Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [81]
Finally, just a few weeks ago, the big announcement came. In a month’s time, on the one-year anniversary of the Night of the Pied Piper, all of Hamelin would gather in the cathedral square, to remember and mourn the lost children. And then, at the conclusion of the solemn observance, the mayor and officers of the Occupying Government would officially hand over the reins of local rule to Bishop Hugo. In return, or so it was widely rumored, Hugo would immediately decree that Hamelin Town, its environs, and all of its people were now, and would forever be, loyal subjects of the Empire, whose existence had been approved and ordained by almighty God Himself.
PETER PIPER CELEBRATED his twentieth birthday only four days before the big event. The party was held in the underground hall of the Brotherhood’s new headquarters, since they’d recently lost their old home to the citywide restoration of the church. After the toasting and feasting, and after Peter had gifted them all with a wild and raucous concert on his flute, Erwin, king of all thieves, took Peter aside for a private chat.
“I fear our beloved Bishop Hugo the Charitable has been a little too generous in his charity giving,” Erwin said, once he’d gotten Peter away from the chance of prying ears. “I fear he’s given all of us away, into the hands of the enemy, in return for his personal freedom and getting his power back. He’s sold us down the river, you and me, and everyone else for a hundred leagues in every direction.”
“True enough, I suppose,” Peter said. “But what can we do?”
“He can’t complete the dirty deed unless he presides over this ceremony in a few days’ time. So what do you say we put a stop to it?”
“How?”
“You’re my Master of the Touch now. So you’ll sneak into the old bastard’s house, the night before the big to-do, and lift his signet ring. That’s the absolute symbol of his authority. Without it he can’t appear in public, or do anything official.”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “This is awful short notice. A touch like this takes time and preparation. You taught me that. The Bishop’s residence in the cathedral is like a fortress, with all of the protections that implies.”
“I’ve already had a chat with Lukas, our Master Caser, and Carl, our Master of Bribes. All of our top brothers are working on this one — you included.”
Carl the Arrow, King Erwin’s brother-in-law, and Peter’s closest friend in the Brotherhood, had been first in line to become the Master of the Touch, the most prestigious honor and exalted office among thieves, short of being the king himself. But an unlucky ax cut three years past, on a job gone horribly wrong in both planning and execution, had left Carl crippled for life, with a limp that would never fully heal. An unhindered ability to move silently and lithely through the shadows, over walls and along rooftops, was essential to anyone who hoped to excel in the art of the touch. With Carl’s blessing, Peter moved up to take his place, while Carl went on to distinguish himself in the tricky business of bribery, a talent for which it turned out he had a heretofore unrecognized gift.
“This is a huge score,” Erwin continued, as Peter persisted in looking dubious. “Three thousand marks, of which you get the lion’s share.”
“Who’s the client?” Peter said.
“I guess that would be me,” Erwin said. “But don’t you never tell nobody. Everyone would think I’d gone soft.”
ON THE NIGHT BEFORE the memorial ceremony, Peter crouched on the high-peaked roof of Dempter House, a four-story mansion that had once belonged to the richest merchant in Hamelin, but which now served as the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters for the most senior members of the Empire’s Twenty-Third Horde. It was located directly across Market Street from the cathedral and afforded Peter an unobstructed view past the high churchyard walls, into the cathedral’s grounds. The deep shadows cast by Dempter House’s street-side crenellated façade insured that Peter