Shadow of the Knife

by Jane Fletcher

  The black Militia uniform had its effect. Ellen had not reached the yard in front of the house when she saw three women line up belligerently before the door, and another sneaking off to an outbuilding at the rear. This figure held Ellen’s attention briefly, but it was too tall to be Ade. Undoubtedly the woman was going to hide the evidence for some illegal activity. However, Ellen, on her own, was in no position to make a challenge, even if she were not concerned with more important things than illicit stills and petty theft.

  Ellen reined in her horse. The oldest of the women advanced. Ellen recognized her as Sharon Bwatuti, Trish and Ade’s gene mother.

  “What the fuck do you want here?” Bwatuti’s greeting was everything Ellen had expected.

  “I’m looking for Adeola.”

  “So you can kill her too?”

  “Believe it or not, I am sorry about Patricia. But she brought it on herself.” Before Bwatuti could cut in, Ellen continued. “And you know very well why we want to find Adeola. If she hands herself in, she’ll get a fair trial.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Adeola has brought enough trouble to this family. If you know where she is, you’d be doing yourself a favor by telling us.”

  “You think I’d turn my own daughter over to you scum, just for an easy life?” Bwatuti’s voice dripped scorn.

  Another woman, Ade’s cousin, now advanced to within a meter of Ellen’s horse. She scowled at Ellen for the space of ten heartbeats. “Why don’t you fuck off.”

  *

  Tilly Paparang was in her normal state of complete denial. “Fran’s a sweet girl. She’s too easygoing for her own good. She wants to please everyone. She always did, even when she was a baby. That’s why she goes along with people when they suggest doing stupid things. She doesn’t want to upset them.”

  Ellen opened her mouth, but was temporarily lost for words, stunned by the vision of Francesca Paparang as someone too amiably docile to say no when anyone suggested that she join in with a street robbery.

  “That’s why I tell Valerie to keep an eye on her. But Valerie can’t be bothered. She’s off, looking out for herself, like always.”

  Ellen could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Valerie’s your daughter, and she could have been killed in the ambush.”

  For a moment Tilly faltered, before rallying to her customary refrain. “It’s her own fault for joining the Rangers. I told her not to. She should be here, keeping an eye on Fran.”

  Ellen jumped on the cue. “And exactly where would Fran be now, if someone should want to keep an eye on her?”

  “I don’t know.” Tilly’s reply was noticeable by its atypical brevity. Not that Ellen needed any such confirmation she was lying.

  “You don’t know?”

  “You Militia scared her off. Picking on her. It wasn’t her fault about the sta—”

  “The magistrate thought differently.”

  “They’ve always had it in for her. And why are you after her now? She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “I just want to talk to her. We know the Eriksen sisters are tied up in the trouble here. I want to know if either of them said anything to her.”

  “I’ve told her to have nothing to do with the Eriksens.”

  “Then she’s been ignoring you.”

  “You always believe the worst of her. Valerie should be here, sticking up for her sister. She—”

  Ellen could take no more of it. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks for talking to me. If you should happen to find out where Fran is, you will let me know, won’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Another short, sharp answer. Another lie.

  *

  The mail office was a small room at the rear of the Town Hall. For a fee, letters could be left there to be delivered anywhere across the Homelands. Post arrived whenever enough built up at the main office in Eastford to justify sending someone out to Roadsend with it in a sack. The delivery woman would then take away any outgoing mail. Eventually the letters would reach their destination.

  News that mail had arrived would spread across Roadsend, and within hours, anyone expecting a letter would call by the office. Items left unclaimed after a few days would then be delivered by hand, again in return for a fee.

  Ellen had never received a letter from outside Roadsend, but she knew the postmaster. Pol Jensen was her gene mother’s cousin. She was also the Town Hall filing clerk and the recorder for the magistrates’ court. Despite Pol holding down three jobs, in a small town like Roadsend, none of these were particularly arduous, so when Ellen opened the door of the mail office, she was not surprised to find Pol enjoying an after-dinner snooze.

  Pol jerked awake. “Can I help you?” She then relaxed, recognizing Ellen. “Hi. What do you want?”

  “A favor.”

  “What?”

  “When the post comes in, if there are any letters for Tilly Paparang, can you put them aside and let me know?”

  “I’m not sure if I—”

  “This isn’t just me talking. It’s an official Militia request.”

  “I can notify Lieutenant Cohen.”

  “No.”

  “The rules—”

  “You can tell me, or you can tell Major Kallim at the Ranger barracks, but no one else.”

  Pol’s eyes widened. She stood up and sidled closer to Ellen, dropping her voice. “Is this to do with the killing at the ford? And the big gang?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Right.” Pol drew the word out, her eyes getting still wider. “What shall I tell Tilly?”

  “She’ll be able to have the letter after I’ve looked at it. When you take it to her, say it was late because it slipped behind the table, and you’d only just noticed it. Apologize for the delay and waive the delivery fee. She’ll be happy with that. You can claim reimbursement from the barracks.”

  “Oh no. It will be fine. I’m ready to do my bit to help out. All those poor Rangers, dead.” Pol was clearly thrilled to be involved in the drama. None of her three jobs involved much in the way of excitement.

  *

  The innkeepers Ellen visited in the afternoon did not provide any new information, although a couple she suspected of saying less than they could. Even so, she kept her manner pleasant throughout and did not push. If they were left feeling well disposed to her, they were more likely to suffer a guilt attack afterward and send an anonymous note. She also made a point of stopping her questioning in the midafternoon, to leave them free to prepare for the evening trade.

  Ellen walked back to the north side of town. She intended to have a break, a meal, and then make a round of the taverns that night, in civilian clothes. Maybe she would pick up something. Her thoughts were interrupted when a loud, angry voice hailed her.

  “Hey! What sort of stupid tricks have you been up to?” Terrie Rasheed stormed over.

  “I’ve been working.”

  “Out on your own?”

  Ellen turned her shoulder to show her new badge. “Didn’t the lieutenant tell you?”

  “Yeah. She mentioned it. But that doesn’t mean you can swan around town doing what the frigging hell you like. So—what have you been doing?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

  “What the fuck!” Terrie looked ready to explode with rage. “That wasn’t a request. You tell me what you’ve been doing, and you tell me right now.”

  “I’m not allowed to. You should go and talk to Lieutenant Cohen.”

  “You’re reporting directly to her?”

  “No.”

  “The fucking Rangers.” Terrie had her face scant centimeters from Ellen. “Are you fucking stupid? How many times do you need to be told? You don’t damned well report to them. You—”

  “I do when I get orders direct from Militia HQ. Lieutenant Cohen has got it in writing.”

  Terrie took a step back, temporarily speechless, but it did not last. “You think you’re so fucking clever. I always had you down as a b
rown-nosed little prat. How many asses did you have to kiss this time? It’s the most fucking stupid—”

  Ellen had listened to enough. “If you have a problem, why don’t you write to central command and tell the majors and colonels about how they’re being so fucking stupid? Because it wasn’t my idea.”

  She turned away sharply and kept walking. Terrie did not pursue her and Ellen did not look back to see how her suggestion had been received.

  By the time she reached her home, Ellen had gotten over being angry, and had reached the point of being surprised at herself. She had never spoken back like that before, and was just starting to worry she might have gone too far. Would she get into trouble for insubordination? Although, from what Belinski had said, central command were more likely to back her than Terrie.

  As ever, Mama Becky was sewing by the door. She smiled. “You’re home early.”

  “Yup.” A surge of elation pushed away other emotions. Ellen grinned and turned her shoulder to her mother for inspection.

  At first, nothing but confusion showed on Mama Becky’s face, as her eyes tracked up and down Ellen’s arm, trying to work out what she was supposed to be looking at. Then she spotted the new badge. “You’ve finished your probation? You’re a patrolwoman?”

  “Yes.” Ellen felt her smile get wider.

  “But I thought it wasn’t due until...”

  “The first of September. They’ve moved me up a few days early.”

  Mama Becky’s expression collapsed into doubt. “Is it because of the trouble with the Rangers? Have they got you hunting down the gang on your own?”

  “No, Mom. Of course not.” Ellen paused, realizing she had just said an outright lie. But she could not tell the truth. Her parents would worry far too much, especially after what had happened to the 12th Squadron.

  “So why...”

  “Well, yes, in part it’s because of the Butcher and her gang. And with Chris being out. We’re shorthanded, with a lot do to. They need me to be more independent. But that’s it. And my pay will go up.”

  The assurance did no good. Mama Becky’s eyes were already filling with tears. “You will take care, won’t you? If anything happened to you I’d...I’d...”

  Ellen knelt beside her gene mother and hugged her. “It’s all right, Mom. The Rangers will be taking care of it now. We Militia will just be in a support role. And I promise. I’ll be very, very careful.”

  Chapter Nine—Boats on the River

  Ellen stood in the shadows at the rear of the tavern, sipping her drink and observing. The Twisted Crook was not her favorite place for socializing. The beer was indifferent and the bar staff unfriendly, which was at least partly in reaction to the volatile clientele, made up of barge crew and itinerant farm hands and laborers. Anybody familiar with Roadsend would know where to find a better tavern. Thus it was a good place to start looking for strangers in town, and maybe overhear loose gossip.

  However, Ellen did not intend to stay there all evening, and it was time to move on. She had noted the unfamiliar faces in the taproom, and the volume was now so loud that she stood little chance of hearing anything. She drained her tankard and dumped it on the bar.

  Outside, the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Ellen took a deep breath of warm air—the smell of sheep dung was less objectionable than that of unwashed bodies and stale beer in the taproom—and started walking. The wide street called South Drove led toward the next tavern she wanted to check out, the Drovers Rest, by Old Docks. Ellen knew she would end up crawling if she tried visiting all the Roadsend taverns in one night, even if she limited herself to a small measure of beer in each, but she hoped to get around to those with the worst reputations.

  Ellen was halfway along South Drove when she heard the sound of running feet coming from a side alley that joined the main street a short distance ahead. Seconds later, a figure cannoned into view, spun toward her, and froze. Ellen had been ready to take evasive action, were it needed, but she also came to an abrupt standstill, recognizing Hal.

  Despite all the doubts in her head, Ellen’s heart leapt at the sight of the woman who had been dominating her thoughts for days. Even so, she had not realized quite how desperately she wanted to see Hal again, and it was all she could do to keep a smile off her face. The bubbling feeling of excitement in her chest was stupid and misguided, but knowing this did not make it go away.

  Hal was clearly out of breath, and uncharacteristically anxious, but still spoke first. “Hi. I was...I was looking for you.”

  “Me?”

  “Your mother said you were visiting taverns. I’ve tried most others. It was going to be the Twisted Crook next.”

  “You’ve spoken to...” Ellen stopped herself. Why act like an idiot and ask what had already been answered? “How did you know where I live?”

  A trace of Hal’s normal smile returned. “I have my sources.”

  Ellen folded her arms. “So?”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Hal ran her hand through her hair and took a step nearer, closing the short distance between them. “When you came to the farm, I was in a shitty mood. Aunt Cassie had kept me up most of the night. Jo had just told me we’ve got to do more work on the jetty. And the sheep had been awkward buggers all morning. It’d taken me ages to get a bunch into the pen and then one jumped on my foot, and while I was hopping around in agony the rest escaped again. The dogs were having one of their funny turns and just watched them go. I was ready to kill something when you turned up.”

  “You sounded like you didn’t care about the murdered Rangers.”

  “I cared all right.”

  “But you had more sympathy for the bandits?”

  Hal leaned forward, shaking her head in denial. “Dead bandits are fine by me. Dead Rangers mean I’m in for more trouble next winter. I was pissed off at them for getting themselves killed.”

  “That’s a bit illogical.”

  “You try being logical when you’ve just had a sheep dancing on your toes.”

  Ellen stared down at her own feet. Forget the sheep. Trying to be logical when Hal was standing so close was damned near impossible. But then she felt, rather than saw, Hal reach toward her. Summoning her willpower, Ellen backed away, out of range. If Hal touched her, Ellen knew any self-control would be lost.

  “So why come looking for me now?”

  “Because...because I’ve spent six days being miserable, hoping you’d call back. And I’ve realized you aren’t going to. And I’m scared that if I don’t shift my ass, some other slut is going to jump you.”

  “I haven’t noticed a queue forming.”

  “Really? The women in this town must be blind.”

  Ellen ducked her head to hide her smile. Again she felt Hal get close. This time Ellen placed her hands on Hal’s waist to hold her still and then stared into her eyes. The world stopped.

  “So. I’ve not left it too late?” Hal asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you going anywhere interesting?”

  “Just making the rounds.”

  “You’re not wearing your uniform. Are you on duty?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Does that mean I can sort of tag along?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Ellen released Hal, letting her hands drop to her sides. If Hal was with her, there was no way she would be able to concentrate on her surroundings. As it was, the temptation to abandon the round of the taverns was overwhelming.

  “You don’t trust me.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “I—”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  Ellen stared at her, unsure what to say.

  “I’m a stranger in these parts. I arrived just when the thefts started. You’ve got no proof that I’m who I say I am. And I’m a disruptive pain in the ass. Of course you can’t trust me.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then it ought to be.”

  “It’s not you. I’m not supposed to talk about what I’m doi
ng with the other Militiawomen either.”

  “It’s that secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even so, I’d like to help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Maybe not tonight. It’s all right; I’ll kiss you, then go and leave you to get on. But if I can do anything to help you, I will.”

  “That’s good of you but—”

  “I have ulterior motives.”

  “What?”

  Hal stepped close, slipping her arms around Ellen’s waist and resting her forehead on Ellen’s shoulder. “I want to get into your pants, and I don’t think you’re going to let me, until you know I’m in the clear.”

  *

  Ellen found Mel Ellis in the stables at the barracks, brushing down a horse. Straw on the ground muffled the sound of Ellen’s feet and the Ranger seemed unaware of Ellen’s presence until the horse raised its neck and nodded its head toward her. The animal’s lips rolled back to reveal teeth, although its demeanor suggested that the gesture was an appeal for food, rather than threatening.

  Mel broke off brushing and looked over her shoulder. “Do you want something?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m trying to track down whoever told the Butcher about your plans to raid her base.”

  “Good. I want to see the bitch swinging by her neck.”

  “I’ll do my best. I’m starting off by trying to get some information.”

  “That’s rare for the Militia.”

  Ellen chose to ignore the comment. “Do you have any ideas how the plans got leaked?”

  “You were in the Three Barrels that night. You saw how excited some of the women were. Someone didn’t watch her mouth like she should have. And somebody else was listening in.”

  “Is there anywhere else you could have been overheard? The Three Barrels wasn’t the first tavern you visited that night, was it?”

  Mel put down the brush and stepped away from the horse. “We’d started off in the White Swan. I don’t think it was there. The girls weren’t as high then, and the place was damn near empty. That was why we left. It was dead.”