The Broken Man

by Brandon Jones

  “So, what is it doing here?” Tori repeated, real panic in her voice now.

  Josen pulled out the frame—at least the piece of it still in his hand. He hadn’t pushed hard, but the frame had broken into half a dozen pieces. He hadn’t even felt it break; it was just suddenly… not whole.

  “It was a setup,” said Akelle. “Get a fire going in the hearth quick, big and hot as you can. Anything on the hearth not already in Josen’s bag goes into the fire. We need to be gone in five minutes.”

  “A setup?” Tori asked, still dazed.

  “Someone set us up!” Akelle yelled. “The fire, Tori. Now!”

  Tori seemed to shake herself, ducking under the mantel to get to work.

  Josen barely paid attention. He looked up just in time to see the porcelain kettle burst apart with a soft pop, pieces crumbling and scattering across the mantel, clattering onto the floor.

  What the… Josen felt the weight shift inside the satchel, caught movement out of the corner of his eye as one of the chairs fell apart.

  “We need to be gone now!” Josen yelled, realization dawning. “Right now!”

  Tori and Akelle turned to look at him, alarmed and confused. A loud crack and the scraping wood were the only warning as the mantel swung loose. Tori never saw it coming. The heavy wood crashed into back of her head. She collapsed in a heap, unconscious even before her head bounced off the hardwood floor.

  Josen rushed to her, the little room full of the sounds of destruction as everything in it seemed to come apart at the same time. “Get the robe,” Josen said, settling Tori’s limp body in his arms. It felt like she was still breathing. “We’ve got to go.”

  “You want to bring it with us?” Akelle asked.

  “You want to leave it here?”

  Akelle hesitated, then picked up the box as the table shattered to pieces beneath it.

  They sprinted out the door, now hanging wildly on its hinges, moving as fast as they could manage through thickening crowds with Josen carrying Tori. They slowed to a walk only when they were out of sight of their building. At first opportunity they ducked into a quiet looking alley and collapsed.

  “What … in all the starving hells,” Akelle asked, between gasps.

  “Reversion,” Josen said, taking deep breaths of his own. He laid Tori on the ground and examined her head. Part of her hair was matted with blood, but it didn’t seem to be bleeding freely. It didn’t look too serious, but it was hard to tell with head wounds. She needed a bed, not to toted through the city as Josen and Akelle ran for their lives.

  “That’s not how reversion works,” Akelle said. “Things don’t burst apart when they revert. They just change back.”

  “I know, I know.” Josen opened his mouth to say more but found nothing. He shook his head. He couldn’t think straight right now. “I mean, I kind of know. We can figure it out later. It was redhands though.”

  Akelle swore loudly.

  “Great. What starving hells are we going to do then?” Akelle asked when he finished profaning. “Someone is trying to kill us.”

  “If they wanted to kill us, they could have been waiting in the apartment. They could have killed us the moment we walked through the door, a couple of knives to the back. Or even a pair of wheel locks,” Josen said.

  “Pistols? God’s tears, Josen, who do you think we’re dealing with?” No one but select Ladies of the Archon and the Protectors were legally authorized to so much as look sideways at a gun. The penalties for breaking that particular law were so harsh that guns weren’t worth the risk for most criminals.

  “Someone willing to use redhands to scare us,” Josen replied.

  “That sounds worse.”

  Josen nodded. “We have to get Tori someplace safe. The Right Corner. Beliebe will take good care of her. Then… Chessia, I guess. No one is looking to kill us there,” Josen said, though the list of cities where that was true was vanishingly short.

  “Because Hassib fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck, but Josen—”

  “Fine. No one is looking to kill us in Chessia anymore.”

  “Josen, I’m not going to Chessia.”

  “Why not? Con work is harder there, but we’ll manage. The food is cheaper, at least—”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Look, Chessia’s not my first choice either, but I don’t think we have a lot of—”

  “Josen!” Akelle said, stopping so Josen had to turn back around to face his friend. “You’re not listening! I’m not going to Chessia. All we ever do is run. From the first day we met. Every time things start to go bad, we run—”

  “Because we can,” Josen said. “Not everyone has the option to pick up and switch cities if they need to. This is bad, Akelle. Really bad. I don’t know if this is Aboran trying to send a message, or someone else making a power grab, but our best option is to disappear.”

  Akelle shook his head. “I can’t do it again. I won’t. I won’t be chased from place to place every time we get scared.”

  “Why not? We’ve run lots of times for smaller reasons than this.”

  “And I’m tired of it.” Akelle just looked at Josen, who just stared back. “We’ve got a good thing going here, the best we’ve ever managed. You can do what you want. I’m staying.”

  Josen clenched his jaw. “What then?”

  “Saul,” Akelle said. “We find Saul. He’ll know what to do.”

  * * *

  Saul wasn’t the kind of person whose doorstep you could just show up on. For that matter, Josen had no idea where Saul’s doorstep might be. It was safer that way, for everyone. But it sure complicated Josen’s life right now.

  The energy from running for his life was beginning to wear off as Josen rented a room and left Tori there. Beliebe promised to check in on her every so often. Hopefully Tori would wake up soon and wouldn’t do anything too rash when that happened in a strange place. Josen stashed the robe and emergency supplies in the room, and he and Akelle left to try to track down Saul. They both needed sleep, but they needed to make sure they were safe first.

  The problem was, they weren’t sure where to go—not exactly at least. He knew most of Saul’s thugs hung out in Lyondell quarter, but that didn’t mean Saul would be there. Wandering the city hoping to find Saul was far from a brilliant plan, but it was the best he had at the moment.

  “So, care to explain what you think happened back there?” Akelle asked as they pushed their way through a full-fledged morning crowd.

  Josen sighed tossed a small coin at a street vendor as they passed, grabbing a small, flat ceral roll for himself and Akelle. He needed to get some food in him, even if it was ceral. How could people live off this stuff? Probably not by choice, but the Church subsidized grain was so cheap it was all most people could afford to feed their families. Josen didn’t like it—it didn’t do anything to actually feed him and tasted like dirt, but he might need it.

  “It’s called ‘remaking,’” Josen said. “In theory, a person with rub in their system can break an object—one that’s been dismantled or shattered—back into its whole form.”

  “In theory?”

  Josen shrugged. “I’ve never looked into it. I didn’t see how it could be useful. Why go to all the trouble of breaking something back together if it’s just going to fall back apart when it reverts?”

  Akelle that mulled over in silence for a moment. “Redhands, then—you’re sure?”

  Josen nodded. “And they’re good. Everything reverted in under a minute. That takes precision.”

  “Better than you?”

  “I couldn’t do anything like that on my best day. Not even close.”

  “So, someone has his finger on us, he’s pissed, powerful and has a talented redhand on a leash?”

  “Or two or three,” Josen said, eliciting an impressive string of profanity from Akelle.

  “Great. Starving great.”

  “Chessia is still an option.”

  “Shut u
p.”

  The two of them had barely set foot in Lyondell when Josen heard someone call his name. He tensed as he turned, fear rising in the back of his throat even as his hand moved to the knife he kept under his shirt. Someone was following them. Of course someone was following them. How had he not even considered…

  But as he turned, he saw Saul pushing his way through the packed street toward him. The concern in his eyes surprised Josen. On Saul’s normally impassive face, it looked almost like panic.

  “Saul!” Josen said, relieved.

  “Josen! God’s tears, boy, what are you doing?” Saul said, grabbing Josen by the arm and towing him into a nearby shop. Akelle hurried close behind.

  “What the…” Josen started, but Saul didn’t give him the chance.

  “Quiet,” Saul said, voice harsh as he shut the door and locked it. The store was empty save for a man standing behind a desk. He looked less surprised than Josen would have imagined, considering the circumstances. “Kessel, take the afternoon off.” Saul tossed the man a small money pouch, barely even looking in his direction.

  “Yes sir,” Kessel said. He stood up and walked out what must have been a back door without another word.

  “Wait, who was that?” Josen asked, reeling. They were in, what, a weaver’s shop? At least, that’s what it looked like to Josen’s admittedly inexperienced eye. A bag of money and he just … leaves? No questions? Josen barely had time to wonder at the scene before Saul rounded on him, concerned lines on his face turned angry.

  “What were you thinking?” Saul asked, each word slow and deliberate. “You and Akelle are wandering the streets after the debacle last night? And your apartment—” Akelle shrunk back into a corner looking like he wanted to disappear, but Saul took no notice of him.

  “We were trying to find you,” Josen said. “We didn’t know what else to do—”

  “Keep your bleeding hands in your pockets! God’s tears…” Saul trailed off and closed his eyes. He took a few slow, calming breaths before continuing. “What about Tori?”

  “Hurt, but safe. We left her at an inn in the Mercantile district, the Right Corner. I know the inkeep there. He’ll take good care of her.”

  Saul nodded. “There’s that, at least.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” Josen said. “Everything seemed to go so well, exactly according to plan. I can’t imagine Shep would sell us out, but … the robe was sitting on my table less than half an hour after I made the drop.”

  Saul shook his head. “Shep’s dead, son.”

  Josen felt a sick, heavy lump of surprise and fear drop out of his chest.

  “Some kids playing tag in the Circle this morning found … pieces of him stuffed under the Round.”

  Josen’s mouth dropped open, tongue working at the bitter nothing that filled his mouth.

  “I don’t know what happened either,” Saul said, “but I have fires I need to try to douse or redirect.” He walked toward the door Kessel had used moments before. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” And he was gone.

  “So… Still no introduction for me?” Akelle asked.

  Josen ignored him.

  Chapter 7

  With nothing to do but wait for Saul to return, Akelle curled up in a corner and fell asleep immediately. Josen couldn’t blame him. He wished he could do the same, but Josen couldn’t have slept if he tried. Dozens of questions buzzed through Josen’s head as he sat there, waiting for Saul to return. Was Saul angry with him? Had he even done anything wrong, or was he just the most convenient pawn in someone’s agenda? How did Saul plan on fixing any of this?

  What am I still doing here?

  That thought ran rampant through his exhausted mind, crashing through and trampling the underbrush of his thoughts until there was nothing left. Josen’s response was always to run any time trouble came close enough to press a knife to the back of his ribs. Usually he didn’t let it get even that close. The instinct had served him well so far—he was still alive, wasn’t he?

  But maybe Akelle was right. Josen left home almost six years ago, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing to speak of—a wake of fantastic failures from the rice paddies of Kendai to Jurdon’s Light Guilds—a string of bad decisions and worse luck, riches and glory that slipped through his hands time after time.

  And still no name. What would Grandpa Markise think of him now? Another petty crook just managing to scrape by. The Broken Man wasn’t on anyone’s lips. There was nothing noble in running, nothing worth admiring. No, Akelle was right. It was time to stand his ground, to do something with this life he had chosen—which depended on somehow managing to live through whatever else this day decided to throw at him.

  Saul didn’t make them wait long. He returned less than half an hour after leaving and shepherded them out the back entrance. Josen tried to ask questions as the wound their way through back alleys and side streets, but Saul silenced him with a wave. He was approached by several different people Josen didn’t recognize. They brought notes and Saul whispered his replies, always too low for Josen to hear, and Saul felt no need to make an explanation.

  After what felt like an eternity, Saul came to a stop, though for no reason Josen could see. The alley they were in looked more or less like a dozen they had crept through already. But Saul apparently felt safe here.

  “Boy, you sure know how to make a mess of things,” Saul said, turning to face them.

  Josen didn’t know how to reply, but Saul didn’t seem to expect one.

  “One of the Parose’s house staff, an assistant butler named Tomas, reported witnessing a burglary at the Parose house last night. The Ladies are out looking for the thief.”

  Josen cringed. So much for Thomas being too afraid to say anything.

  “That was sloppy,” Saul continued, “but we can worry about that later. Since the burglary directly involves the Church, the Protectors have been called in as well.”

  “Bleeding hells,” Akelle said.

  Josen silently agreed. Protectors were effectively outside the law and could be as dangerous as an asp in a boot if they were even mildly competent. But that wasn’t Josen’s real worry.

  “That doesn’t explain what happened at the apartment this morning,” Josen said. “The Church doesn’t use redhands, at least not that I’ve ever heard of.”

  “No,” Saul said.

  “Fantastic,” Akelle said. “We’re not only running from the Ladies and the Protectors, but also some unknown, redhand-toting maniac phantom?”

  Saul gave Akelle a strange look, as if he had only just noticed him, before turning back to Josen.

  “I don’t know what it means either,” Saul said, “but it’s bad. You, Tori, and the kid need somewhere better than the Right Corner to wait this out, whatever the starving hells it is. I have a safe house in Sefti. You can use that until things cool off here.”

  Akelle looked miffed at being referred to as “the kid,” but Josen just nodded.

  “Which means we need to fetch Tori,” Saul said. He motioned for them to follow him to the mouth of the alley. Josen looked out of the shadow of the close-set buildings and recognized for the first time where they were. They were less than half a block from the Right Corner, close enough that Josen could have thrown a rock onto the roof with ease, but it might as well have been on the other side of the city.

  “Bleeding hands,” Akelle swore.

  “Right,” Josen agreed.

  The building was engulfed in a sea of people—a crowded street of curious onlookers, and Archon Ladies calmly holding them at bay. Two more Ladies appeared in the doorway of the inn talking animatedly. They came to some kind of a decision, and one of them disappeared back inside while the other addressed those holding the crowd at bay. Tori was nowhere to be seen. Josen didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  He took an instinctive step towards the building. Josen didn’t have a plan, but Tori was in there and needed his help. Saul reached out and stopped him with a hand.
Josen turned back angrily, ready to tell Saul to let him go, to let him try to clean up his mess, but the words dried up at the look in Saul’s eyes.

  Saul surveyed the scene thoughtfully, letting it wash over him, as calm as still waters. “I hoped for a quieter scene,” Saul said, almost to himself. “But at least the Protectors haven’t shown up yet.” He took a deep breath, then turned back to Josen, the faraway look replaced by hard determination.

  “I’ve called in half a dozen favors and I-owe-yous for this. You,” Saul said, pointing at Josen’s chest, “are exhausted, stressed, and in no shape to do anything but watch.” Josen opened his mouth to protest, but Saul pressed a slim wallet into Josen’s hand without pausing. “Better yet, don’t even watch. Here’s a note for fifty heavy silver, Passage to Sefti, and the address of a safe house there. Lay low. Tori and I will meet you there in a day or two.”

  Josen reeled. It was beyond generous. “Why?” he asked, unable to summon anything more eloquent at as he pocketed the wallet. The favors, the money, the Passage. Saul was going to enormous and expensive lengths to fix Josen’s mess. The thought bathed Josen in relief. There was an end in sight to this miserable, bizarre day.

  Saul grinned a knowing grin. “An investment. You’ll see soon enough. Now please, don’t do anything stupid. I have things as under control as they can be. I’ll be in touch. Got it?”

  Josen nodded.

  Saul turned, an almost childlike grin on his face, and walked toward the Right Corner. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time,” he said so soft Josen almost didn’t hear. “Should be fun.”

  Akelle nudged Josen just as Saul disappeared into the crowd surrounding the inn. “Come on, Josen. You heard him. There’s nothing we can do to help. Let’s get out of here.”

  Josen nodded grudgingly and turned to head back into the alley, still reeling at the course of events, when someone bowled right over him. The pair of them were knocked the ground, tumbling out of the alleyway and into the street.

  “Hey,” Josen said, Akelle helping him back to his feet. “Watch where you’re going! Starving idiot.”