Lucian trudged down the narrow stair at first light and found Old Henn already at the front desk with a pot of weak tea and a stack of marked chits.
Henn did not look up. "You're early."
"I need work," Lucian said.
That earned him a glance. "What kind?"
"Honest. Loud enough to look normal. Quiet enough to keep me out of house business."
Henn snorted. "So not assassination, not debt collection, not temple courier work."
"No."
"Then go to the river yards." Henn scratched a rough map on a scrap of paper and pushed it across. "Ask for Foreman Sull. He takes Frees by the day. Pay is average. Questions are few if you lift what you're told and keep your mouth shut."
Lucian took the scrap. "Taxes?"
"Yard tax comes out before you see coin. Street tax hits if you loiter in the wrong lane after bell. Don't argue either one on your first week."
"Understood."
Henn poured tea into a second cup and left it there without ceremony. Lucian drank it. Bitter. Hot. Fine.
