“It should be ready,” Kennith said. “I could use Julien’s help for the rest of the day to set it up.”
“All right,” Asti said. “After the carriage is ready, you, Cort, Greenfield, and Verci will be in the wine shop.”
“And the rest of us?” Helene asked.
“Mila, I’m putting you on lookout at your hatshaking spot. Most of our trouble will come from inside the Emporium, but if something turns left out front, we need to know.”
Mila nodded. “Got it.”
“Your cadre of street boys ready?” he asked her.
“They aren’t much of a cadre.”
“I need them to do one job,” Asti said. “I need Corgen Street clear when we give the signal, which should be just before midnight. Can you get that done?”
Mila nodded. “I think I can wheedle that out of them.”
“What about Julien and me?” Helene asked. Asti seemed to be avoiding that, which couldn’t be a good sign.
“You aren’t going to like it,” he said.
“What are we doing?”
“Pilsen will be going to the gambling floor, in disguise. You and Julien will be going with him.”
“Inside?” Helene really hated that plan. She liked to work from at least three hundred feet away from the gig and didn’t want Julien anywhere he might have to fight anybody.
“That’s how it’s gotta be,” Asti said.
“I’ll be playing my part of an important man with a lot of money to waste.” Pilsen gave Helene a leer. “A man like that wouldn’t go out without something pretty on his arm—and I’m talking a ripe piece of woman flesh like yourself—”
“You’re disgusting,” Helene said.
“And a bodyguard. That’s your big boy there.”
“Asti!” Helene snapped. “There’s got to be another way!”
“I have always wondered,” Missus Holt said softly, “what it was, exactly, that made people tell me you two needed to be blacklisted. Most people complain about Julien, that he can only do simple tasks. But that’s true of so many big guys like him. So I really think he wasn’t the problem.”
The room went quiet. Helene was too terrified to say anything in response to the woman.
“No, I think the problem was you, Helene. You don’t know when to shut your blasted mouth and do the damn job.”
She never raised her voice. Not a hint. Helene would have preferred if she shouted. Then she could shout back or storm out. The calm, controlled tone of Missus Holt shook Helene to the core. That, and the confirmation of what Helene had always suspected: she and Julien had been put on a blacklist, and that’s why no one had hired them for any gigs in a while. No one except the crazy Rynax boys. Helene looked back at Asti, who despite every bit of flack and lip she gave him, still believed in her and Julien. She had no idea where he got that confidence in her.
“All right,” Helene said. “But won’t they recognize me from the other night?”
“Not when I’m done with you,” Pilsen said. “No one in this room will recognize you.”
“Plus I made this for you,” Verci said, pulling a corset out of his satchel.
“Your wife know you made me underthings, Verci?”
“This isn’t just any corset,” Verci said. He turned it around and opened up a seam. “Several hidden pockets for tiny arrows.”
“And a tiny crossbow?” she joked.
Verci opened another hidden pocket. “It’s flattened out, but it can be assembled pretty easily.”
“Hand it over,” Helene said, grabbing the whole corset. She dug out the clever little device and started snapping the pieces in place.
“I can’t swear to it being especially accurate,” Verci said.
Helene held up the completed device to her eyeline. It could easily fit in her hand, but there was no way to calibrate it. There wasn’t much to keep the shot true. Every time it was flattened and refolded, its inaccuracy would increase. “That’s for sure. Give me a couple hours to get a feel for it. But I wouldn’t be able to hit much more than twenty feet away.”
Cort coughed, but didn’t look up. “I treated the tips of the arrows as well, so be careful with them.”
“Treated them with what?”
“A compound that should give just about anyone severe itching and swelling,” Cort said. “And fast, too. But I can give you a salve to counter it, in case you scratch yourself.”
“That’s not your big jobs, you two,” Asti said.
“What’re the big jobs?” Julien asked.
“First this,” Asti said, holding up a necklace.
Helene chuckled. “Underwear, now jewelry?”
“The stones are fake,” Asti said, pointing to the seven hanging pearls along the necklace. “When Cort does whatever he does to the wall, it’ll make a lot of noise. We need some full-blown chaos when that happens. Throw one stone into any fire. Lamp will do just fine.”
“And then what?”
“There’ll be a loud crack and a ton of smoke,” Cort said. “Those seven should be more than enough to fill the whole floor.”
“That’s not that big of a job,” Helene said. “What else?”
Asti looked down at the floor. “You know that we’ve got a good idea there’s a mage working for Tyne, named Ecrain.”
“Oh, no,” Helene said. She wasn’t going to deal with a mage.
“This goes on all three of you,” Verci said. “We need you to do it.”
Verci asked, and that made her guts jump. She hated what she said next.
“So what do we do?”
Cort held up a little vial filled with clear liquid. “Almost no taste, hardly any odor. Get it in Ecrain’s food or drink.”
“What’ll it do?” Helene asked, taking the vial from Cort.
“Magic requires a certain focusing of thought, from what I understand,” Cort said, looking to Asti for confirmation. “He has that in his system, he won’t be able to stay focused on anything. But subtle. He won’t act strange, just seem oddly distracted.”
“How, exactly, do you expect us to do that? Like how to spot him?”
“Pilsen, you can make a mage, right?” Asti asked.
“Quite well,” Pilsen said. “Once I’ve found him, I’m confident this lovely thing will be able to distract him enough to slip him this little surprise.”
Helene was really starting to dislike the old man.
Verci coughed. “Beyond those things, I also have a hunch they’ve got some kind of system for keeping people on the gambling floor when something goes wrong. Crash down gates or something.”
“You want me there to open the gates?” Julien said.
“You’ll want to,” Asti said. “Once things go crazy, the three of you get out. Fast as you blazing can.”
“And what are you doing all this time?” Missus Holt asked him.
Asti’s eyes darted around the room, assessing each member of the team. “I’ll be going in with Verci,” Asti said. “And with any luck, we’ll cut a path right to the man himself.”
“But the money first, right?” Missus Holt asked.
“Right,” Asti said. “Verci and I get Greenfield to the vault, he cracks it, and we get as much cash out as we can carry.”
“Cort and Kennith as well,” Missus Holt said. “I want us to clear out that vault if we can.”
Asti scowled. “Cort, yes.”
“Yes?” Cort chirped.
Asti nodded. “You can do it. Kennith I want ready to drive that carriage out. When we’ve got the money out and loaded, give Mila the signal, and she’ll clear the path.”
“What’s my signal?” Mila asked.
Verci reached into his satchel and pulled out a big brass bell. “Ring it three times, Ken.”
Helene couldn’t help but laugh. “Si
mple enough.”
“Sometimes simple is best,” Verci said. “At this point we’ll have bashed down a brick wall and smoked out a room, so we don’t have to be subtle.”
“It’s got to be hard and clean, Asti,” Missus Holt said. “We don’t just give Tyne a bloody nose, understand?”
“I understand,” Asti said.
Missus Holt shook her head at him for a moment. Helene got the impression she didn’t have full faith in Asti or the plan.
“At the signal, everyone get out of the area, get yourself across the creek back into Seleth. We regroup at the stable.”
“Not there,” Missus Holt said. “Paper trail back to me is too direct.”
“Then where?”
“There’s a dock warehouse at the end of Junk Avenue,” Missus Holt said. “Green walls, white awning, number seven. That’s the spot.”
“You’re the boss,” Asti said.
“What next?” Verci said. “Helene’s got to get dressed and practice with her new toys.”
“Do that at the stable,” Asti said. “Pilsen will get her disguised. Kennith and Julien will work on the carriage. Cort, get all the supplies you need there. Mila, get yourself ready and then go keep an eye on the wine merchant, make sure that place is cleared out when it needs to be. When’s sunset today?”
“Around seven bells,” Verci said.
“Then we’ll get into place around eight bells.”
“Good,” Missus Holt said. “Now all of you get out and do your jobs.” She got to her feet and slowly limped to an alcove in the back of the room.
“Warehouse on Junk?” Verci asked when she left.
“She has her fingers everywhere,” Asti said. “Everyone should walk over there and give the place a glance. Separately.”
Helene flattened out the crossbow and slipped it back into the corset. “All right, let’s go.” The idea of running her part of the gig inside the place, having to deal with a mage, scared her more than she wanted to admit, but she wasn’t about to let anyone else know that. She grabbed her cousin by the sleeve and pulled him along. Fast as she could walk she went down the dark corridor, out through the stage floor, brushing past the dancing girls, and kicked open the door. She had never been so happy to see the sunlight.
Asti didn’t talk much with Win as they went back to Kimber’s. Win didn’t engage in idle chat, not anymore. All they needed to do was stop in, pick up Win’s few belongings, and bring them over to the stable. Simple job, and then they’d be off the street until it was time for the gig.
Asti’s mind wasn’t much on chatting. Or anything but the gig. The brunt of the risk was on his shoulders for this gig. That was right, that’s how it should be. If nothing else, if the night ended with him dead but Verci and everyone else getting away safely, he could accept that. He wasn’t worried about what Tyne’s men might do to him.
Kimber’s taproom was crowded, surprising for the early hour. Asti started to go upstairs before he noticed out of the corner of his eye that it wasn’t crowded with customers. Nine people, all on their feet, some armed. Kimber backed up against the bar. Only one person sitting down.
Enanger Lesk.
Asti went straight in. “Blazes is this?”
“This?” Nange asked, sipping on a Fuergan whiskey that must have come from Kimber’s private stock. “This is just an understanding between local business people. Nothing to worry your pirie head about, Rynax.”
“You all right, Kimber?” Asti asked.
“I’m not hurt,” she said. Her face was full of fear.
“You want these folks out of here?”
“Please.”
“You heard the lady, Lesk.” Asti moved over to the table Nange sat at. “You and yours should get out.”
“I have to say, Rynax, you’ve got stones in you.” Two of his boys came in close to Asti, knives in hand.
“I know this bloke,” one of the boys said. “He’s the one what killed Poul and Tummer.”
Asti sneered at the boy. “So you were one of the punks trashing Cort’s shop. Lovely.”
“Rynax,” Nange said. “You’re a smart man, and you understand that steps need to be taken. This neighborhood isn’t safe anymore.”
“Because of the likes of you.”
“Me?” Nange got to his feet, picking up his whiskey glass. “Four blocks from here a carriage was smashed open and eight people killed. I had nothing to do with that, did I?”
“Asti?” Kimber asked.
“Just go in back, Kim,” Asti said. He glanced at the doorway. Win was still standing there, dumbstruck. “Win, take Kimber in the back.”
“Nobody is going in the back,” roared one of Nange’s goons. The tall bruiser. He was unarmed. Five young kids with knives, all with matching scratch marks on their necks. Scratch Cats. The blonde woman with massive arms. Two other thugs by the door.
“Easy, Sender,” Nange said. “No need to shout.” He sipped the whiskey. “Rynax just needs to accept how things are going to be from now on in Seleth.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re going to be a boss in this neighborhood.”
Nange whistled, and two fists flew at Asti. Asti ducked them both, grabbing one of his attackers by the wrist and throwing him at the other. The two punks fell in a heap.
“I don’t go down that easy, Nange.”
“No, you don’t.” Nange peered at Asti’s throat. “Quite the nasty scar there. That from the little fracas you caused over on Rabbit?”
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“I’ve been saying you’d be an asset. You and your brother. Sender here thinks I’m wasting my time. But I think you have value.”
“Sender’s right.”
“I think it’s a matter of motivation,” Nange said. A flick of his head, and the blonde woman grabbed Kimber by the front of her dress and slammed her against the bar.
“Stop it!” Asti shouted. Win had stepped into the room, but the two other goons grabbed his arms.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Rynax,” Nange said, brushing imaginary dust off of Asti’s coat. “And we take a piece. Just like Kimber here will give us a piece. For security. Seleth isn’t going to be a mess any longer.”
The beast was howling in Asti’s head. It wanted out. It wanted to claw out Nange’s eyes and eat them. Red was filling up the sides of Asti’s vision.
“That isn’t going to happen,” Asti said.
“No?” Another gesture, and all five of the Scratch Cats jumped on Asti, grabbing his arms. Asti was too focused on holding the chain, keeping the beast held back; he couldn’t throw them off. Nange laughed. “I really like your spirit, Rynax. That makes breaking you so much fun.”
Asti laughed. A deep belly laugh he couldn’t restrain. Two Scratch Cats let go of him in shock.
“What’s so funny?” one of them asked.
“You think you’re going to break me, Nange?” Asti manage to say once he could draw in enough breath. “You stupid man.”
“You think we can’t break you, Rynax?”
“It’s not that,” Asti said. The laughter stopped, sudden and cold. The beast was now slamming at his skull, straining at the chain. “It’s that you have no idea how broken I already am.”
“I think I’ll have to see for myself,” Nange said. The three Cats tightened their grip, and Nange wound up his arm, punching Asti with all his strength across his jaw.
“Asti!” Kimber cried.
Hot blood filled Asti’s mouth. He wasn’t going to be able to hold the beast back much longer.
And he didn’t care either. Not with Nange’s ugly face right in front of him.
“Nange,” Asti whispered. It took so much just to hold on to the chain now, he could barely speak.
“What is it?” Nange asked, moving in
closer. Smug look on his ugly face. “You have some smart comment?”
“Let him go already,” Kimber said. “I’ll pay it. He’ll pay it.”
“I want to hear it from him,” Nange said. He lifted up Asti’s chin. “What do you have to say to me?”
Asti could only get out one word.
“Run.”
He dropped the chain.
Everything went red.
Chapter 24
ASTI BECAME VAGUELY AWARE that his hands were wet. Wet and being brushed. Wiped with a cloth. Slowly he opened his eyes.
Dim room. Lit by a few candles, no adornments. Just a sleeping pallet and a blanket. And someone was washing his hands.
His hands were covered in blood. So were his clothes.
“Who?” he croaked out.
“It’s all right,” said a familiar voice. The person washing his hands looked up. Win Greenfield. “You’re not hurt. Not much, anyway.”
“Kimber?”
“She’s just fine. A bit shaken, but fine.”
“And . . . you?”
“As well as I can be.”
“Lesk? And his people?”
“You don’t remember?”
Asti pulled himself up to a sitting position. “No, it’s . . . all a blur after I told Lesk to run.”
“I think they’re all still alive. Though I imagine none of them will take that for granted for a few weeks.” He chuckled drily. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Like what, exactly?” The last few spells had been brutal, bloody affairs. Scared the blazes out of Verci and Mila. Win seemed almost amused by it.
“You thrashed those thugs like an artist. It was . . .” His face took on a bright, shining countenance. Asti had almost forgotten that Win could smile. “It was fluid, a dance of rage and blood. The way you moved, the way you acted—”
“Like an animal?”
“Like a saint. Pure of purpose.” He stared up at the ceiling, as if searching for the words he wanted up there. “I’ll tell you what is was like. A really brilliant lock, the best kind of lock, has several parts that need to move in concert. You try to pick it, and the tumblers move together the wrong way. Stays locked. But with the right key, everything spins together, lines up perfect, and slides open. That was you, Asti. It was like, the right key just turned in you.”
The Holver Alley Crew Page 29
