You can do this… Mya grasped the portcullis. The iron bar was as big around as her arm and covered in rust, making her grip difficult, but she tightened her grip and followed Lad.
Pausing for a moment mid-span, she made the mistake of looking down. Black water flowed sluggishly past, ready to swallow her should she fall. Don’t think about it! She forced her fears aside and refocused on her task.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, she pulled herself across. When she finally reached the far side, she not only felt better, she felt good, giddy with her success. She descended and dropped lightly beside Lad, barely breathing hard.
“Well, that was fun!” Mya couldn’t suppress a grin.
“Yes.” Lad looked at her and flashed a thin smile. “Don’t grin. Someone might see your teeth in the dark.”
“Right.” She closed her mouth, silently chastising herself. She knew better. “Go ahead. I’ll follow.”
Lad waited for yet another patrol to pass around a corner and out of sight. “Come on.”
Mya followed him into the Dreggars Quarter, immediately noting the difference from the north side of the river. Though Midtown’s modest homes and shops had been a big step down from the Heights in class and quality, this was a plummet into a whole new world. Rusty iron barred shop windows, paint peeled on cracked tenement doors, and, in a gutter, a dead cat swarmed with flies and maggots. Mya had seen worse in The Sprawls district of Twailin, but not much worse, and the Downwind Quarter was reputed to be even shoddier. She hoped they didn’t go that far.
“Ssst!” Lad’s hiss brought her up short. From around the corner came the clatter of another guard patrol, this one larger and moving faster than those north of the river. She tugged on Lad’s sleeve, and they vanished into the shadows of an alley. A moment later, six heavily armed constables strode by.
“Mean streets,” she whispered when they’d passed. “Even the guard doesn’t linger.”
“Let’s find a pub or inn where we can talk to someone. It’s late, but there’s got to be someplace open.”
“All right.” Mya’s nerves still tingled with the exhilaration of crossing the bridge, but doubt clouded her thoughts. What does he expect to learn?
They recognized a pub only by the lamplight shining through cracked shutters, the sound of muted laughter, and a thick-shouldered bouncer lounging at the door. Lad stepped off the curb to cross the street, but Mya grabbed his sleeve.
“You sure you want to go in there? People in neighborhoods like this don’t usually talk to strangers.”
Lad paused, obviously considering her concern. He was listening to her. Good.
“It can’t hurt to try.” He patted the pouch on his belt. It didn’t jingle, since he’d stuffed a handkerchief into it to keep the coins silent, but she got the point. “Maybe we can make some friends.”
“Don’t draw too much attention.” Mya hoped he didn’t take offence at her suggestions. Lad was the most deadly assassin she’d ever known, but his interpersonal skills lacked subtlety. “Let me do the talking. Like I said, bluffing, lying, cajoling, and bribery are my game.”
“Fine. You talk, I’ll pay.” He stepped into the light of the guttering streetlamp.
“And be careful. If you flash too much coin, we’ll get mugged.” She received a scowl for her advice.
The bouncer eyed them, but made no comment as they approached the pub. Mya flashed a smile, but his face remained grim. Nothing like a warm welcome, she thought as they passed inside.
Twenty minutes later they left the pub, a few coins poorer and no richer in knowledge. Their offer of drinks had been turned down, and Mya’s casual questions received only suspicious stares.
“I told you so,” she said.
“You did, but they can’t all be like this, and we’re not in a hurry. Let’s find another.”
“Fine.”
They crept through the streets, evading the sparse patrols and a few skulking types. They tried two more pubs and got the same blank stares and suspicious looks.
“This isn’t working, Lad.”
“One more.” They rounded another corner and spied a likely pub. The windows were barred, of course, but the shutters were open and a cheery yellow glow spilled through the reasonably clean windows. From the voices, it sounded as if there was quite a crowd. “That one looks better.”
Mya stopped to consider their location. “How many blocks from the waterfront do you think we are?”
“Two.” Lad pointed down the street. “Steepway Stair is right over there, the shipyards just down the bluff.”
Mya cocked an eyebrow at him. She had always taken it for granted that he knew his way around Twailin, but even here, after only studying maps, Lad seemed right at home. That makes one of us. She nodded toward the pub. “That explains the crowd. The shipyards work ’round the clock. One shift must have recently come off work.”
“Good. Maybe they’re thirsty. Come on.”
The place was surprisingly homey. The long wooden bar was clean and bright, if not fancy. Fully half of the booths and tables were occupied. The patrons had the look of shipyard workers, with thick, tar-stained hands, and smelling of wood shavings and creosote. The more pleasant aromas of ale, wine, and well-cooked food advertised the pub’s wares better than any menu. Two servers bustled about, smiling good naturedly at their customers.
Nobody smiled at Lad and Mya, however.
The looks they received weren’t friendly, but they weren’t as suspicious as those at their previous stops. Still, every eye she caught quickly looked away. They chose a table in the middle of the room.
“Can I get something for you?” The barmaid brushed her skirts impatiently.
“Highland Summerbrew, if you have it.”
“Aye, we’ve a barrel tapped.” Her eyes darted to Mya. “And you?”
“Some mulled wine, thank you.”
“Very good.” The woman hurried away.
“See, I told you this looked like a friendly little place.” Smiling at Lad, Mya slouched back in her chair.
Lad never slouched. Nudging his toe under the table and cocking an eyebrow seemed to get her point across. He smiled back and sloped his shoulders a trifle. “You did. How can you drink hot wine in the summer?”
At least he’s trying. Mya wondered if Lad could ever truly relax in a crowd. She pitched her voice just louder than normal, but not by much. “I like the spices, and the heat never bothers me. You always order Highland Summerbrew?”
“It’s only really good this time of year. Forbish always had it in season. It’s my favorite.”
“Paxal always made mulled wine for me. We’re creatures of habit, I guess.”
The barmaid returned with their drinks. Foam brimmed Lad’s tankard, and clove-scented steam wafted from Mya’s. “Sixpenny, if you please.”
Lad fished a silver half-crown from his pouch—twice the cost of the drinks—and handed it to the barmaid. “I wonder if you could do me a favor. I’m interested in doing business in this part of town, but we’re new here, and don’t know the…ins and outs of things. Would you let your patrons know that I’d be happy to stand a round to anyone who’ll give a little advice?”
His delivery had improved with practice and a little coaching from Mya.
“I’ll ask,” she agreed grudgingly, tucking the coin into her pocket without offering change. Apparently, when no noble-born were about, tips weren’t proscribed.
Lad smiled at her. “Thank you.”
Mya kept a furtive eye on the woman as she circulated from table to table, chatting with her customers. Despite the hum of voices, Mya could easily pick out the barmaid’s words. She delivered Lad’s message without embellishment, seemingly disinterested in whether anyone took him up on his offer or not. Sipping her wine, Mya avoided meeting the glances that flicked toward them in the barmaid’s wake.
A chair screeched on the floor, and a big man lurched up.
“Don’t, Tori.” The man’s table companion grab
bed his arm. “You don’t know them.”
“Don’t care.” The big man jerked his arm free and stumbled a step, obviously drunk. “Not scared of nobody no more.”
His companion scowled and looked away as Tori snatched up his tankard and drained it, slamming it back down too hard. His crooked path to their table drew stares from a few other patrons, and a lingering glare from the barkeep. Oblivious to the attention he’d drawn, the man stopped at their table and looked down first at Lad, then at Mya.
“Name’s Tori,” he said.
Mya pushed out a chair with her foot and said, “I’m Maci and this is Lem. Have a seat, Tori. What are you drinking?”
Tori looked down at the chair, then back at his own table, where his companion steadfastly ignored him. Sniffing, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sat down. “Mardie knows what I drink.”
Mya motioned to the barmaid, then looked Tori over. He appeared to be a laborer of some kind—longshoremen or shipwright perhaps—with broad shoulders and thick, calloused hands. The knife at his belt was made to cut rope or wood, not flesh. “Do you work in the shipyards?”
“Yep. Fifteen years now, and not a pot to piss in for my labor. You interested in business, you best take it across the river.”
“Why?” Mya gestured around the homey pub. “This place seems to be doing well.”
“Jemly’s been runnin’ this place long as I can remember, and he ain’t gettin’ rich doin’ it.”
The barmaid arrived and smacked a mug of ale down on the table in front of Tori. “Twopence.” She snatched up the silver half-crown Lad held out, then shifted her glare to Tori. “You be careful, Tori.”
“I don’t need to be careful.” Tori lifted his tankard and took a long pull as she bustled off. “Got nothin’ to lose, so nothin’ to be careful about.” The last he said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Why wouldn’t she want you to talk to us, Tori?” Mya sipped her wine, keeping her tone easy. “It’s not like we’re constables or nobles. We’re just trying to make a living.”
“Livin’s harder than you might think south of the river.” Tori sipped ale, his eyes narrow over the top of his tankard. “And we don’t worry too much about the caps or nobles down here. There’s other worries, though.” He lowered his voice. “You ask Jemly where half his profits go every month.”
“Oh?” Mya raised an eyebrow and shared a look with Lad. That sounded suspiciously like a protection racket, though there was no way to know what organization was running it. She doubted whether the barkeep even knew who he was paying. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a man slinking out the pub door, glancing back at them over his shoulder. She ignored him and turned back to Tori. “So, businesses north of the river don’t have that problem?”
“Don’t know.” Tori drank and frowned. “They got other problems. Up there, you got the nobles up your ass every turn, and the caps bustin’ your head if you so much as look at one of ’em wrong. Ain’t no good place to earn a livin’ here.”
“Why stay, then?” Lad asked.
“Where the hell would I go?” Tori shrugged massive shoulders and stared into his ale. “Been here my whole life. Born here, lived here, and I’ll die here.”
“Seems like Tsing’s a hard place to do business.”
“Anyplace else easier?” Tori looked at Mya dubiously. “None I heard of are. If it’s not nobles and constables, it’s thugs. Same everywhere.”
“That’s enough, Tori.” The barkeep rounded the end of the bar, his face a mask of hard lines, and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’ve said enough.”
“Oh le’me alone, Jemly. I’m not hurtin’ nobody.” Tori lifted his tankard, but Jemly took it from his grasp with surprising ease.
“And you’ve drunk too much. Your mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.”
“We’re just talking. What’s the harm in talking?” Lad protested.
Jemly turned his glare on Lad and Mya, but fear lurked beneath his hard mien. “I don’t know you. You dress like cutthroats and ask too many questions. I want you outta my place now.”
“We’re not causing any trouble, and I don’t see why—”
Lad’s hand closed on Mya’s arm, cutting off her protest with a hard squeeze. “We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We’ll leave.” Lad stood, and Mya reluctantly pushed back her chair.
Hard gazes followed them out, the friendly pub atmosphere stifled by a few simple questions. Crossing the street, they stopped to talk.
Mya let out a gusty breath. “Well, that explains some things. It sounds like the nobles have a stranglehold on everything north of the river, and the guilds and gangs have the same south of the river. No wonder everyone’s afraid.”
“Yes, but why does the emperor tolerate it? Something still doesn’t make sense.” Lad shook his head, his brow furrowed. “The guild probably pays off the constables to keep their noses out of guild business, but they can’t pay off the military. Why doesn’t the emperor use soldiers to clean up the Dreggars Quarter and Downwinds?”
“Why hasn’t Mir cleaned up The Sprawls?” Mya shrugged. “Probably not worth it. The wealthy use the poor as cheap labor to make money. The poor need somewhere cheap to live. Clean up the neighborhood and rent goes up. Labor costs go up, profits go down, and with them tax revenues. The wealthy lose money, and the empire loses money, so where’s the incentive? It’s simple economics.” Mya looked around uneasily as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “I think we should go.”
“We might ask some more questions if—” Lad stopped and cocked his head. “There’s someone—”
“I think you’ve asked enough questions.” A man stepped out from the shadowed alley in front of them.
Shit! Mya had only been listening for the obvious racket of constables, not the subtle noises of lurkers in hiding. Behind them, a boot scuffed stone, then another. Whoever these people were, they were trained in stealth. That became even more obvious as three more figures stepped out of the shadows ahead.
“What’s the harm in asking questions?” Lad’s query drew a dry chuckle from the speaker’s throat.
“Last person to ask me that question stopped breathing all of the sudden.” His hand fingered the hilt of a dagger at his belt. “Horrible tragedy.”
“Who are you?” Mya asked, gauging the figures emerging from the shadows.
“Another unwelcome question,” said a man behind them. Steel wisped against leather as a dagger left its sheath. “Curiosity killed the cat, they say.”
“Good thing we’re not cats.” She immediately regretted the reflexive quip. This could go wrong too easily.
“You got a smart mouth.” The leader shifted his attention to Lad. “You need to shut her up.”
“If you figure out how to do that, let me know.” Lad shot Mya a wry look, and she gaped at him.
A joke from Lad? A frisson tingled up Mya’s spine. Lad wasn’t afraid, and these thugs were used to being feared. All right then. If that’s how he wants to play this… “Three behind and four in front? You think you need so many to shut me up?”
“I know exactly how to shut you up.” The leader drew the dagger he’d been fondling. “And I know exactly how to keep you from asking any more questions.”
“We don’t want trouble.” Lad eased into a ready stance.
“We don’t?” Mya flashed a dangerous grin and turned her back to Lad, her shoulder blades brushing his. “Can’t we have a little trouble?”
“No trouble. Now, who do you work for and what’s your territory?”
“You’ve already found trouble.” The leader of the thugs snapped his fingers, and his people fanned out, circling the pair of assassins. “The only question now is how much pain you need to shut you up.”
“You don’t want to try that, friend.” Lad shifted. She could feel his heightened readiness like a high-pitched vibration up her spine. Long nights of practice had attuned her to his every move. She shifted to accomm
odate his stance. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m not your friend. Your questions aren’t welcome here, and neither are you.”
“Our first night in Tsing, and we’ve already worn out our welcome.” Mya tsked as she gauged the three people facing her: one man with a staff, and a man and a woman holding daggers. Mya licked her lips, and decided which would be the first to die. Staff man. He’s got reach, and he’ll use it.
“Don’t kill anyone, Mya.”
Lad’s order caught her off guard. He sounded serious.
“Why not?” She rose onto the balls of her feet, the energy of her runes humming beneath her skin.
“Because they can’t answer our questions if they’re dead.” Lad shifted left, and she moved with him. This brought one more foe into Mya’s range, a woman with a chain locked to her wrist, a spiked ball dangling from the end.
Her first, then… “We’re still asking questions?” This fight would be a lot harder without killing. Her opponents stopped, shifted positions, and advanced again, chain woman now between the dagger wielders.
“Please, Mya.”
“Fine.” Chain woman began spinning her weapon in a figure eight. “Ruin my fun.”
The attacks came in a flurry of steel and wood.
The thugs were good, well trained and used to fighting together, but they had never faced anything like Lad or Mya. Staff and chain came at Mya simultaneously, hardwood whirling down at her head and steel lashing up at her groin. She caught the end of the staff in one hand, and used its momentum to flip sideways so the spiked ball missed her hip by an inch. Snatching the chain, she jerked hard, at the same time snapping the staff in half with her foot. Staff man stumbled back, and chain woman was pulled forward. Mya cracked the broken end of the staff across the bridge of chain woman’s nose. When Mya’s feet touched back down, chain woman landed flat on her back, out cold, her face a mass of blood.
One down.
A concussion from behind Mya shivered her spine with its force. Only Lad hit that hard. Mya wasn’t surprised to hear a body fall to the ground. Lad’s leg brushed hers, and she moved to guard his flank as he moved to guard hers.
Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) Page 27
