Threading the Needle

by Joshua Palmatier

  Allan paused in his chewing, then swallowed. “We might be able to handle them, with all of us there.”

  Kara caught his arm before he could take another bite. “Could you go inside and pull them out? Like you did with those of us caught after the distortion quickened?”

  “I could. But you know more than anyone how long that took. We don’t have that much time.”

  Kara’s arm dropped. “Then we’ll have to face the Wolves.”

  “Not right away.” Allan forged on as Kara drew breath to protest. “We should get all of our supplies first, then free those people right before we leave. There’s no reason to free them now and have them hanging around the safe house the entire time. They’ve been trapped in the distortion for months, a few more days won’t matter.”

  “Is that how long we’ll stay? A few more days?”

  “I don’t want to stay much longer.” Allan took another bite, rising so that he could wash the plate using the small barrel they’d rigged to collect rain.

  Kara suddenly appeared at his side. “What were you discussing with Glenn and Aaron?”

  “I should have known you wouldn’t let that drop.” He kept his voice low, like Kara’s, although he could hear the other Wielders arguing behind them and didn’t think they’d overhear regardless. “Before scouting out some of the shards, I checked up on the River Rats. They’re more organized now, and more dangerous. I saw them kill five Temerite guards after interrogating them.”

  “What were they trying to find out?”

  “Do you think I was close enough to hear? I have no idea.”

  Kara considered in silence, turning so she could lean up against the wall.

  “I didn’t think the others needed to know. I’ve sent Glenn and Aaron out to find us another safe house, somewhere farther west, away from whatever’s happening between the River Rats and the Temerites.”

  “I’ll tell the Wielders that we’re moving.”

  “I’ll have Gaven and Aaron begin packing up the wagon. Then we should all get some rest. It will be a long night.”

  Grant stalked forward through the bright sunlight toward the chunk of distortion that remained in the center of the street. Two of his Wolves padded along beside him. He halted in front of the shards, stared in at the Wolves trapped inside chasing after the cart. He reached forward and set his hand flat against the nearest facet, his fingers stained with the blood of those they’d hunted the night before. The group had encroached on their territory, had set traps in the streets to the northwest. His scouts had scented them two days before. They’d smelled of blood and fur and rendered fat, carried pelts of rabbit and fox from the plains.

  But they’d wanted something more.

  He and his pack had watched them settle into a burned-out husk of a building near West Forks and Tannery Row, but had hung back, wary of their blades and skinning knives. But when they’d begun setting the wire traps with the steel jaws—

  Grant’s lip curled, revealing an enlarged canine. The fur along one cheek bristled. He did not tolerate hunters, especially those that reeked of the White Cloaks.

  One of his Wolves—Drayden—whined in query, picking up on his tension. He pushed back from the shard, leaving a bloody handprint, and glanced around the surrounding street and park. A stiff breeze ruffled his fur, rustled in the newly released trees of the nearby park.

  “They released this entire area from the distortion?”

  Drayden huffed in answer, then nosed the distortion where their brethren were trapped.

  “But they left these shards intact.”

  A curt bark, followed by another questioning whine.

  Grant didn’t respond. He didn’t know why the shards had been left. The White Cloaks would have collapsed them, killing the Wolves inside. But that would have killed the family as well. Perhaps they’d hesitated because of that.

  Or perhaps they weren’t White Cloaks after all, even though they could open the shards. They did not carry their stench.

  He glanced around one more time, still uncertain. A howl rose in the distance, and both of his Wolves’ ears perked up. Grant snarled. “Rats.” They’d grown bolder in the last month, craftier.

  He placed a hand on Drayden’s head. “Stay and watch.”

  Drayden sighed in complaint.

  Grant ignored him, setting off to the east with a piercing whistle, three other Wolves joining him as he crossed the square.

  Time to root some Rats out of their tunnels.

  As soon as Glenn and Adder stepped into the room an hour or so before dusk, Allan asked, “Did you find something?”

  Glenn and Adder reached gratefully for the hot mugs Gaven and Aaron provided.

  “I found something on the far side of Tinker, close to where the fire from West Forks spread.” Glenn described the location in greater detail between taking sips, so that the others could find the area if necessary. “It’s not as secure as our other safe houses, but it’s farther away from the Rats, and we’ll be able to see anyone approaching through the burned-out section of the city easily.”

  “Run into anyone while you were out?”

  “No. Although we heard the Wolves hunting. I would have sworn we were being watched.”

  Artras snorted. “No matter where we go, I feel like I’m being watched.”

  Allan motioned toward Gaven and the others. “We’re ready. Lead the way.”

  Gaven and Aaron toted the last of the supplies down to the wagon, Gaven climbing into the driver’s seat. Glenn joined him, while Adder crawled into the back and lay down, pulling a blanket over himself. Within twenty minutes, they edged out of the alley leading to the safe house and onto the main street.

  In daylight, the city appeared more desolate than at night. They cut through Tinker, heading west for ten blocks before Glenn motioned toward the south again. Cutter and Jack ranged to either side, one or the other reporting back to Gaven about obstructions in the streets or where buildings had collapsed, making it easier for the Rats to see them. They cut through a few side streets to stay hidden as they neared the open area surrounding the ley station.

  As they drew closer, Kara approached Allan’s position ahead of the wagon, the Wielders grouped behind. He turned when he heard her footfalls on the cobbles. “What is it?”

  Kara’s attention was fixed on the ley station a block away, as they passed an alley and it became visible for a brief moment. “Something’s different. We came this way last night, to investigate the node. We passed through this neighborhood. But it felt deserted then, completely empty. Now it feels like someone’s here.”

  “Watching us?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s not empty anymore.”

  Before Allan could answer, a sharp whistle cut through the quiet. Allan’s head jerked upward, to where Jack leaned over the rooftop of an adjacent building, frantically motioning toward the east. Allan brought his hand up, halting the wagon. Behind, the Wielders began to murmur, stepping to either side in search of Kara. Adder’s head popped up out of the back, the blanket slipping off his shoulders, already reaching for his sword.

  They’d halted at the mouth of another side street looking out on the ley station. The prickle on Allan’s neck became a crawling sensation.

  He spun toward Gaven and Kara. “Find someplace to hide. Now!”

  “What is it?” Kara began to frantically search the street they were on.

  Allan didn’t answer. Jack suddenly appeared on the street, racing down the short stairs of one of the three-story brownstones that lined either side. None of them had entrances at street level large enough to fit the horses and wagon through. The alleys they’d passed were narrow, with no access to inner rooms like the loading dock they’d used last night.

  Allan swore as Adder dropped to the ground from the back of the wagon and Jack ran up to Allan’s side. �
�Report.”

  “A large group of Rats, headed this way.”

  “Did they see us?”

  “I can’t tell. But they’re moving fast.”

  Allan swore.

  “What in hells—”

  Everyone turned at Glenn’s shocked exclamation.

  He pointed toward the ley station. “Where did they come from?”

  Allan expected to see Wolves, perhaps even the Temerites—

  But instead, an entirely new group poured from the doors of the ley station, whooping and hollering as they charged out into the surrounding open area carrying bows and spears and other assorted weapons, all lit with the eerie half-light thrown by the distortion and the dusky sunlight. A flock of birds took sudden flight from the station’s colonnaded portico, a shifting mass of black rising into the darkening sky. More and more of the new group filled the wide stairs, spilling out onto the surrounding streets.

  “Where are they coming from?”

  Kara looked shocked. “The tunnels. The barge tunnels that connected the ley stations between the districts. They’re coming up from underground.”

  “But the ley—”

  “There is no ley! Tinker has been sealed off!”

  Allan cut off any of the others’ responses. “It doesn’t matter. They haven’t seen us yet. Gaven, Aaron, get the wagon into that alley, as far back as you can, then unhitch the horses and drag them inside the building. If you get the chance, grab some of the supplies as well, in case someone notices the wagon.”

  Gaven was already moving, Aaron leaping ahead to clear anything blocking the alley. Allan turned toward the rest. “Everyone else, cover the wagon, make it look like debris, then get inside as well. Dogs, secure the building. Jack, to the roof. Where the hell is Cutter?”

  No one answered, everyone scrambling as the cacophony from the square rose even higher. Allan glanced toward the rooftops but didn’t see Cutter anywhere. Gaze falling to the ley station, he noticed some of the group were beginning to erect barricades.

  He helped push the wagon over some obstacle in the alley—a small heap of stones and a clutter of garbage—then guarded the entrance, keeping his eye on the distortion-lit street to either side, searching the thrown shadows. The Dogs snapped calls to each other in the building to the left as they passed from room to room. Behind, the Wielders were helping Gaven and Aaron with the supplies, the Hollowers working frantically to unhitch the horses. One of the animals whinnied in protest, and Allan glared at the street leading toward the station. His hand fell to the pommel of his sword, but no one appeared. The bellows from those at the station must have drowned out the horse.

  He flinched when someone charged out of a building on the opposite side of the street four doors down, and had his sword half-drawn before he recognized Cutter. The tracker angled toward Allan’s position, running flat out, making hand gestures Allan couldn’t interpret, not in the half-light.

  Then he realized they were frantic attempts to get Allan and the rest out of sight.

  He spun toward the Wielders and the wagon. “Get inside now.” When Kara reached for another pack, he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the building. “Leave it! Go, go, go!”

  He herded everyone toward a side entrance, grateful that the horses were already inside. Cutter skidded to a halt beside him.

  “The Rats are almost here. They’re going to pour down this street in a matter of moments. We’re caught in some kind of territorial dispute.”

  Allan scanned the wagon. The Wielders had piled some scattered debris over its back end, but it still stood out. Too clean, too whole.

  A raucous shout went up, echoing down the street behind them, taunting and vicious.

  “Time’s up.” He pushed Cutter toward the side entrance, then ducked through the door with a last glance down the alley. River Rats began flooding the street, racing past, their attention on the buildings facing the station. They leaped up the steps of the brownstones, through the doors. Moments later, he caught sight of them on the roofs above and hoped Jack was keeping out of sight. Even more rushed into the street leading to the open area around the ley station.

  Then Allan closed the door.

  Everyone but Jack and two of the Dogs had crammed into a storage area, including the horses. Allan scanned the group in the darkness broken only by the window in the door, then worked his way toward Adder, Cutter following behind.

  “Where’s Glenn?”

  “Watching the front.”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “We’ve holed up in some rich bastard’s house. We’re in the servant quarters right now. Nothing much is left in the rest of the house, mostly empty rooms. Jack’s on the roof. Kent’s watching the back, which leads to some kind of walled-in garden.”

  “Can we get to the adjacent buildings? Through the garden to the houses on the next street over?”

  “There’s no gate in the garden, but we could climb the walls. We’d have to abandon the horses and the wagon.”

  “I’m not ready to do that yet. Can we spread out into the other rooms?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good. Stay here and watch the horses and the door.”

  “I’ll go check on Jack,” Cutter said, slipping away.

  Allan found Kara next.

  “What’s happening?” The rest of the Wielders crowded her.

  “We’ve stumbled into some kind of war between the Rats and these Tunnelers. I’m hoping they keep each other distracted enough we aren’t noticed. If they find us, we’re going out the back.”

  “What about the wagon and the rest of the supplies?”

  “We leave it all behind. The horses, too.”

  Glances were shared, but no one said anything.

  “I made certain we grabbed most of the medicine.” Kara patted a satchel. “But we didn’t get much of the food.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. For now, settle in, but be ready to move if the Rats find us.”

  They began gathering up what packs they’d pulled from the wagon. Allan hesitated a moment, then stepped out of the pantry and into the rest of the house.

  Even in the darkness, Allan could tell it would once have been considered opulent, with hardwood floors, elegant woodworking along the moldings at the ceiling and floor and along the banister of the stairs, fine glass in the windows. Now it was covered in dust and dirt, the furniture gone, a few tapestries torn and crumpled on the floor among broken statuettes, pottery, and a few smaller nightstands or pedestals. Glass shards littered one hallway, crunching beneath Allan’s feet as he made his way toward the front in search of Glenn.

  He found the Dog hovering beside a large bay window. Outside, the street roiled with Rats, the scraggly and ragged group amassing in the alley leading toward the ley station. Stragglers, armed with rough weapons like cudgels and staves, tried to shove forward through the ranks, all of them yelling out inarticulate battle cries. All of those who had serious weapons, like spears or bows, were at the front of the pack and out of sight. Those Allan could see were younger as well, maybe ten years old. He assumed the older Rats kept the better weapons.

  “They haven’t noticed us yet.” Glenn glanced back. “But they will. Once they’re done fighting. It’s too much to hope they won’t.”

  “Maybe the fighting will draw them away from this street.”

  Glenn merely grunted.

  “Keep watch. Yell if there’s trouble.”

  “There’s already trouble.”

  Allan retreated to the back of the house, found Kent watching the walled-in gardens beyond with sword drawn. Allan had expected an actual garden, with vegetables and herbs, like what he’d seen behind nearly every row of flats and apartment buildings in Erenthrall before the Shattering. But this was an ornamental garden, stone paths weaving among benche
s, small ponds, a dry stone waterfall. A few trees still remained, survivors of the blast that had destroyed the central part of the city, but they’d taken a beating. Branches had snapped off, but leaves had budded out on the skeletal remains. Some of the bushes beneath were already full, their leaves rustling in a breeze.

  He scanned the walls. A few trellises were placed against the back, the latticework reaching all the way to the top, interlaced with vines and foliage. He didn’t see a door.

  Beyond the wall, the backs of more brownstone houses cut off the view, their details obscured by shadows.

  “Why would they not have a door? Even if only for the servants.”

  “At least there are trellises.”

  From the street out front, a roar rose. Both men turned.

  “The fighting has started,” Kent muttered.

  Allan placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to start sending the rest back here. We need to be ready in case they discover us. If they do, send them over the wall and try to keep them all together.”

  “Where should we head?”

  “To the new safe house, if you can manage it. Otherwise, back out onto the plains toward the Hollow.”

  Allan found Kara and the others huddled in the large dining room, the massive table still filling up the center of the room, the crystal chandelier a shattered heap of ley globes and twisted metal where it had fallen in one of the quakes. Kara and the rest were rooting through what supplies they’d managed to pull from the wagon before the Rats arrived.

  “Get everything together. I want everyone to move toward the back of the house, near Kent’s position.”

  “I thought we were hunkering down until the Rats left.”

  “I don’t like how this is playing out. I want you all ready to run.”

  Fear flashed across all of their faces, but they began gathering up the supplies again.

  Kara shifted toward him and said under her breath, “We have a problem. We didn’t grab as much food as I thought we did.”

  “We can’t do anything about that.”