by Julia Knight
She never even blinked. One shot blasted into a guard and sent him flying into the man behind, then she threw the pistol at another and dragged out a long knife from a pocket cunningly hidden in her skirts. Before anyone else had moved, she was at Rillen’s throat with it.
Even now, Van Gast couldn’t help but notice the smooth grace of her, the muscles, a dancer’s not a fighter’s, but just as deadly. Quick was her thing. She couldn’t often beat a man with strength, but she could gut him so quick he never knew about it. She’d do it too. Dangerous as a snake-pit, his Josie, and about as predictable.
The guards hesitated, a fraction of a heartbeat, as the knife slid along Rillen’s neck and drew a thin slice of blood after it. Josie didn’t say anything—she didn’t have to. It was all in her lopsided grin as she moved behind Rillen. Rob, kill or delight, that grin said. Van Gast was pretty sure delight wasn’t an option today, not for Rillen.
“It’s no use, Josienne,” Rillen said. “I’ve known who you are all along. You and your little game. It would never have worked, anyway.”
Josie’s hand twitched at the use of her true name, brought another flow of blood from Rillen’s throat, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“The key to Van’s cell,” she whispered in his ear.
The guards were moving, slowly, subtly. Regrouping, checking pistols. One of them came too close to Van’s grille. He slid his cuffed hands through, looped the chain over the man’s head and yanked him back hard into the door. The guard’s pistol went off, wild, and the bullet pinged off the ceiling before it embedded itself in the door by Josie’s ear.
“For fuck’s sake, Van. You’re supposed to be shooting them, not me.” Her grin was hard, bright, her words as sharp as steel.
“Get me out of this cell, I’ll shoot anyone you like.”
Rillen smirked at Van Gast. He didn’t like the look of that smirk, or the way his little-magics felt as if he’d swallowed a bucket of hot coals. Rillen had known who Josie was, hadn’t been fooled for an instant. There was more, somewhere. More guards, more guns, more something. He could feel it in his bones, vibrating in his head.
“Josie, you’ve got to run. Right now.”
“I—” She cocked her head, considering, but hesitated only a fraction. “Fuck that. The key, Rillen.”
Rillen made a move for his pocket, but it wasn’t for the key, Van Gast knew it by the claw in his chest even as the hand dipped in. Not only that—Josie’s little-magics didn’t run the same way as Van Gast’s. She couldn’t feel it, or know when it was time to run.
Van Gast did. “Josie! Now, run now!”
His shout made the knife move, just a finger’s breadth. Enough. Rillen barged backward into her at the same time as he pulled something out of his pocket. Josie’s knife flashed, caught him on the arm, but it was too late.
Rillen’s elbow got her under the ribs and sent her breath whooshing out in an angry hiss. He was quick, the son of the council, Van Gast had to give him that. Almost as quick as Josie and stronger with it. Two of the guards went to help him, and despite his strength he needed it.
Josie squirmed like an octopus under him, caught him a crack on the head with the hilt of her knife. The guard in front of Van Gast tried to wriggle free, but Van Gast yanked on the chain and kept him out of it.
In the end, it wasn’t the extra strength or weight that let Rillen win, that rendered Josie still as death. It was what he took out of his pocket. A little pouch, harmless seeming, except for the blind silver worm poking from the opening. A bond, a mage-bond.
Sly fucker. Rillen knew the one thing Josie was afraid of, though she’d doubtless never admit it. She lay under his weight and watched with wary terror as he held it over her.
“That’s better,” Rillen said as he stood up. Josie scooted back, but a guard at either side caught her. Rillen’s face took on a breathless, exalted look, as though he were communing with gods. “Oh, this is much better. Van Gast the uncatchable is in my cells and Joshing Josie, who’s afraid of no one and nothing, cowers in terror at my feet.”
He leaned forward, proffering the pouch, careful not to let his fingers get too close to the silver bond that seemed to snuffle the air. Seeking new flesh to bond, new minds to enslave. Too close—Josie lashed out with a boot and a snarl, but the guardsmen held her tight.
“Not to worry. I won’t, not yet at least. I’ve got a little something for you and Van Gast to do for me.”
“Well, you can piss off and forget it then, can’t you?”
Her foot snaked out again and caught him on the thigh. Rillen moved back half a step, just tantalizingly out of her reach.
“No, I don’t think so. Because I have it on good authority there’s one thing that will make you. One thing you’re afraid of.”
Her mouth twisted into her lopsided smile, devilish and taunting. “Not you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Get these goons off me and give me a knife, and I’ll have your bollocks for earrings. I’ll bond you, you little fucker.”
Rillen laughed, a chill little chuckle that made icy footprints run up Van Gast’s spine. At Rillen’s glance, the two guards picked Josie up, still spitting and cursing as they checked her for more weapons. By the time they’d done, one had a bloody nose and the other would be walking carefully for a while, but Josie was weapon-free.
Rillen looked Van Gast’s way, and Van Gast wished he hadn’t. A shark, he’d thought the man, and he’d been right. A wide toothy smile, flat, dark eyes with no feeling behind them. He was biding his time, ignoring the fish and waiting for a fat seal to sink those teeth into. Van Gast had the worst feeling that he and Josie were either the bait or the seal. Neither of those appealed.
“Let him go,” Rillen said to Van Gast. “Let him go and I won’t bond anyone. Just yet, anyway.”
Van Gast stopped pulling on the guard’s neck, let the man thud to the flagstones and sit there, his breath labored and loud. A guard prodded Van Gast away from the grille with his sword long enough for them to open the door, thrust a still-swearing Josie inside and slam it again. The key ground the lock shut and disappeared into Rillen’s pocket.
The guards dragged Skrymir off into another cell. His face was white as wave-tops, and the stone beneath him was dark with blood.
Rillen wiped at the blood on his throat and clamped a hand on his bleeding arm before he came up to the grille, his face out of Van’s reach. His voice was low, conspiratorial, just between the two of them.
“I’ll give Skrymir his chance. Maybe he’ll live, and maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter, I don’t need him. But you, ah, Van Gast, I have so much to pay you back for. An account you’ll pay, one way or another. The uncatchable Van Gast, scourge of the western coast, in my cells. And his lover too. No rack would dare go against the man who caught the pair of you, especially once I’m head of the Yelen. A little bonus payment from you, for my brother. I’m sure you remember him, in Bilsen? For him, I’ll be back soon. With this bond, for one of you. Not yet, not now. But soon. And when I come back, one of you gets bonded. Your choice as to who, Van Gast. Enjoy yourselves in the meantime. You might as well. I think I can guarantee it will be the last time you do.”
With a flashing grin that might have looked quite at home on Van Gast, Rillen strolled away up the corridor.
* * *
Holden steered a protesting Tallia by the elbow through the buffeting crowds. Both of them were cloaked despite the night heat, hooded away from prying eyes.
“Holden, please, it wasn’t—”
He steeled himself against the look in her eyes. “Enough. Come on, which way?”
“Why are—ow!”
Holden loosened his grip a touch, but he still had firm hold of her. “Right at the Herald’s Trumpet?”
“Holden, stop a moment. Think.”
He came to an abrupt halt and turned her to face him, her face shadowed by the flickering torches and the hood. “Think about what? Van Gast and Josie are in trouble. Skrymir, too,
and he was for a long time my only friend. I have to help them, and you’re going to help me.”
He tried to get her moving again, but she dug in her heels, her mouth set in a stubborn pout. “But Holden—”
“I trust them, not you. I have to. See what mistrust got Van Gast—a hole in his side you could fit your fist in, and not much else except losing Josie. I’m not making the same mistake.”
“Fine, come on.”
She didn’t take him the way he’d expected. He’d been in the licensed docks many times, in his former life as a respectable Remorian commander. The entrance was by Kyr’s Palace, and that was where he’d thought they’d try to get in. He’d thought maybe he could try a lie.
Tallia led him a different way and wouldn’t elaborate why when he asked. She seemed very grim now, no shred of her infectious grin, no bounce of her step. Holden wished he could take it back, all that he’d said and done, so that she’d look that way again. Make him feel that way again, but that brought on another wash of guilt.
The roads Tallia led him down grew narrower as they left behind the more reputable parts of the city. Houses huddled together, leaning over the lanes as though gossiping about them. Doors stood open, and there the people did gossip, followed their progress with sly eyes and whispers behind hands. A scruffy dog sat and watched them pass, as intent as any of the people. Holden’s bells sounded odd and out of place here, forlorn and alone.
He was glad when they passed out of the warren of alleys and moved toward a nondescript gap between two houses, with two elderly men sitting at its head, playing a game of bones. Holden recognized it—Find the Lady. The men watched them covertly as they approached but made no move except to play their game. Holden paused as the older one stopped his deft juggle of the cups. The other pointed to the left-hand cup.
“No,” Holden said, though he wasn’t sure why. “The center cup.”
The older man cackled and lifted the center cup—there sat the Lady. “That’s twenty coppers you owe me,” he said to the other, and then nodded at Tallia and Holden, as though allowing them passage.
“How did you know?”
“Van Gast taught me the trick. It’s easy once you see it.”
“No, how did you know to say—never mind.” Tallia gave him a sideways glance but shook her head and carried on, down into the gap. The walls were blank, no windows or doors, but Holden had the feeling they were being watched nonetheless.
“What is this place?”
Tallia stopped in a narrow twist of the gap. “Don’t you ever wonder where the guards live?”
“I—no, can’t say I ever have.”
“Well, this is it. The watchmen who patrol the city don’t live in the palace, or the licensed area, or not all of them. No families allowed in there, so a lot live outside. Not many people want a guard for a neighbor though, eh? Not a man whose job it might be to take your hand tomorrow for stealing, whether you stole anything or not. So they tend to live in little huddles like this one, and it’s almost as hard to get in here as it is the main gate, just more…subtle. The people don’t like us as neighbors, perhaps—but we don’t like them any better.”
“We?”
Her smile was strained. “My father was a watchman before he died. I can get us in. Perhaps. All the older men, the retired guards, they keep this place separate from the rest of the city. Gives them something to do, and they know all the tricks. Those two men playing bones? Lookouts. Play it wrong and one whistle would have forty guards on you, quick as spit. Try coming down here without their leave—no exits, see? Trapped between them and what’s up ahead, which is a lot more guards. Pick you off with pistols and arrows from the roof. The guards protect their families as much or more than they do the Yelen.”
“But you can get in?”
“Perhaps. Rillen owns the guards, body and soul, if not mind. They do what he says, or else they’ll be dressed as a rack and hung on Oku’s wall with the rest. I’m a familiar face, so they’ll give me some leeway for my father’s sake, but we’ll still need to be crafty.”
Tallia stopped at a locked gate at the entrance to a small square. She motioned for Holden to wait in the shadows. At the far end of the square a dark hole opened, flanked by two vague men in Yelen guard uniforms. More shadowy figures lurked on the rooftops. No one seemed to be guarding the gate they stood at, until Tallia said something in a low voice. More guards, hard-faced and suspicious until they saw her. One nodded recognition and she spoke a few more words, ones that Holden couldn’t catch. Finally, Tallia waved him forward.
The guards looked him up and down, noted the fading bond-scar at his wrist and conferred for long minutes. Eventually one went off and returned with another, some sort of sergeant by the insignia. He crossed his arms over his not inconsiderable chest.
“Well then. I know you,” he nodded at Tallia, “and yet my orders are quite clear. I got no orders about this one though. A Remorian too. He doesn’t look mad, but then, it’s hard to tell.”
“Rillen wants Van Gast, doesn’t he? Well, this is Van Gast’s first mate. Ready to turn him over, for a share in ten thousand sharks. You going to deny Rillen that?”
The sergeant wiped a thoughtful finger over his top lip. “Now, as a rule, I wouldn’t want to cross Rillen, that’s true, and true again he’s after Van Gast something fierce. But there’s a big party on up at the palace. Big party, ambassadors and all sorts, and there’s already been one to-do. Haven’t heard the details yet, but there’s one man who won’t be seeing the outside of a cell again. Or not for long anyway.”
He chuckled at Holden’s puzzled look, then mimed a noose yanking at his neck. “They see the sun for about a minute before they don’t see anything ever again. Unless they get the nail. Then they see more sun than they want. Like I said, don’t know the details, but the name Van Gast has filtered down, oh yes. Of course—that’s news, that is, Van Gast getting himself caught. Over a piece of tail too, if rumor’s right. So now, if Rillen has him nice and trussed up in the cells, him and that Joshing Josie, why does he need you or Van Gast’s first mate?”
Tallia opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to find anything to say. Holden stepped in, the thought of Van Gast caught, and Josie now too, in the Yelen cells waiting a noose making his brain fizz with dread. The lie, when it came, was smooth as silk on his tongue. “Because I know where Van keeps all his money.”
“And you don’t want to keep it?” The sergeant raised a grizzled eyebrow. “Seems to me you got it made. You don’t need to turn him over, you got everything of Van Gast’s.”
Holden’s heart thudded furiously, pounding in his ears as he tried to come up with something glib. The burn of his blood was painful, terrifying—and glorious. Every nerve ending was alive, every drop of sweat tingled on his skin, every muted color in the courtyard suddenly vibrant. He felt so alive, he wanted to kiss the world. Is this how Van feels all the time?
The idea came, and was out of his mouth before he had the chance to think it through properly. “I’m part of his crew for one reason only, a scam. Josie. Van stole her from me and cut off my hand while he was at it.” He waved his scarred stump at them. “I want her back, and Rillen can take everything of Van’s. A share of ten thousand is more than that anyway. I just want to screw Van Gast as hard as I can, and I’d not taint myself with anything of his. It’s worth more than you’re offering. A lot more. Maybe I can watch him swing too. Worth more than money to me.” He marveled about how easy the lie came and tried not to think how little of a lie it really was.
The sergeant nodded, the sage movement of a man who’s seen a lot and has little left to surprise him when it came to people. “Women, eh? Always take the bastard over the real man. Doesn’t surprise me. All right. I dare say Rillen might want to hear you out at least. Never know what goes through that snake’s mind. Four guards with you though, and don’t try anything stupid. They’re all good shots. You leave your pistol and sword here. I’ll take good care of them.”
Holden opened his mouth to say more, but Tallia gripped his wrist and shook her head. He shut up—subterfuge and subtlety were new to him. As a Remorian commander he’d just asked for what he wanted, grabbed it and not worried overmuch about anything else, any repercussions. There had been few enough with the will or nerve to complain to the Master. Now repercussions seemed to lay about at every turn, ready to trip him, traps he needed to beware of. Traps that Tallia, betrayer or not, liar or not, doubtless knew better than he did.
The guards led them down the dark tunnel, lit only by lanterns at long intervals. Every few hundred paces, another gate blocked the way, flanked by more guards. Finally the tunnel began to go up and, after a final gate with guards in smarter uniform—palace guards, Tallia whispered, rather than watchmen—the roof opened out into a larger chamber. Some sort of barracks-cum-guardroom, from the ranks of beds coupled with racks of swords and pistols. Men lay on their bunks, others were smartening up their uniforms, more came in, flushed from heat and effort. One man seemed in charge, a bossy sergeant type with a large, officious-looking moustache who stood shouting red-faced orders.
One of their guards went to speak with him and he came over, looking Holden over thoughtfully. “Rillen is busy.”
Tallia shuffled under his gimlet gaze. “I’ve got something for him. Please, we’ll wait.”
With a snort of disdain, the man nodded at their guards. “Take them to Rillen’s office. They can wait there. You wait with them.”
The guards ushered them out into a wide corridor where their footsteps echoed on marble floors. The sound of many people enjoying themselves drifted toward them—the tinkle of glasses, genteel laughter, a general murmur of voices. A wide doorway to their left seemed their destination. As they approached, two figures came round a far corner. Rillen, dressed in a blue silk tunic, his eyes on his companion as he kissed her hand.
Holden’s stomach felt as though it dropped to his feet. The fine dress in pale green silk, the sweep of chestnut hair, the wide eyes looking up at Rillen as she flirted with him.
