after all
Another evening, another three-subtitle headline.
CAUGHT INK-HANDED!
Foul Forger Foiled
—
Treasonous Artist to Face Justice
—
Criminal’s Capture Cures Magistrate
Yesterday’s edition had Venor barely clinging to life; today his recovery seems cemented.
“The bad ones live for ever. That’s what my dad used to say.” Kit frowns. We’re in his room at the Lugger.
“Because your mum passed so young?”
He shoots me a surprised look. We don’t talk about things like that. “Maybe.” He pauses, then taps the article between us.
“This says they’re going to announce a reward for Zako’s capture by the end of the day.”
I take the article from him and read. He’s right.
Kit and I look at each other. His expression is grim. The Skøl do sometimes offer bounties – but for hardened criminals. Not for a child, a runaway. A boy with no previous history of violence.
It will be useless telling them Zako was acting in self-defence.
Venor won’t have told the truth.
“Ruzi wants to see Zako,” I say. “He hasn’t seen him in six years.”
“Our plan was to get Zako out fast, not host a family reunion.” Kit hesitates. “Missus S is on edge. I don’t think she’ll like it.”
Understandably, Kit’s owners aren’t best pleased they still have a young fugitive to harbour. “Give it a bit more time – till I find another forger and get a plan together. That would cheer her up.”
Another forger. But who? The Artist wasn’t the only show in town, even if he was the best. But his fellow forgers have gone to ground in the wake of his capture. The authorities will want to make an example of him. They’ll have his head on a spike soon. Trade will be even scarcer.
“And if you can’t find another…” My voice tapers away. What else can we do? Kit sees the question in my face.
“Mister S had an idea, actually.” He sets the paper aside. “And I made some inquiries today – discreetly…”
“What was it?”
“A boy could claim he’d lost his Life Record – something beyond his control, like an accident at sea. It happens.”
“And what? Pitch up somewhere with no papers, knowing no one?”
“Missus S has an old friend who moved to Vester Shells two years ago.” That’s the main port city on the biggest of the Crozon Isles. “She could claim to be Zako’s buyer. To vouch for the details of his lost papers. She could re-register him in the Isles.”
My heart drops. The Crozon Isles are two weeks’ sail away. “She’d do that?”
“Missus S said she would. She says we can trust her, that she’s a good woman.”
“We’d never see him if he went to the islands.” I’m surprised to hear such a whine in my voice.
“But he’d be safe.” Kit’s reprimand stings. “The issue is getting him there.”
*
We need money. It all comes back to that. On Zako’s third day cooped up in the Scarlets’ quarters, the Illustrated Portcaye Post and Advertiser drops its anvil on our heads.
His picture covers half a page. Appallingly, it’s my own handiwork – the one I drew for Ruzi that the branders stole from Opal Alley. The bounty is eye-watering.
K10,000 REWARD!
WANTED: Zako Taler
ATTEMPTED MURDERER of the magistrate of County Portcaye Life Registry, and soon-to-be governor of the New Western Counties, His Eminence Valour Venor.
K10,000 will be paid by the Life Registry for the apprehension of Taler.
K5,000 will be paid by the Life Registry for any information leading to the apprehension of Taler, or for the discovery and apprehension of any accomplices proven to have participated in his disappearance. All good citizens are urged to aid in this endeavour.
Description of ZAKO TALER:
Makaian (Island race). Repayer. Age 12 years. Height approx. 4 foot 7 inches. Weight estimated 5.5 to 6 stone. Sunken cheeks and prominent facial bones. Thick-lipped. Shoulders broad but slender in overall appearance. Naturally sullen and ill-tempered. Murderous tendencies! Approach with caution.
Voice: High, occasional stutter. Fluent in Skøl but ill-educated in accent.
Hair: Black, curling, shoulder-length and ill-kempt. No beard or moustache.
Eyes: Rust-orange, squint-shaped.
Skin: Dark complexion with darker freckles on some areas. Cull scar present (beneath clothing, exact location unknown).
To aid in the apprehension of Zako Taler, ALL REPAYERS in County Portcaye are hereby placed under curfew between the hours of 8 at night and 5 in the morning: EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. No Makaians to be seen abroad between said hours without permission from an employer, in writing, on pain of incarceration and/or a fine of K60.
I’m in the Scarlets’ sitting room with Zako and Missus S. She said it was all right for me to come as I’ve been to the Lugger before, and it shouldn’t attract attention. I’m on my best behaviour.
“It’s idiocy.” Missus Scarlet perches like a bird on her chair, back erect, eyes blazing blue versions of the fire before her. At least her anger’s not directed at us.
“The man’s a self-aggrandizer!” She’s still going. “Thinks he’s the biggest bean in the jar with this governorship coming. Ten thousand krunan? All this hue and cry over a child! Bump on his head’s sent him stupid.” She draws out the vowels in stupid.
Zako half smiles and then dips his chin shyly. He looks cleaner than I’ve seen him in years, though his hair’s still ratty.
“Ill-tempered, squint-eyed bollocks,” I grumble, chasing his smile. “Murderous? Approach with caution? You’re not even a teenager! They’re such idiots, Zako. You don’t stutter. And you’ve got eyes like a baby kine.”
His shyness peels away. “I think my eyesight’s going a bit fuzzy,” he admits, narrowing his gaze.
“Oh, really?” Ruzi doesn’t wear glasses, but I remember Zako’s mum had them.
Missus S frowns and levers herself up from her armchair.
“Carry on,” she murmurs to me. “I’m having a lie-down.” The door to her room clicks closed. She’s giving us some space.
Last time, I was too frightened to take in the Scarlets’ rooms. Now I look around. They’re clean, pleasant and spacious. Bookshelves and a corner fireplace dominate the sitting room. Two wide windows overlook the courtyard. The curtains are drawn. A washroom adjoins the sitting room, with water that can be heated in a tank by a miniature ragleaf boiler. A deep tin tub is fixed to one wall, topped with a cedarwood bench. Its window overlooks the Lugger’s main entrance. The Scarlets each have a room off a short corridor from the sitting room.
Zako’s been sitting cross-legged on the floor. He stands, and we share a cautious hug.
“Can’t believe you drew my wanted poster so accurate, Mora,” he accuses. “Thanks a lot.”
“I didn’t draw you for them!” I start to explain, before I realize he’s winding me up. I’m about as wound as I can go.
He’s grinning, but it looks forced.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“Yeah. Ten grand.” He gestures at himself dismissively.
“You’re priceless,” I remind him. “They’ll never see it. More fool them.”
But I can’t ignore that such a large bounty is a shock. It’s well beyond what I expected.
“Wish I felt a bit … more … like me.” Zako’s voice has gone small again.
I bite my lip. He does look ridiculous, wearing one of Missus Scarlet’s old blouses and a pair of rather baggy women’s trousers, rolled up at the cuffs.
“You look fabulous. Like a magician.”
He’s not convinced.
“I’ll pick you up something from the ammedown market.” Ruzi will have the coin. I know he keeps some in a tin. His life savings – it’s barely anything. “They sell old eyeglasses too. I could try and find some for you.”
“Thank you.” Zako swipes a tangle of hair out of his eyes. His hair is like my own, which waves or curls or frizzes, depending on its mood. I’ve no patience to wrangle mine, so I mostly keep it under wraps, making my amber eyes stand out even more.
“I hate this,” he tells me. Missus Venor didn’t let him cut it. They had to control the smallest things.
“Where does Missus S keep the scissors?”
“Look in there.” Mister Scarlet surprises us, coming in from the corridor, and I realize I’ve let my voice reach a normal volume. He waves to the washroom. “Don’t make a mess. Oh, girl…” he gestures to delay me as Zako goes in search of the scissors, “are you planning regular social calls with our most-wanted guest?”
I hang my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Kit says you have a plan.”
I nod eagerly. “We’ll get Zako out soon. Kit told me about your friend in Vester Shells. It’s a good idea.” I try to sound committal. “I don’t mean to disturb though,” I add. “Do you want me to go?”
I hear Missus Scarlet clear her throat next door.
His face seems to soften. “No one said to go. But if someone sees you leaving, what will you say?”
“I’ll say…”
“Exactly.”
Zako reappears. “You can say you’re doing drawings for Missus Scarlet, like you did for Missus Heane.”
Mister Scarlet tilts his head at that.
“My previous owner – she asked me to draw for her. Some portraits, views of the farm, some butterflies. The kine.”
“Drawings.” Mister Scarlet scratches his cheek. “Like Zako in the paper? That was you?”
I nod. “She tacked some up in her kitchen.”
“Well. This idea has merit. You can draw us some luggers out fishing. We’ll hang them downstairs, and you can earn some coin. Suppose you wouldn’t mind that?”
I meet his eyes. “Not at all. How many do you want?”
“I think three. What is fair payment? Ten each?”
I nod again. “Missus Heane never paid me anything.”
“Wait.” Mister S holds up both hands. “Not like that, girl. You tell me… Mister, I sold my last piece to a collector for fifty krunan…” He uses a silly high voice, nothing like mine, and blocks my protests as he carries on. “And I reply… Twenty each and not a penny more!” His own bargaining voice is deeper. “And you say… But I won’t part with my heart’s expression for less than forty! And I say, Thirty is my final offer.” He claps his hands once.
“Thirty’s brilliant.”
“No! You say… I am leaving. I will take my business to a serious man.” He tosses a head of imaginary hair. “And you walk away.” He mimes this, nose in the air.
Zako laughs quietly.
“And then I give in. Wait! I will give you forty.”
“Forty each?”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“I didn’t…” I say, biting back a laugh. “But thank you, I’ll do it for forty.”
“I expect very beautiful boat pictures. Boats to make me cry. Do not tell Missus S what I am paying.” He winks at Zako. Missus S has heard everything, no doubt, from just the next room.
Mister S takes himself off to find her and I carry another lantern after Zako into the washroom.
We share a glance in the mirror.
“He’s funny,” Zako whispers.
Kit never told me his owner had a sense of humour. I can’t believe he’s going to give me over a hundred krunan for three pictures. All he’s seen of my work is Zako’s wanted poster. I’d better make them good.
“We can’t leave Crozoni hair in this bin,” I say. I remove my hair wrap and spread it out. “I’ll collect the cuttings in here and take them. How short do you want it?”
“Short.”
I hack away at first, before snipping more carefully.
He relaxes as I work. Now seems as good a time as any to ask him what I’ve been wondering for days now.
“So, what happened with Venor…?” I meet two startled amber eyes in the mirror. “Can you remember?” I think of the shed and the dogs. “Did you annoy him? Did he lose his temper and lash out?”
Zako puffs out his cheeks. “Not really. That’s the weird thing. You know, there’s been lots of times he’s lost his temper with me over something. But this time – it came out of nowhere. I was cleaning one of the stalls. He just went for me.”
“With a hammer?”
“Yeah. He’d brought it with him. Like he’d planned it all. He … he wanted to kill me, Mor, I know it. He wasn’t even angry. He was … calm.”
I frown. “Did he say anything?”
“Do you remember Devotion?” I nod. Devotion Venor – the magistrate’s daughter, about Zako’s age. I’ve never met her, but she always seemed nice enough to Zako, given what her parents were like.
“He said he knew I’d been playing with Devotion in her room…” His voice hitches. “We were playing cards. Same as we would, remember?”
I nod again at him in the mirror with a small smile. Zako could beat anyone at cards.
“Go on. He didn’t want you spending time with her?”
“No. He was furious.” Zako frowned, remembering. “I told you not to go near my house.” Zako’s imitation of Venor’s hacking voice isn’t half bad. “How dare you sneak around…? How dare you spy on me?” He shivers. “We were just playing. We’d done it before, and he never found out.”
“Did Devotion tell on you?”
“I guess.” His face seems to crumple. “It must have been her. She never came to see me … after … they locked me up. She never came. Now she…” He hiccups fat tears. “She thinks I tried to kill him.”
“You don’t know what she thinks,” I say, but I want to say, It doesn’t matter what she thinks.
He drags a fist under his nose, painting it with a snot trail. I can imagine how he feels.
Memory too fresh-hewn, too ugly to keep, too green to burn. A mess.
“I’m nearly done,” I say. Enough for tonight.
His scar from the Cull is dead centre at the back of his neck, hovering at the top of his spine. The bones protrude. The dark circle looks bigger than mine. A scar that grew as he grew. It should have killed him, so close to his head. They must have done it at no range at all, stuck the gun on his neck like a kine in the slaughter line.
I make sure his shorter hair still hides it.
He looks older when I’ve finished.
“How’s that?”
He raises a soft smile at his reflection in Missus Scarlet’s mirror. “I look different.”
“You look like Ruzi, somehow.” He hasn’t seen Ruzi since they were separated after detention. “You’ve got his eyes and chin. Only he’s got long hair. It’s grey.”
I gather the clippings into my wrap and pocket them before giving his short hair a final swipe with one hand.
“Wait,” he says, and I stop. “Do you think I can see him? Ruzi?”
I hesitate.
“Let’s see,” I whisper. “I’ll talk to Kit, okay? We don’t want to push things with the Scarlets.” But I think about Mister Scarlet, teasing me, persuading me to charge more, and I think I might be able to swing it after all.