Leff nodded. ‘That’s the problem, all right. You got it dead on there, Scorch. All them names. They must’ve had some kind of meeting, don’t you think? All the loansharks in some crowded, smoky room, lounging about with nubile women dropping grapes in their mouths, and some scribe with stained lips scratching away. Names, people down on their luck, people so stupid they’d sign anything, grab the coin no matter how insane the interest. Names, you got it, Scorch, a list of fools. Poor, dumb, desperate fools.’
‘And then,’ Scorch said, ‘when the list is gone, out it goes, for some other poor, dumb, desperate fools to take on.’
‘Hey now, we ain’t poor.’
‘Yes we are. We been poor ever since Torvald Nom vanished on us. He was the brains — admit it, Leff. Now, you tried being the brains ever since and look where it’s got us, with a damned list and all those names.’
Leff raised a finger. ‘We got Kruppe, though, and he’s already given us six of ’em.’
‘Which we passed on and you know what that means? It means thugs kicking in the door in the middle of the night, delivering threats and maybe worse. People got hurt ’cause of us, Leff. Bad hurt.’
‘They got hurt because they couldn’t pay up. Unless you decide to run, and I do mean run, as in out of the city, as in hundreds of leagues away to some town or city with no connections to here, but people don’t do that and why not? Because they’re all caught up, tangled in the nets, and they can’t see their way clear be shy;cause they got husbands and wives and children and maybe it’s hard but at least it’s familiar, you know what I mean?’
‘No.’
Leff blinked. ‘I was just saying-’
‘What did they think they were doing, to get caught up in nets — swimmin’ the lake? Besides, not all of it’s loans, is it? There’s blackmail, too, which gives me a thought or two-’
‘No way, Scorch. I don’t want in on anything like that.’
‘I’m just suggesting we talk to Tor about it, that’s all. See what he conjures up in the way of plans and such.’
‘Assuming Tor ever shows up.’
‘He will, you’ll see, Leff. He was our partner, wasn’t he? And he’s back.’
The conversation ended abruptly, for no reason obvious to either of them, and they stood looking at each other for a dozen heartbeats. They were opposite the entrance to the Phoenix Inn. It was morning, when they did their best thinking, but that had a way of dying quick, so that by late afternoon they would find them shy;selves sitting somewhere, sluggish as tortoises in a hailstorm, arguing about nothing in particular with monosyllabic brevity and getting angrier by the mo shy;ment.
Without another word they both set out for the Phoenix Inn.
Clumped inside, looking round — just to be sure — then heading over to where sat Kruppe, plump hands upraised and hovering like hooded snakes, then striking down to one of dozens of pastries heaped on numerous platters in front of him. Fingertip fangs spearing hapless sweets right and left, each one moving in a blur up to his mouth, gobbled up in a shower of crumbs one after another.
Mere moments later and half the offerings were gone. Kruppe’s cheeks bulged, his jam-smeared lips struggling to close as he chewed and frantically swallowed, pausing to breathe loudly through his nose. Seeing Scorch and Leff approaching, he waved mutely, gesturing them into their seats.
‘You’re going to explode one day, Kruppe,’ said Leff.
Scorch stared with his usual expression of rapt disbelief.
Kruppe finally managed to swallow everything down, and he raised his hands once more, left them to hover whilst he eyed his two guests. ‘Blessed partners, is this not a wondrous morning?’
‘We ain’t decided yet,’ Leff said, ‘We’re still waiting for Torvald — he had a runner find us down at the docks and said he’d meet us here. He’s already changing things all round, like maybe he don’t trust us. It’s a blow, I tell you, Kruppe. A real blow.’
‘Conflagration of suspicions climbing high into yon blue sky is quite unnecessary, shifty-eyed friends of wise Kruppe. Why, infamous and almost familiar offspring of House Nom is true to his word, and Kruppe asserts — with vast confidence — that the first name is about to be struck from dire list!’
‘First? What about the six-’
‘You’ve not heard? Oh, my. Each had flown, only moments before the cruel night-beaters closed in. Most extraordinary ill-luck.’
Scorch clawed at his face. ‘Gods, we’re back where we began!’
‘That’s impossible, Kruppe! Someone must’ve tipped ’em off!’
Kruppe’s gnarled brows lifted, then waggled. ‘Veracity of your discoveries is not in doubt, you will be pleased to hear. Thusly, you have succeeded in your task with said six, whilst they who compiled the list have, alas, not quite matched your rate of success. And so, how many remain? Twelve, yes? Not counting sleep-addled Torvald Nom, that is.’
‘He ain’t no sleep-addered or whatever,’ Scorch said. ‘In fact, he looked just fine yesterday.’
