by C K Gold
It was almost as boring as simply waiting around, but with an added element of grueling difficulty. Focusing his mind and ignoring useless thoughts proved challenging when there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t a challenge if he was fighting or moving; only when he was sitting still, with nothing to do but wait and hope. He wished his father’s words would come to him, but it had been a long time since he’d thought about religious things.
Prayer and meditation seemed fruitless. He’d neglected all those trappings for years. Even if there were gods and ancestors listening, why would they bother to heap favors on someone who’d ignored them? But meditation was supposed to be good for other things. Namely, making both mind and body into weapons. Perhaps with enough discipline, he could figure out how to beat back the stone’s influence and expel the accursed thing from his body.
Hell, maybe he’d be struck by lightning and wake up himself again. Being a dragon-man wasn’t fun anymore.
Fang rolled to his feet. He’d lost track of time, because it was already night. His general lack of needs was convenient for his guards, because they never needed to let him out. Only catching the sun through his window did nothing for his mood. He peered out the window.
There were guards directly below him, too. The intent was less to stop him than to report on him if he left. Then Red Hand would do whatever he felt he had to. He wasn’t the sort for idle threats, which made Fang curious about how he intended to punish Fang if he disobeyed.
Not curious enough to test it.
Something moved on the top of the wall. Fang’s eyes snapped to it, drawn by the flicker of motion. He found he could see things more sharply while they were in motion. Hands gripped the top of the wall. Fang laughed to himself. Red Hand should’ve done something about the walls after Fang had been caught slipping out. Soon, a familiar head bobbed into view.
Fang scowled. What the hell are you doing? Get the hell out of here! He tried to will his thoughts into Birch’s scrubby head, but if it worked, Fang couldn’t tell. Birch made it to the top of the wall and crouched. Almost as soon as he got there, one of the brothers spotted him and cried the alarm.
Birch dropped back down the outside of the wall, but it was too late for him to escape without a chase. The brothers raced after him. Fang could imagine them closing in, trying to cut Birch off and catch him. But Birch was wily and knew the roads better than any of them. Fang had no fear that he’d be caught.
Goat delivered a note the very next day. He didn’t even need an excuse; as far as anyone was concerned, Goat was just helping Fang with his futile efforts to cure himself.
Fang waited until Goat was gone to read it. He’d probably looked anyway, but Fang wanted to maintain the illusion of some privacy. He unfolded the flaps, the same style of fold that Orchid always used. This time, though, only Birch had written in it.
“Planning breakout.”
No date or anything else. Fang folded it up and ate it, then burped a puff of smoke through his nostrils. He’d stopped lighting lamps in his rooms, let alone braziers. Something about fire had begun to make him uneasy, as though it might entrap him. He could bleed it. Maybe he could breathe it.
Maybe he could burn down all of Deepwater until all could see the city for what it was – a scar on the earth.
But that wasn’t a thought he’d ever had before he’d changed. He shook his head to clear out such poisonous notions. He had other, more pressing concerns.
The Society wasn’t in any position to invite open war with the Four Winds. Especially not now that Red Hand had increased recruitment. Even from his lonely perch, Fang had noticed the increased noise as more and more men joined Red Hand’s little army.
All for the sake of expanding. And expanding for the sake of more wealth? More power? Fang had no idea what Red Hand’s goals were besides those. Was there even any point to Red Hand’s game?
Whatever it was, it didn’t account for anyone else’s happiness. Red Hand had no problem stooping to mayhem and murder, and using others to do the same. Fang had allowed himself to be used as just one more of Red Hand’s weapons in order to get closer to him. All that had done was shut Fang in a cage, waiting for his father’s murderer to decide to use Fang to carve out another little chunk of empire off in a city being punished for rejecting his brand of corruption.
Chapter 10
I should’ve killed Red Hand when I had the chance. He’s been in my grasp so many times. Fang paced around the rooms. There wasn’t even a fingernail’s worth of space left unknown to him there. I could crush his head easily. Toss him off the top floor like Big Wei. There’s nothing stopping me.
Fang stopped at the window. The brothers below waved up when they noticed him, but he ignored them. That spot on the wall was the last place he’d seen Birch a week ago. Fang had a few ideas about what Red Hand and the others were up to now, but little real information to go on. He’d slowly been cut not just from the city, but from the gang. The new moon was tomorrow. He didn’t have much time before Red Hand tried to smuggle him off to Ten Gates.
Despite his loathing for Red Hand and elder brothers, Fang had found a home with the Four Winds. His other brothers were a mixed lot, like any group of men anywhere: some good, some bad, most decent despite their chosen lines of work. The money was good; it was only smart to work for one of the Dockside gangs. A man who belonged to Red Hand was a man who didn’t get picked up by slavers, who wasn’t troubled by petty crooks, who suddenly had prospects of a kind. As long as he was loyal, a brother could expect to be cared for his whole life. It wasn’t a bad deal if you could stomach the work. And Fang had, against all expectations, found something almost like a family among them.
Despite the sense of belonging, this life wasn’t enough. Fang had obligations. He had a duty to fulfill. His parents’ deaths deserved an answer, and not just a single line, but an epitaph worthy of people who’d pursued righteousness. Red Hand’s death wasn’t enough.
Fang had to betray the men he called brothers, the man he called father. He’d decided that years ago, but he’d always hesitated when chances arose.
He wondered what had changed. The city hadn’t. The Four Winds hadn’t. That left only him, really, and perhaps Red Hand. But Fang hadn’t known the man who poisoned his family and killed his parents. He only knew the Red Hand who led the Four Winds, a man who punished his enemies and rewarded his allies. If he had allies, rather than servants.
Birch had some things in common with Red Hand, when it came to that. Birch drew people to him without even trying. It had worked on Fang, it had worked on Orchid. It was a mysterious kind of strength. But where Red Hand kept people around him through fear and dependence, Birch kept them around because they wanted to be by his side.
It was that quality that Fang loved him for. That pull came from a well of fairness, of even-handed justice, far more valuable than any physical beauty or strength. And if Fang’s decisions had led Birch to question where Fang’s loyalties laid, then Fang had to ask himself if he’d really chosen the right turns. Somewhere along the line, he’d become just another one of Red Hand’s subordinates. He’d chosen to make the gang’s aims his own. He’d been party to the worst sorts of depravity just by accepting Red Hand’s orders.
The time had come to end their game.
Fang leaned against the window frame. The last time they’d been free to talk had been before the Knives ambushed them at his apartment. He’d asked Birch what he wanted when everything ended. But what Fang had wanted to say, what he’d wanted to hear, was a story about the future that awaited them. A future where they stayed side by side, with a love that lasted beyond their present hardships and the desperate need for someone who spoke the same language, born from a shared history.
That story couldn’t begin until this one ended. Fang clenched his claws into fists. The points dug into his palms. These weren’t hands fit for punching. They were for catching prey and rending it. Everything about this body was shaped for killing.
&
nbsp; Someone tapped at his door. “What is it?” Fang asked. Guilt flickered to life; to honor his commitments, he had to betray his brothers.
“I brought more books,” Goat said, and nudged the door open with his foot. He somehow managed to wiggle his way in despite his arms being full. Goat numbered among those brothers. He wasn’t the only one searching for a means of restoring Fang.
“You’ve been a good friend, you know that?” Fang shoved aside the papers on his table and Goat laid his stacks down in the cleared space.
He looked abashed but pleased by the praise. “I owe you a lot,” he mumbled as he avoided Fang’s eyes.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was in love with me. But Fang couldn’t do much about that. He ruffled Goat’s hair. “You won’t have to put up with this much longer.” One way or the other, I’ll be out of here and the boss will move on to the other side.
“Are you close to an answer?” Goat did meet his eyes then, excited by the prospect of a resolution at last. “The others say it’s not the same without you. And all these newcomers…” Goat lowered his voice. “It’s not right. The Demons are getting restless. I don’t blame them. Eventually even people outside of Dockside have to notice what’s happening. It’s gonna cause trouble for everybody.” His words dwindled to a whisper as he added, “And boss has been sending us away, us, you know, everyone who threw in with you.”
“They’re going to Ten Gatesss,” Fang said. He closed his eyes as he remembered Ranu’s satisfied smirk. “The boss wants to set up there. You heard Ranu the other day. It was supposed to be sssecret—”
“No. That’s not what’s happening at all,” Goat whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s selling them. Us.”
Fang’s claws squealed through the tabletop. “Is that a fact?”
“It’s the rumor. Others are going to Ten Gates, we know that. But us?” Goat shook his head. “No, brother. I don’t think that’s what boss has in mind for us anymore.”
The promise of the gang was a family for life, but if Fang’s followers disappeared at Red Hand’s command, that promise was betrayed.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long has this been going on?” Fang hissed.
“Just this week, I think. It’s not normal. Our brothers don’t up and vanish like that. Even if you’re not around, we still have obligations. We drank wine with the boss, after all.” Goat put up his usual smile, but it wasn’t the same. “We won’t let that happen to you. But I thought you should know.”
“Thanks,” Fang said. “You should go now, before someone wonders where you are.”
The door slid shut with a soft click. Alone again, Fang studied the spines of the texts Goat had brought. Nothing Fang hadn’t already read. Goat had come to bring him that message. The kid was scared.
Fang couldn’t tell him what he had in mind. That would be a step too far. But this was the last decision Fang needed to make. To act was better than not acting and living long enough to regret it.
He’d always find a reason to wait and see if a better chance came along. Each opportunity had its flaws, its risks. But maybe the stone had fallen into Fang’s hands for a reason. Maybe it was the sign that he couldn’t wait any longer. Those old monks had created a powerful weapon, whatever their intentions had originally been.
It was time to break out of Red Hand’s cage. He had a few days left before Red Hand’s little deadline. Whatever he had in mind, Ten Gates or something worse, Fang didn’t intend to wait around for it. With Birch out there planning to rescue Fang, he couldn’t waste time. Those resources would be better put to use figuring out how to end the Four Winds’ operations once and for all.
⁂
That evening, while the insects droned and the heat haze blurred the last of the moon, Fang called one of his guards in. The man entered Fang’s rooms with the greatest reluctance, but Fang waved him in with all the graciousness he could imbue in the wave of his talons.
“I’m bored shitless,” he said. “I’m sure you could say the same. Since I don’t want to be skinned and tanned by the boss, and I’m sure you don’t either, let me give you my word that I’m not going to try and sneak out again. I might be uglier than a demon now, but it’s still me in here, and you know me.”
The brother shifted from foot to foot, obviously weighing what he guessed Fang might want against what Red Hand would do to him if he didn’t like it. “True enough, brother,” the guard said at last. “You’ve always been a fair-minded one, but what of it? You’ve got just about everything a man can do in a room besides whores.”
Fang laughed. “She’d be a mighty bold whore to have anything to do with this. An unmatchable queen.”
The guard went through a perplexing array of expressions until Fang realized he was holding back laughter of his own. “Come on, man, it’s a joke. I won’t gut you for having a laugh. But I’d be glad for some distractions, and I imagine the rest of you would be, too. Some games…” Fang tapped his claw on his collarbone, thinking.
“I dunno about that, Brother Fang,” the guard hemmed. “If the boss—”
“If you’re all in here, I’m hardly out of sight. You could yell if I got up to something you didn’t like. Myself, I’d kill for some wine and tiles, or even weiqi. Something to do in the evenings. You poor bastards haven’t gotten to leave either, and it’s not fair for us to all be prisoners. Gods, I haven’t had a single drop of drink in weeks now. What curse could be worse than drying out?”
“That’s true enough. A man can’t feel like a man if he doesn’t get up to something from time to time. Maybe that spirit will let you go after a good time.” The guard blurted the words out, but then looked pleased to have thought of it.
A spirit, huh? As good an explanation as any other, really. Fang stifled a grin. Showing all his teeth made his junior brothers nervous. The guards weren’t his followers, either, so they didn’t feel that extra bond with him. He had to avoid putting them more on edge than his appearance and Red Hand’s threats had already done.
Fang snagged a plain purse off the table that he’d already prepared and tossed it to the guard. The clank of silver was painful to hear, but for the guard it had to be satisfying. It was, after all, at least partly a bribe. “Here, use this to round up some decent wine — not that watery squirting shit, the good stuff. Baijiu, too, we might as well have a good time. Rustle up some games, grab the others, we’ll set up our own hall right here.”
“Well, with as much drink as this’ll buy, you might have half the brothers crammed in here,” the guard said. He gave it a good shake, doing the same mental sums they all shared in common. “S’pose it’s harmless. Truth be told, we’ve all felt sorry for you, brother. It’s just not right what happened to you. And if you’ll forgive me saying so, Brother Big Wei got what he deserved. Could’ve only been happier if you’d squashed Two Coins instead.” That last he said quietly, almost as if to himself, and chuckled as he saw himself out.
Fang returned to his perch by the window to wait. The brother wasn’t likely to simply make off with all the money. Fang was stuck in his rooms by the force of Red Hand’s orders, but that didn’t mean he had no power at all. The old man wouldn’t stand for anyone stealing from him.
Of course the old man was happy to see Fang’s men transported to slavery or worse. Knowing that, and knowing that the other brothers suspected it was happening but hadn’t tried to stop it, dried Fang’s pity up faster than a puddle in a desert.
Goat had smuggled in a small box of opium powder, refined from the sticky tar sold on the street markets. Fang had implied he’d use it for himself, but he planned to drug the wine. He fully expected Goat to show at the party, though. Why not? At least he was unlikely to disappear in the company of all those men.
Fang intended to slip out, inform Birch of his intentions, and set a snare. If he attacked from within and Birch from without, and they coordinated their actions, t
hen perhaps ending Red Hand and the gang at once wasn’t entirely hopeless.
The guard did indeed return, and with more men besides. They brought games, wine, and spirits, and on seeing how little was left in Big Wei’s old rooms besides books, they even brought in game tables and cushions to sit on, making the place almost civilized again. If Fang hadn’t intended to imminently crush their boss’s head and scatter the brothers to the real four winds, the event would’ve been a cherished memory.
More than two dozen men filled his rooms, probably more than had ever been in there at one time. The guard, who Fang finally learned was called Croaker, sat at Fang’s table, along with the other door guard and the man who spent most of his time beneath the window which faced the outer wall. They had perhaps seen the most of Fang besides Goat, and thus were, if not exactly comfortable with him, less ill at ease than everyone else.
“Sorry we couldn’t get any women to pour,” Croaker said as he refilled Fang’s cup. “It’s just that we can’t bring anyone unknown in right now. Boss’s order.”
“Eh, it’s good to spend time with just the brothers. Reminds us what we’re here for, right?” Fang lifted his cup in a vague toast and then downed it. Liquor was no more than water to this body. Even baijiu didn’t burn, which disappointed him. He’d never thought he’d be let down by the harsh liquor, but it affected him so little that he imagined he could chug a bottle and not feel even a little wobble.
Come to think of it, that’s not a bad party trick.
“Family,” Croaker said, and the others lifted their cups.
“To family!” Fang agreed, his toast ringing loud and clear. The other men, now already more than a little drunk, responded with ragged but heartfelt roars.
Arguments and bets filled the room, backed by the clicks of porcelain cups and game pieces. The men sweated profusely, spilled frequently, and farted freely, producing a miasma almost unbearable to Fang. If every night out had actually stunk like this one, he was unsure how he’d never vomited from the smell alone. Even Big Wei’s relatively spacious rooms weren’t enough for all the men who took turns watching Fang and all the friends they’d invited.