the wrong place.
That
was where he wanted to be. In among those towers, up there on The Peak . . .
‘Am I boring you, son?’
Berren started, wrenched back to the mundane world of an old priest and a thief-taker. From where he was, it was hard to see which tower was the tallest. As soon as he thought he could get away with it, he turned to look at them properly.
‘Which one is the Overlord’s tower?’
The old priest gave a long sigh. ‘Here I am, trying to tell you about the people who are the poorest in our little world so you might pity them and help them, and all you care for is who are the richest and the most powerful so that you can envy and resent them.’ He gently shook his head. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Your master came here to me eight years ago, almost fresh off his ship. No money, no nothing except a belly full of rage, a head full of ambition and a heart full of . . .’ He frowned and then he looked at Syannis. ‘Yes. Well. He came to the temple and I brought him up here and he sat on the edge with me, just like you, and he asked me the exact same thing. All that ambition.’ He glanced back over his shoulder towards Master Sy. ‘Hasn’t really gone away, has it? And what about the rage?’