by Posey, Jay
Haiku held out a hand before him, and Wren started walking.
“I’m glad I caught up with you,” Wren said. “I was afraid I might not be able to find you.”
“I’m glad too,” Haiku answered. “We’re both fortunate.” He didn’t mention anything about having deliberately slowed his pace on his way out of the city, for just such an occasion.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?” Wren asked.
“North for a while,” Haiku said. “Then east.”
“East?” Wren said. Haiku nodded. “Back towards the Strand?”
“Don’t worry about that now, Wren,” Haiku said. “We’ve many miles to go before we reach that point. Who can say what might happen between now and then?”
“I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”
“Good,” Haiku said. “That will help you keep your eyes open and your wits about you, then.”
Haiku walked with Wren just at his side, watched the boy’s gait for a while, and adjusted his pace and stride to one that he was confident Wren could maintain for the time being. The boy would need all his energy once they got into the open. As they made their way through Greenstone’s wild streets, Haiku observed Wren without his notice. In the short walk to the nearest gate, he discerned important facets of Wren’s personality. There was hesitancy there, a tendency to rely on the guidance and direction of others, a complacency towards many of the people and activities that went on around him. Disappointing traits, but not unsurprising given the boy’s age and recent history. Governor or not, he’d always been led, always been watched over, by his mother or his guardians. It showed in the way he carried himself. And yet, there were flashes here and there, marks of intuition or training unrefined. Occasionally the boy’s eyes would linger on a passerby who watched too intently, or would take a second glance at someone changing direction without cause. In none of the cases was any threat presented, and in fact Wren had entirely failed to notice the two men that were actually trailing them. But he was alert and aware, present in the moment more so than most, and that was a start.
Haiku took them towards one of the gates to the west side of the city, avoiding the gate by which he entered the city. Though there was no obvious reason that anyone should have noticed his arrival or cared about his departure, it was nonetheless a valuable habit and one he didn’t mind indulging. They were about fifty feet from the gate when Wren spoke.
“Do you think they’ll follow us outside the city?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the general buzz of the street.
The question caught Haiku off guard, but there was no doubt who Wren had meant.
“I’m not sure,” Haiku answered. “Do you recognize them?”
“No.”
“When did you first notice them?”
“I’m not sure. I think they were outside the Samurai McGann when we came out. I’m not sure if it’s the same people, but I think so.”
Haiku nodded but didn’t change course. They were too close to the gate now and any sudden deviation could alert their new friends.
“In a few more steps, I want you to stop suddenly,” Haiku said. “As if you’ve forgotten something important. As if you want to go back to get it.”
“OK,” Wren said. “Say when.” Another point in the boy’s favor. He didn’t question, wasn’t confused by the request, just fell into the plan and waited for Haiku’s signal.
They continued several more paces towards the gate, and then Haiku dipped his head slightly.
“Now.”
Wren stopped immediately and quickly slapped his hand to his pants pocket. Haiku took two more steps and then turned halfway back, looking to Wren. Rather than focusing on the boy, he let his vision go wide and picked out the shapes of the two men he knew to be following them. Wren patted his pants pockets a few times, and then jammed his hand into his jacket, searching with increasing panic through the many pockets.
“I left it!” he said loudly. “I need to go back!”
“We can’t,” Haiku said, playing the role. “Whatever it is, you don’t need it. Come on.”
“No, I can’t! I really need it!” Haiku appreciated Wren’s commitment. He’d grasped the intent immediately.
Haiku returned to Wren and knelt down in front of him, flicking his eyes first to one side and then to the other, as if in embarrassment at the outburst. In that split second, he’d absorbed all he’d needed. The two men were hanging back and had turned to one side, clumsily attempting to remain inconspicuous. They were trying to look like they were involved in a conversation of their own, but one of them was watching a little too intently out of the corner of his eye. That one had a long brown coat, and from the way he kept his hand in the coat pocket and his arm pressed to his side, Haiku knew he was concealing something long underneath it. A club maybe, or a gun that was something more than a pistol but not quite a long gun.
Haiku bent close to Wren and jabbed a finger in the boy’s chest, as though he were quietly chastising him. But while he made an angry face and spoke through his teeth, he said, “They’ve either got something worked out with the guards at the gate, or they’re going to follow us out.”
Wren nodded.
“I want you to walk a step behind me, like you’re sad, OK? Not too far back, close enough I can reach you if I need to. But let me get a feel for the guards.”
Wren nodded. His eyes were clear, focused. He’d definitely done this sort of thing before. As Haiku stood, he noticed Wren had slipped a hand under his jacket and was keeping it there. He was gripping something near his belt.
Haiku turned and resumed his walk towards the gate. Wren trailed behind as instructed, just behind and slightly to his right, doing his best to play the part of the dejected child. Satisfied, Haiku turned his attention to the two Greenmen standing post at the gate. They kept a casual watch, their eyes roving and resting only lightly on any one person. But Haiku could tell from their posture and demeanor that these were seasoned guardsmen, not to be underestimated.
The Greenman on the left was about Haiku’s height, solidly built and bearded. His companion was taller, leaner, with a harder look. The bearded man’s eyes swept over Haiku once and then came back to meet Haiku’s own gaze. Haiku maintained eye contact as he approached, and the guard’s posture changed. The man stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, dipped his head forward. But to Haiku’s relief, there was no change in the man’s eyes, no dilation of the pupils, no sense of recognition. His eyebrows raised slightly as Haiku and Wren drew near, as if he were expecting a question. And most likely, that was all there was to it. The Greenman was reacting to Haiku’s body language and was simply expecting to be approached and engaged in conversation.
Haiku smiled and inclined his head in greeting.
“Morning, sir,” he said.
“Morning,” the Greenman replied. His lean companion glanced over at the exchange, but resumed his languid watch over the crowds.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Haiku said, extending his hand for a handshake, and slowing his pace. In his palm, Haiku had a nanocarb chip, worth twenty Hard. “But there’s a man in a brown coat who’s been following me this morning. I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about, but when he comes by, would you be kind enough to ask him what he’s got under his coat?” The Greenman, knowing the protocol, shook Haiku’s hand and didn’t miss a beat in the exchange.
“We’re not gonna stop anyone from leaving the city, sir,” the Greenman said. Haiku didn’t stop moving.
“I understand. But if you could just ask, I’d appreciate it.”
The Greenman gave a curt nod as Haiku continued on by, through the gate, and out into the surrounding cityscape. He led Wren to the left out of the gate and once they’d cleared the entrance, he picked up the pace to an easy jog.
“Come quickly, Wren,” he said. His eyes scanned their surroundings as they moved, picking up the angles and lines of sight. They only had a few seconds to find what he was lo
oking for, and he found it in a tumbledown building that may once have been a simple storage shed, now little more than a heap of concrete, rebar, and rust.
“Here, in here,” Haiku said, directing Wren through a hole in one side. Two walls were still mostly standing, and though the roof had completely caved in, there was a pocket of space large enough for them both. Haiku followed and turned back to watch the gate. The angle was sharper than he would have liked, but the vantage was good enough for his purposes. The two men who’d been following them had already passed through the gate, and at first Haiku was disappointed that his twenty Hard had gone to no use. But moments later, the bearded Greenman appeared, calling after them. The man in the brown coat didn’t stop, but his companion glanced back over his shoulder at the guard. The Greenman called to them again, and they stopped. The companion turned fully back to face the guard and did the talking. Browncoat continued to scan the area. He was obviously agitated, searching for any sign or signal that might reveal where their would-be quarry had gone. There was a brief exchange, and the Greenman approached Browncoat with a hand raised in a placating manner. Haiku wondered what story the man was telling.
Browncoat was defensive, but after some back and forth with the Greenman, he finally pulled the coat open and flashed the weapon he’d been conspicuously trying to conceal. Haiku only saw it for an instant, and only in part, but it was enough for his mind to piece together. Not a gun, then. That was enough.
The Greenman nodded and waved the two on, no doubt wishing them a good morning. Browncoat grabbed his companion by the sleeve and dragged him on, headed the direction they’d last seen Haiku and Wren go. For Haiku’s part, he’d felt his choice of hiding place had been too obvious, but speed had been of the utmost essence. Fortunately, there were many low buildings crowded together just outside this side of Greenstone’s wall, creating many possible routes. The two men split up and dashed from one alley to the next, from one avenue to another, each searching wildly for whichever direction their targets had gone. It apparently hadn’t occurred to either man that their potential prey might in fact be hiding instead of fleeing. They had no clue they’d been made.
Haiku considered the options. He had already evaluated the two men, subconsciously, automatically, the long years of training making the process background and nearly instantaneous. But no. He would wait. After two or three minutes, the two men wasted another half minute arguing, and then finally picked a direction and ran off. Haiku gave it another few minutes before he turned to look at Wren. The boy had moved back to the corner of the structure, and was crouched there, perfectly still, perfectly quiet, his eyes fixed intently on Haiku. Again, it was obvious just how used to this sort of situation he seemed to be. Not comfortable exactly, but competent certainly.
“We should be all right,” Haiku said.
Wren nodded. Haiku slipped out of the space first and motioned for Wren to follow. The boy dutifully slipped in behind him without a word. They traveled westward, slipping out farther from the city than Haiku had originally planned to before they turned north. The morning was dry and cold, but the sun warmed pleasantly the blue-greys of their surroundings. It was something of a shock to the senses to return to the open after the vibrant chaos of Greenstone. The dead cityscape that stretched for miles in every direction seemed drained and stagnant by comparison. A colorless wash of jagged shapes, the ancient skeleton of a god long dead. But as they walked together in silence, Haiku felt tension seeping from his back and shoulders, and his mind grew quieter, calmer. His focus, sharper. He’d never much cared for crowds. It was good to be back out on the road, on the move.
* * *
Wren had a thousand questions running through his mind, but he’d been afraid to ask any of them since they’d hidden from the men near the gate. It seemed safest to keep the silence, even though he wasn’t sure if Haiku was wanting it or not. They’d walked a good twenty minutes or so without speaking, with Haiku leading him on a twisting and broken path. The older man changed their pace frequently, sometimes moving casually, other times with urgency and still others stopping altogether. It was an odd, rhythmless way to travel, but Wren had experienced something like it before. Three had had a similar way of moving through the landscape. Though, maybe similar wasn’t quite the right idea. Haiku’s movements, the way he scanned the environment, the broken rhythm, they were uniquely his own. But when taken all together, there was an underlying foundation that the two men shared. Like two painters who had studied under the same master, each unique expressions of another artist’s influence.
Unlike Morningside, where crowds of people had roamed freely outside the wall during the day, Greenstone’s populace seemed hesitant to stray too far out. There wasn’t really much traffic to or from Greenstone even on the busiest of days, but there were even fewer travelers who would brave the winter months in the open. The byways through which they traveled were empty and undisturbed by any signs of recent travel. Every once in a while Wren heard a distant scuffle or scrape, some unknown source of movement that could have been from their pursuers, or from the wind, or merely from his imagination. Haiku seemed unconcerned by them, or at least no more concerned by them than he was by anything else.
“The men in Greenstone,” Haiku said after a time, and Wren jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. He looked up at the man. “Do you have any guess as to who they might have been?”
Wren shook his head. “Not really, no,” he said. “I’d never seen them before.” But a moment later, he added, “Except...” and then trailed off, as something from his subconscious bubbled up. He hadn’t thought about it at all before, and hadn’t even been consciously thinking about it now. But somewhere inside, his mind had done its own work and suddenly presented him with the idea.
“Oh,” he said. “I wonder if they were the Bonefolder’s guys.”
Haiku nodded once, as if he’d already suspected it. Wren wondered if the man had been looking to him for confirmation, or if he’d already known it himself and was merely testing Wren’s observations. It was hard to escape the thought that Haiku had been evaluating everything he did since they first met.
“How far out do you think they’ll continue to look for us?”
“I don’t know,” Wren said. “I don’t know what they wanted.”
“What do you think they wanted?”
Wren was quiet for a few seconds, and then answered, “Me.” Haiku dipped his head again in that same ambiguous gesture. “But I don’t know what for.”
“The Bonefolder has a long memory.”
“You know her?”
“Of her,” Haiku said. “Though it would be difficult not to.”
“Did we lose them?” Wren asked.
“Not exactly,” Haiku answered. Wren felt a wave of anxiety rise up, and he glanced back over his shoulder. He’d thought for sure that the men were nowhere around. “Don’t worry, they’re not following us,” Haiku said. “We’re following them.”
“What?” Wren said. “Why?” He asked the question without really wanting to know the answer.
“How can we be certain to avoid them if we don’t know where they are?” Haiku said. Then he looked down at Wren with a slight smile. “I thought they would have given up by now. Let’s go see what they want.”
Haiku’s pace and posture changed immediately, and he strode forward with a boldness that Wren hadn’t seen from him before. They moved quickly through the alleys and avenues, and Wren had to walk fast with the occasional jogging step to keep up. He couldn’t tell what it was that Haiku was seeing, or how he could possibly know where the other men had gone. But after maybe two minutes Haiku led him out of a narrow lane between two buildings and there, twenty feet away, stood the man in the brown coat and his lanky companion, headed away from them.
“Gentlemen,” Haiku said. The two men were startled by the sound of Haiku’s voice, and they twisted around, searching for the source. They both looked plenty surprised when they saw who had called th
em. Browncoat already had his weapon out from under his coat, the first glimpse Wren had of it. He hadn’t seen anything quite like it before; it was a narrow cylinder, sleek and very dark blue almost to the point of black, and just a little bit shorter than the man’s arm. Browncoat held it towards the end, where it tapered into a grip. A stunstick, maybe, though if so it was bigger than any Wren had seen previously.
“We all seem to be headed the same way,” Haiku said, continuing his approach. Wren trailed along behind him, gradually allowing the distance between them to open up. “Perhaps we should walk together.”
Browncoat and his friend exchanged a look.
“Well yeah,” Browncoat said, and he lowered his weapon to one side, just next to his leg. Not quite hiding it, but maybe trying to make it less conspicuous. “Sure. Where you folks headed?”
“Oh, you know,” Haiku said. “Out that way.” Wren had fallen back about twelve feet behind Haiku, so he couldn’t see his face. But it sounded like he was smiling. He walked right up to the two men, no more than arm’s length away, and stopped.
“Well,” said Browncoat. “You’re welcome to tag along as you like.”
“As long as you’re not headed back to Greenstone,” Haiku said. Browncoat’s friend flicked his eyes to Browncoat, but Browncoat kept his eyes on Haiku and just shook his head. The friend settled back a step, just to Haiku’s right.
“Naw, friend. We’re just leaving there.”
Haiku nodded. “Sure. I just thought maybe you might need to get back to the Bonefolder.”
Browncoat smiled. Wren reached under his coat and drew his knife.
In the next instant, Browncoat’s friend shot forward and wrapped his arm around Haiku’s neck in a chokehold, spun him, and then jerked him backwards. Browncoat whipped his weapon up and held it an inch below Haiku’s chin. The weapon emitted a menacing hum, like a swarm of hornets. It all happened so fast, so smoothly, that Haiku hadn’t even had time to react. He was caught fast between the two of them, his hands by his waist and held out to the sides in surrender. Wren gripped his knife tight in his fist in a reverse grip, the blade along his forearm, and held it down by his side. If they came for him, when they came for him, he didn’t want them to see the knife before they felt it.
