My Infinite System.

Lucian left the yards with his pay and the familiar ache in his hands,

the street carrying him toward the canal with no thought at first. He bought fried bread from a cart and ate it off as he walked, the pace dictated by how many people were around him -- no pair of Watch stood by to see him leave, and no clerk called his name, only for a stretch: it might have been any end of shift.

not until he drew close to the lower bridge did he see

a man fall beside him as if they’d planned it -- middle height and a clean coat appropriate to the district, and an easy smile that never touched his liking eyes.

”You lift,” the man said like commenting on the weather, ”like someone who could be doing work that pays better than day crates.”

Lucian looked at him over his shoulder. ”Do I know you?”

”Not yet.” A tip of his shoulder showed the man’s own name: Derrin. ”I find people who work certain tables when the yards’ crews are too shorthanded.” He gestured at Lucian’s gloves. ”You’ve been on Sull’s line long enough that the rhythm’s in your bones. It’s rare for new Frees,” he added as if supplying a counterpoint. ”Those who burn out, pick a fight, or simply vanish when the taxes get cut for the first time.”

”I need rent.”

”Assumed as much.” Derrin indicated ahead with two fingers, a gesture Lucian had learned to keep from eye contact when a conversation felt like it might turn to business. ”Walk ahead to the next corner as if I haven’t said anything. If you hate what I’m going to say, you lose a minute. If you like it, I give you an opening.”

Lucian kept walking as he weighed his words against their meaning. If he’d said no out loud it might have been a different matter, but in the end Derrin chose to take it for what it was.

”I’m not Watch,” Derrin warned, ”or one of the house stewards who tucks a crest in his pocket when he thinks no one else can see him. I work the middle, where Frees with good habits get seen by people who’d rather not risk their own blood on plain jobs.” He smiled a little. ”Escort a package from place to place. Stand outside a meeting. Move certain things from one building to another that aren’t meant to appear in the standard dock inventories.”

”Sounds illegal.”

”Sometimes irregular.” Derrin gave another of those smiles, this one a touch more stretched. ”It makes a difference to the people who can afford to pay.”

Lucian watched the last of the bread slip from his fingers onto the paper he’d used to wipe his fingers. ”Why me?”

”Because you answer questions without bleeding your life story down the street.” Derrin glanced at his face as they walked. ”Dull is valuable. Exciting men get paid once. Dull men get paid again.”And the risk?”

”Depends on the job.” Derrin’s smile was lighter, the words more honest. ”I tend not to send new hands into blood work, and I also don’t lie about what routes are unsafe. You’d be told enough to have an opinion before I sent you out.”

Lucian halted at the corner and finally faced him, all the better to watch his face for signs something else might be happening. ”Who’ll pay you?”

Derrin chuckled under his breath. ”Direct,” was all he said, and it was good enough. ”And I take more than one kind-- some tables are from the houses, some from more Free coin with a touch of protection from the outside, but I wouldn’t hand either of those names to a new man on first meeting. You understand.”

”I do, but I’d like to know if I’m being hired as a soft hook in advance.”

”I want to know if you can listen without getting dramatic.” Derrin pulled his shoulder up in what was meant to be a shrug. ”There’s a run scheduled in two nights that should be low risk, a two-man carry between warehouse and private dock. The pay’s better than what Sull gets in a week if the seal’s unbroken. You work it clean, I’ll bring you better offers ahead of time.”

Lucian let the offer hang between them - in his head Cael remained silent, an interesting sort of song. It was business of the street, not celestial business, but that didn’t make it entirely safe.

”And if I say no?” Lucian asked, testing the edge of the response.

”Then you’ll go back to crates and I’ll have to hunt again for a pair of steady hands.” Derrin said it lightly, but watched Lucian with his usual intent. ”I don’t punish people for refusing me on their first talk, but I also don’t wait forever for stable Frees to come to hand. Good enough men get taken up quickly when the wrong people start watching the lower plane closely.”

”That doesn’t mean I like bad men.” Lucian kept his gaze on the man’s face. It was all a matter of perspective.

”Good men get taken up faster. Derrin smiled again before he put his hand out, the palm up, and produced a small disk of bone which lacked any crest or marking Lucian recognized. ”If you want the run, toss the thing with the night sellers at Hold Market before tomorrow’s last bell. If not, keep it as a souvenir or throw it in the canal.”

Lucian didn’t take it right away. ”You found me in the yards.”

”I watched the yards and you made it easy by always being the same.” Derrin frowned. ”Most Frees stick to their day work when they’re stable, and that means it’s easy to catch them.” He gave the chip another glance. ”It means it’s also hard to replace them, if you’re asking about the whole pitch.”

A cart rumbled by and forced them to side up against the railing before they were forced apart, and Derrin used it as a moment to lower his voice.

”One more thing before I let go and leave you alone for a change. Frees tend to end as furniture if they continue to work open day labor for too long -- furniture is counted when the big rooms get inventoried, and you can stay that way if you want, but it’s just as easy to step off the main board so it’s hard to tell how many counters are watching.”

Lucian looked at him. ”And harder for me to leave clean.”

”That too.” Derrin held out the bone chip on his palm. A grown man. Your choice.

Lucian took it, but didn’t tuck it away immediately. He had it in plain sight where neither of them had to look twice to see it.

”I’ll think,” he said.

”Thinking’s healthy.” Derrin slipped back into the flow of the rest of the walk, giving the impression he was going to be busy for some time. ”Just don’t think too long that the run leaves without you. Opportunities in Keth-Arel don’t usually last for life.”

He blended in with the rest of the world and was gone by the next corner.

Lucian lingered at the corner with the chip on his finger. The smart move of pure blending was to refuse, and the practical move was to understand who wanted him and why. The dangerous move might be asking for a yes before he knew which table had hired the smile.

He turned it once, then slipped it into his coat pocket.

Reed Street could wait a few more minutes. He went the long way back through Hold Market and watched how night sellers received various tokens, notes, and sometimes quiet transfers from one to another. No eyes were on him and only twice when a seller glanced his way did Lucian take the opportunity to buy a little dried fruit before continuing.

Cael finally spoke as he left the market lane.

”He’s a net.”

”I know.”

”You took the bait piece.”

”I took information,” Lucian said, mostly to himself. ”There’s a difference.”

”Maybe not to the fisherman.”

Lucian did not take the opportunity to argue, only climbed the stairs up to the boarding house and passed Henn’s empty desk as he came in. He set the small piece of bone on the chair in his room, where it looked harmless in its lack of size, markings, and power.

Outside, Keth-Arel dragged its evening on into the night. Inside, Lucian sat with a new problem to contend with that had nothing to do with Watch lists and everything to do with someone deciding he was an interesting prospect.

So far, he still hadn’t answered the question.