Among Thieves by Douglas Hulick Read Free Book Online Page A

the Long Nose until he turns up floating in the harbor.
    The third kind of Nose is the Narrow Nose. That’s what I do for Nicco—keep tabs on his people, find out who is or isn’t cheating him, and generally solve minor problems before they get big. It doesn’t exactly make me popular with my fellow Kin, but it does give me something the other two types of Noses don’t have—backing. If anyone wants to come after me, he has to think about what Nicco will do to him in return. That’s not a bad place to be. However, like everything else, it has its trade-offs, one of which is that I have to answer to Nicco—a lot.
    It’s that last part that comes back to haunt me, usually at the worst possible times.
     
    The door at the top of the stairs opened, and I was ushered into the office by the two Arms. It was a bare-bones affair: a desk, two chairs, four blank walls, and a small window looking out onto the street. A wooden platter with the remnants of Nicco’s breakfast sat on the desk, giving the room a greasy, meaty smell. Two men were waiting in that smell.
    Nicco was standing at the window, heavy hands clasped behind him. I blinked at the beam of sunlight streaming in, but didn’t look away. That would have been disrespectful.
    In his prime, Nicco had been a slab of bone and muscle, easily big enough to make two of me. Now, he was a late-afternoon shadow of himself—still big, still strong, but losing some of his harder edges. Jowls were beginning to gather under his jaw, and more of the meat on his frame came from food than from fight. Gray smudges had settled under his eyes, making them look haggard in the wrong light. His hair was thinning. But even aging, Niccodemus Alludrus was harder than most men. He’d proved as much three months ago, when he broke an assassin’s back even as the garrote had tightened around his neck. No one questioned whether Nicco still had what it took.
    The other man in the room stood leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, silver rings glittering on his hands and in his ears. Long and thin, he had a sharpness about him—in his face, his clothes, his mind. His name was Rambles, and he was one of Nicco’s senior street bosses. But whereas Nicco favored the lead pipe when it came to solving problems, Rambles took after the stiletto. By all accounts, Rambles and I should have gotten along famously—similar approaches, kindred spirits, and all that crap. Instead, we managed to make oil and water look tight.
    Neither man seemed in a particularly good mood. I made it unanimous.
    Nicco spoke without turning toward me. “Drothe, good of you to come. Sit down.”
    I sat. Behind me, I could hear the Arms taking up positions on either side of the door. Between them and Rambles, this wasn’t a good sign. Nicco and I usually met alone; he didn’t believe in anyone getting information before he did.
    “I’m not used to waiting two days for people,” said Nicco.
    I sat up straighter. Two days? Shit. Mendross hadn’t mentioned the call had come yesterday . I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. I slid a seed into my mouth.
    “I was in the middle of another dodge when I got word,” I said. “I didn’t realize you’d been waiting.”
    “Way I hear it, you were already done with the smuggler when you got word.”
    I blinked. How the hell did Nicco know about Athel? I’d gone to a lot of trouble to keep that job hush.
    Oh. Of course.
    “Shatters,” I said.
    “That Agonyman had a few things to say about you,” said Nicco, still looking out the window. “None of them good.”
    “That sadistic bastard is just mad because I . . .”
    Nicco held up his meaty hand. “I don’t give a crap about your side work, Drothe. As long as I get my cut, I’m happy. What I do give a crap about is my people not doing their job.”
    It wasn’t hard to figure out that “people” meant me. “Look,” I said, “I’m late and I apologize. Sincerely. I didn’t know you’d been waiting—”
    Nicco