by Jackson Lear
Greaser rang the chime again. Both dogs saw the open door and jolted to attention. Greaser rang again, louder, this one for all it was worth. Lieutenant fired off a spell to silence everything behind the dogs.
One dog barked, both ran, barreling towards the front door and out onto the street, chasing Greaser for all he was worth. I climbed back down to the street, entered the front door, closed it over to prevent the dogs from returning, and headed inside. Lieutenant hauled ass across the roof tops, ten houses down, to help Greaser escape the dogs.
I took a moment to breathe. The house was silent. No grunting, snoring, coughing, or unsheathing of a sword. With the slightest tinkle tinkle tinkle, I poured a decent handful of broken glass a yard in front of the door leading to the laneway. I lit my sprig of Childer’s Kiss, turned to face the rest of the house, and confronted my next dilemma.
Four kids. The eldest was a boy. I figured he would have his own room by now, since Castor had the space for it. That meant I would have three bedrooms in front of me. The birds would soon chirp, the locals would stir. Time was against me.
I crept into the depths of Castor’s house … and froze.
There weren’t any doors, not on the inside of the house at least. Curtains hung over some of the doorways.
I peered into one of the rooms. A double bed. Two people asleep. I poured the rest of the glass in the doorway.
I crept to the door just three feet away from Castor’s. Three beds. All full. They all slept on their sides, curled up. How the hell was I supposed to figure out which one was Día’s age? I didn’t even know Día’s height. Was the one closest to the doorway the eldest, the protector of the room? Or was she the youngest, the one who could get to Mommy and Daddy the quickest?
Either way, it was a fine time to drop the note. Even if I couldn’t get a kid with me, I’d certainly be able to scare them and get Castor fuming over what could’ve been.
‘Her death will live on for decades.’
My pulse drummed through my skull, pressing against my temples. I moved as silently as I could from one bed to the next.
At the foot of each bed were a pair of sandals. The largest belonged to the girl closest to the doorway. I held the stick of Childer’s Kiss in front of her face and did what I could to not breathe. There I remained, waiting, counting through each of her breaths. When she got to ten, I pulled the covers free, dug my arms under her, and lifted her up. She murmured, slowly coming to. I staggered to the atrium, found Lieutenant and Greaser peering over the edge with a mask covering their faces. They each dropped one arm down. I held one of the girl’s arms up and together we got her to the roof.
She started to stir. Far from awake, but conscious enough to question if she was dreaming. Greaser pulled a short blade out and pointed it at her face. “You’re going to want to be quiet, okay?”
I tossed the Childer’s Kiss up so Lieutenant could hold it under her nose until he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to be any trouble.
I waved a, ‘Good luck.’
Greaser nodded a, ‘We’ve got this.’ “See you at the orphanage.” He lifted the girl into his arms and slipped away.
The worst part of plan fell back to me. I had to wait long enough for Lieutenant and Greaser to get the girl far enough away before I could leave. Normally we’d all be gone without a trace at the same time, but not today. For once I had to make a spectacle, something I wasn’t all that comfortable doing.
I started going through whatever I could find in Castor’s house, anything to keep me busy. I tucked a small jar of olive oil and half a loaf of Castor’s bread into my clothes. It wasn’t much but it would do in an emergency. Then came the waiting. An agonizing wait it was, debating between going now or waiting a little longer to give Lieutenant and Greaser more time. Then, at the first chirp of a distant bird, I panicked.
Now. It had to be now.
I had a pouch of soot with me, my fist ready to fling a handful across the room in a haze. I stood beside the missing girl’s bed with my back to the rest of the room. I muttered a growl, even a maniacal laugh as quietly as possible.
Another bird chirped, calling to its friends that a new day was upon them.
I laughed again.
The faintest of gasps broke behind me.
I flung the soot out as fast as I could, high over my head and screamed for the whole world to hear. “TONIGHT SHE DIES!”
Chapter Twenty
My heart nearly exploded as I leapt from one rooftop to the next, trying to disrobe myself from the Eyeless Ghost costume before anyone saw me while doing what I could to keep the nails from sliding into my face and skewering me as I pried them off.
Cries and shouts burst from behind me. Confusion rained. Shrieks from two of Castor’s daughters ripped through his house. Castor himself had probably landed at least one foot on several shards of broken glass. Maybe two feet. He would’ve known by then. Someone had been inside and set a trap in his own home. Panic would’ve consumed him. He wouldn’t know how bad it was but if two of his girls were still screaming then it was getting worse with every breath.
I tried to time Castor’s reactions as best I could. By now he would be hobbling, limping with glass puncturing his soles, treading carefully. He’d have a sword in his hand. His wife would push past him. His son would have scrambled to his feet.
I leapt over a laneway. The height difference between the two homes worked in my favor but it was the last one I’d be able to jump over.
He’d be shrieking about his daughter. He would see two but not the third. Search the house. Confusion would spill from the girls. Hearts would plummet. She was gone.
They would be calling for her now, darting from room to room, Castor and his son doing most of the moving about in case the intruder was still there. The gate in front of the atrium would be found ajar.
Where the fuck were the dogs? Why aren’t they here? The front door is closed and barricaded so the dogs had to be somewhere. He’d open the door. The dogs would run in barking.
Castor would trip, unable to go on with the glass in his feet. His temper would erupt across the whole house. Send someone to the city watch.
I was free of the Eyeless Ghost outfit but I kept my black sash around my face for protection. I dropped the disguise on the rooftop, skidded to a stop, dropped to my side and lowered myself to the ground. There was no way I could act like a drunk to cover my tracks, not when I had to get out of there quickly. Someone would be up and they would see me, but when most people see a guy wearing a mask amid shouts and screams they tend to go into protection mode. They’ll make sure their family is safe, their things are secure, and they’ll let me pass. Never has an upstanding citizen stopped me in the street when I was running for my life.
I wasn’t sure if Lieutenant and Greaser had made it to the burnt-out quarter safely. I wasn’t sure if they had been caught by the city watch or a rival company. Chances were high that everyone in Vanguard was fully awake by now. Their captain would be shouting at the two dumbasses for losing a fight and for losing a sword, sheath and all.
I settled into a walk half a mile from Castor’s. The street was clear. I removed the wrap around my face, trying to blend in while sucking in as much air as I could. No matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t enough. I made it a hundred yards before sweat started to stream across my face, stinging my eyes in the cool morning breeze.
I stuck to the narrow roads as best I could, heading towards the orphanage in Red Hill, until I reached a problem.
Vanguard. Two of them, in a plaza, with the rising light illuminating everything around them. One mage, one rattler. They were on guard, looking for anyone who didn’t belong there.
Half a mile away, a bell rang out in desperation. Castor must’ve alerted the city watch. Someone in a panic was ringing that bell for all it was worth, calling every watchman to work.
A thump of sandals and a clatter of spears hitting the ground sounded nearby. The watchmen were on a run. I moved to
an alley. The watchmen ran past without noticing me, unsure of what they were supposed to be looking out for. I made my way back towards the plaza. The rattler and mage had retreated but they wouldn’t give up their position so easily. I circled around, ducking and weaving for what felt like an hour, until I reached the last home I had lived in before joining the Governor’s Hand.
Even on the best of days, the kids in there would rarely have the chance to sleep through the night undisturbed. After losing Día then Caen within two days of each other, few would have had more than a couple of hours of sleep. Their first wish was that Día had found a way to escape. She would stumble in, delirious, having just run halfway across town. I hoped she had. At least then she might be able to tell me who had taken her and where I’d find them.
I wrapped my face in the sweaty cloth again and angled myself around towards my old bedroom. There were plenty of nights where I had snuck out of that window, shimmied from one ledge to the other and around the corner to get to Kiera’s room. I guess the strangest sense of being on that road again, pressed up against the wall, was a complete lack of interest in the building. The first time I had been back, just the day before, I’d felt nothing but dread. Then I saw how tiny the sestas were, how small the kids listening to the old man were, and how neat and ordered the sleeping mats lay in the bedrooms. But standing there that dawn with Castor no doubt minutes away, I just wanted to get the day going.
I whispered from the street. “Kid?” No answer, but then again I was calling out to an orphanage with maybe a hundred kids inside. “Kid looking for Día?”
I tried again. “Día. The girl.”
Stirring came from above. Three heads poked out. I stared back at them, a mercenary against a bunch of kids. Kel blinked at me sleepily, puzzled to see me return. “Have you found her?”
“No. Can you climb down? I need your help.”
Kel’s friends whispered caution into his ear. No doubt the sestas had been telling them that they should never trust a stranger in the night trying to lure kids away.
“Help doing what?” asked Kel.
“I need you to head up to Black Rock and look for anyone who has seen a specific old lady.”
He was notably confused. After a little repeating, he answered. “I can’t. Sesta Silvia has grounded me for losing my job. And for fighting.”
“You can always return,” I said. “I’m doing everything I can to find Día. By now the people who have her are thinking twice about who they’ve messed with. I need a youngster I can trust, someone to walk in Día’s footsteps from a couple of days ago and ask the merchants for any discarded clothes.”
Kel looked back, puzzled, as though his idea of what mercenaries usually did and what he heard me asking were miles apart. Which I guess was true.
“Don’t go,” whispered his friends. “We’ll tell if you leave.”
We didn’t have time for this, not with Castor probably on his way here right now. I said, “Día means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
Kel offered a wary nod. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t slept a wink last night. Even so, his aggression had faded. He was now nothing more than a ragged kid who knew he would never see his friend again. “The sestas hit me with a cane when I punched Caen.”
I glanced over my shoulder, convinced the city watch was thundering towards me. I turned back to the terrified kid one floor up. “We’ve heard of it happening in Helrun and it’s definitely happened before in Erast. These people always take orphans, people who can’t defend themselves. That isn’t right, is it?”
“No,” Kel mumbled.
“And the watchmen never seem to care, do they? I mean, they care a little, but not enough. The difference is I care and I can get her back. My friends care as well. So do you. Will you help me?”
I bet the world flashed before his eyes at that moment. A look of resolution started to creep in.
“Do you like living here?”
“No.”
“Do you like your job?”
“No.”
“Did you spend last night trying to figure out if you should stay here in case Día came back or if you should run away completely?”
That certainly woke him up.
“Will you help me get her back?”
His friends whispered to him again but he was no longer listening to them. He swung one leg out then the next, held onto window sill, and dropped to the ground in front of me. He stared back at the window above, possibly wondering if it was the last time he would ever see it or his friends again.
I stared back at Kel’s friends. “That’s your bedroom, yeah?”
Their eyes widened in dismay.
“You say anything to anyone about who I am, I will find you. Not one word, not even a whisper.”
They retreated back inside.
I led Kel around the corner. I dug out Castor’s loaf of bread, ripped off a chunk and held it out to him. “Hungry?”
Kel took it, eating without saying a word. It had a swirl of sharp vinegar baked into it, giving it a surprising punch when you weren’t expecting it.
It took a while of waiting, of watching to see who would get to us first. Short answer: Lieutenant. He staggered towards us out of breath, wiping sweat from his brow.
“All good?” I asked.
“Done,” he said, with an extra nod thrown in for good measure. “One friend is heading up to the rock, our heavier one is heading towards you.”
I clapped my hand on the back of Kel’s shoulders. “You remember Kel, right?”
Lieutenant held his hand out, shaking the youngster’s like he had more years on him than he actually did.
I said, “I need you and Lieutenant to knock on every door in Black Rock, asking for old clothes. Keep going until you find which streets Día worked two or three days ago. From there I want you to ask everyone if they saw her walking with an old woman. Find out where the old woman was living, who she was, where she came from, and how to find her.”
Kel nodded to himself. “She started at the red fountain.”
“Did she tell you anything else?”
“Just that the old lady was nice.”
I decided to keep the kid focused on a happier end goal than on the misgivings of my plan. “When we’re done here, I’ll get you a job. A proper one.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not sure. Is there anything you would like to do?”
He stared off into space. I guess the options for an orphan fell to whichever was the least shittiest job they had ever done.
“If you want to build things, I can get you a job as a carpenter.”
“You mean an actual job?”
“Yeah. Joining us is out of the question.”
“I might be good at it. I’m fast.”
“Trust me, the life we have isn’t everything you think it is. If you want money, get a job you like. If you want to impress girls, get a job you like. If you want to make a difference, join the army or the city watch and actually try to make a difference.” I handed Kel over to Lieutenant. “You got it from here?”
“Yeah. I’ll get Runaway to track down the old lady’s hand cream.”
We parted ways. I climbed the wall next to me and made my way onto the roof of the orphanage. So far there were no desperate cries that Kel had run off with a mercenary. I settled down next to the atrium, ready for the sestas to wake everyone up.
I leaned back, calming myself down. The fate of Castor’s daughter now rested solely in the hands of Qin. He was a good kid but his life was in just as much danger as my own if anyone figured out that he was planted there.
Castor’s daughter would be fully awake now, terrified and trying to find a way out of her binds. Kiera probably screamed for help. Día as well. This girl, who had done nothing wrong, had just been propelled into a new life; one where bad things happen to those who don’t deserve it, simply because those bad things benefit someone like me.
The sun was rising, stinging my eyes. E
verything inside me just wanted to ease back, close my eyes, and allow sleep to take over. But I couldn’t. Somewhere nearby, Castor was on the warpath, and if he ever found me my end would be long, unbearable, and nothing short of utter agony.
Chapter Twenty-One
The hardest part of that morning was not the murderous run across the rooftops. It wasn’t even getting my ribs thumped by two Vanguard thugs. It was lying on the roof of the orphanage with nothing to do, watching the sun rise, listening to the sestas and orphans go about their day. By now I had been up for two days straight. I had barely eaten. I had walked from one side of the city to the other twice already. I had exerted myself beyond the point where most company men would give up. The thing that had kept me going was momentum and adrenaline. Neither was in ready supply as I lay still on that roof waiting for Castor to arrive.
I started seeing colors and splotches appear before me. My stomach growled like that of the orphans a couple of feet below me. Considering all the practice I’ve had at waiting and staring off into space while employed at the company, those few hours should have been easy, but there is a big difference between waiting at a table playing cards or bones, able to go to bed or even have a walk, compared to lying as still and quiet as possible on the roof of a building. I just wasn’t very good at it.
We have a squeezer by the name of Knuckles. He could pass himself off as an eleven year old from behind. He had that short guy and pissed-off-about-it sort of mind. His opposite was Ox – someone who is half man, half ox. One night we had to get Knuckles on top of a three floor building. From there he could squeeze himself down the chimney or through a narrow window and let the rest of us in. Ox had a suggestion that none of us thought was possible. He hurled the little guy up. Knuckles grabbed onto a window ledge, and everything would have gone well if Knuckles wasn’t pretty much stuck up there. Three floors up with one hell of a drop. I always thought that squeezers had the worst job imaginable. They’d crawl into places no sane man would consider going into. If the only way into a guarded building was through a pipe one foot across, it was the squeezer’s job to get in and wriggle forward an inch at a time. Three hours later he’d open the door for you from the inside. You’d roll your eyes at the length of time it took him to break in but holy shit is it a job no one else would ever volunteer for. Knuckles had the patience of a wise old man. He should’ve been up here waiting for Castor, not me.