Steelhaven 02 - The Shattered Crown

by Richard Ford

  ‘You coming back?’ asked Chirpy, as she made her way over the roof and towards the stairs.

  Well, are you? Will you even bother to come back and see if Migs is okay? There’s a tough winter coming, and worse if the Khurtas get through that wall. Are you gonna come check on them, or are you just gonna look to yourself?

  ‘Aye, I’ll be back,’ she replied, not looking over her shoulder. Not wanting Chirpy to see the same lie on her face as he heard from her lips.

  How could she promise to come back? She already had enough to deal with. Hells, she might not even be alive tomorrow.

  Maybe you should have told the truth. Maybe you should have let them know they ain’t going to see you again. That you only came out of guilt and it hasn’t made you feel no better.

  But she couldn’t do that neither. She was just a coward and she knew it. Only bothered about herself. She’d spent years looking after a crew of lads and look where it had got her – screaming for help on a rooftop while one of them bled his last out through a hole in his throat.

  They were better off without her. Better off fending for themselves than getting mixed up with Rag and her shit. And it was shit all right – following her round wherever she went, stinking her up good and proper.

  Who are you trying to kid? Don’t try to pretend you’re protecting them. You’re running away, just like last time.

  Rag stopped at the end of Slip Street and took a glance back. If she never saw this place again it would be too soon. Saying that, what waited for her elsewhere might not be much better.

  As she made her way through the streets towards Northgate, Rag began to get that heavy feeling in her stomach. If Slip Street had held daemons for her, there was a tavern somewhere on her route that held trouble ten times worse, and no mistake.

  She’d let that man Nobul go free. What kind of payback would there be for that? Would Friedrik know it was Rag what let him out? Would he be waiting with something sharp and pointy just for her?

  Only one way to find out.

  The thought of running away crossed her mind, though it was only fleeting. She’d learned how to survive in this city, and that was all she knew. How would she live outside it? Find a job in some backwater village? Get work on the land?

  Rag the farmer? Do me a fucking favour.

  Friedrik’s tavern was quiet when she reached it. The street was dark – no lamplighters would be along this end of Steelhaven any time soon, and she paused at the threshold.

  Last chance, Rag. Take it or leave it.

  Rag turned the door handle and walked in.

  She had no idea what she’d been expecting. Anger? Certainly. Uproar? Probably. Carnage? Yeah … but not like this.

  The place looked smashed to pieces. There were corpses everywhere, many of them naked. The lads were doing their best to clean up; Yarrick and Essen were carrying a body to one corner where there was a pile of the dead. Even Harkas was helping, wiping blood off a tabletop with a soiled rag. Shirl, still looking worse for wear, stayed out of the way, too injured to help and too scared to leave.

  Rag looked across at the shadow standing in front of the fire. All she could see was his back as he stared into the dying embers.

  Rag wanted nothing more than to run. She should have taken that chance, should have fled when she was outside and the going was good, but she was here now. Had she brought all this about? All those people dead – and because she’d let Nobul go.

  He’d warned her too – told her if she fucking hung around she’d end up dead just like them. And she’d believed him … mostly. She couldn’t have expected this though, could she? Surely it weren’t her fault?

  Slowly she crossed the tavern to where Friedrik was stood. She didn’t say nothing, just stood behind him. Rag knew better than to interrupt him when he was lost in thought. Shirl and his bruises were enough of a lesson not to get on the wrong side of Friedrik. But then there was every chance she’d already got on his wrong side. Only question was, would she be able to lie her way out of it?

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Friedrik said, not looking round from the fire. Rag couldn’t tell if he was angry or not, there was neither joy nor menace in his tone.

  ‘I … I ran away,’ she replied, not knowing what else to say. ‘When it all kicked off I ran away into the night and I was too scared to come back.’ If she tried half-truths maybe he wouldn’t sniff out the lie in what she was saying. She’d already proved she weren’t no good at lying back when that woman Kaira caught her. No use chancing it now.

  ‘The lads said it was your idea they leave. Your idea the place was left unguarded. I said it couldn’t be true, that you’d never be so stupid.’

  ‘Yeah, I did say that, but I didn’t think—’

  ‘You didn’t think?’ Friedrik turned round, and she could see his face was grave, like he’d just been to a funeral. Or a dozen funerals, all at once. ‘Do you expect me to believe that? It’s something I’d believe of Shirl or Essen or Yarrick, but not you. You’re always thinking, Rag. Always one step ahead – that’s why I like you. That’s why I keep you around.’

  ‘I just meant … I didn’t think there were no danger.’

  He stared at her, those eyes burning deep like he could see through the lies. ‘Well, clearly there fucking was, because it’s like a butcher’s shop in here. Rare cuts lie all around. Chop chop chop.’

  As he punctuated his last three words with three slices of his hand, Rag swallowed.

  ‘It all just happened so quick. I had to get out. There weren’t nothing I could do.’

  ‘It happened so quick? Yes, I’m sure. A deadly man, our Nobul Jacks. But I’m wondering; how did he manage to get loose? Know anything about that?’

  Rag thought hard. What could she say? What did Friedrik think she knew?

  ‘That toothless bloke,’ she said. ‘He was taunting the fella in the cellar. Couldn’t keep away. I told him to leave well alone, but he just wouldn’t. Maybe he dropped his keys.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Friedrik, looking genuinely interested. ‘How clever of you to work that out when I never even mentioned he had a set of keys. How would you know that?’

  You and your fucking mouth, Rag.

  ‘Just a guess. How else would it have happened?’

  Friedrik glared at her. It was obvious he knew. Obvious he was just dragging this out for the show.

  ‘Where is he?’ Friedrik asked, finally.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Nobul Jacks. The man in the fucking cellar.’ He was talking through his teeth now; she’d seen it a dozen times – always just before he stuck something into someone and they screamed and screamed, but he carried on sticking like he couldn’t hear their pain.

  ‘I don’t know. I just ran. I ran away.’ She could feel tears welling in her eyes. Behind her the lads had stopped with their business and were watching what was happening. Rag knew she’d get no help from them.

  ‘Where did you run to? Back to his house? He must have been in a bad way, Rag. Did you see to his wounds and then come back here? Where the fuck is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, I swear it.’

  Friedrik reached out and grabbed her arms. His fingers dug in deep and she almost cried out in pain. Almost.

  ‘You’ve been gone all night and all day. Where have you been? Tell me now or I’ll—’

  ‘I went to find Merrick!’ she shouted. ‘That Merrick Ryder fella, like you wanted.’

  Friedrik’s brow softened all of a sudden. ‘What?’

  ‘I ran and I was on the streets and I didn’t know what to do and I knew you’d be angry and I went to find that Merrick and he’s meeting me later.’

  Friedrik let go of her, a smile taking over his face. ‘Why didn’t you say that in the first place?’ he asked. She stared at him, at his smiling face, wondering what kind of mad bastard just changed on a coin toss like that.

  ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ he said. ‘Lead the way.’

  THIRTY-FIVEr />
  Kaira waited in the dark. Leofric and Oswil were in their positions at either end of the alleyway, standing in the shadows, cloaks pulled tight about them. Without their armour, all three looked like any other street scum sheltering from the winter cold. It was a risk to be out here unprotected, but they couldn’t chance spooking their quarry. She would have preferred to bring more men, but too many might have given the game away. Besides, she was sure the three of them could handle a bunch of Northgate thugs.

  Not that she was even confident they would need to. There was every chance this was a fool’s errand and the girl Rag wouldn’t show. Kaira had fully expected their first meeting to be their last.

  She had placed trust in the girl at the time – what else could she do? – but always remembered Rag was a child of the streets. In the few days since Kaira had let the girl walk from the Sentinels’ barracks she had lost all hope of seeing her again. It had been a surprise, then, when Rag suddenly appeared in the night, breathless and fearful. She said the time was right, that she would fulfil her part of their bargain and all she wanted in return was beer and bread and maybe a pie. Kaira had seen to it she had all those things, fully expecting the girl to gorge herself, but instead she had placed the items in a sack. Before she left, they’d arranged this meeting place – a dead-end street in Northgate.

  As Kaira stood, waiting on the word of an adolescent waif, she began to feel more and more foolish. Kaira was quick to trust, perhaps too quick, that much was obvious. As a Shieldmaiden she had put all her faith in the Temple of Autumn, in the Matron Mother, in the Exarch. Since then she had learned that her faith had been misplaced, that perhaps the Temples of Arlor and their figurehead, the High Abbot, were as flawed as any other institution. For years she had served as a tool, obeying the word of her superiors without question, even when her own feelings might have swayed her otherwise.

  Now, as she stood in the cold, it seemed that blind trust had led her astray once more.

  Merrick should have been there – he was, after all, the bait – but Kaira couldn’t stomach being near him. In the past she had risked everything for him, even gambled her life to save his, and what had she got in return?

  Nothing.

  Still he wallowed in self-pity, finding solace at the bottom of a tankard. Still he cared only about himself. Only now it was worse. His father had returned and Merrick had to deal with his deep-rooted resentment. Not that he faced it head on, like a warrior should. He shied from it, hid from it like a craven. She had seen him fight well enough, and his sword hand was strong. If only his heart could be the same.

  To the hells with him anyway. His wallowing had caused Statton’s death and opened Queen Janessa up to sorcerous powers. She would rely on him no longer.

  The sound of voices alerted Kaira to someone entering the alleyway. She forgot all about Merrick as her hand strayed to her sword – though she knew that was folly. Her wrist still ached from the wound Azai Dravos had inflicted. She might well be able to draw the weapon from its sheath but she would have been near useless with it.

  ‘How much farther?’ asked a voice in the distance.

  ‘Not far now,’ came the reply. Kaira’s heart beat faster. She recognised the voice.

  As Rag walked into the scant light Kaira saw she led a group of men, five in all, of varying sizes. Instantly Kaira’s eyes strayed to the biggest of their number, identifying the greatest threat.

  Once the group had reached the midpoint of the alleyway, Kaira stepped out into the light of the moon. Rag halted in front of her, but said nothing.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said one of the men, as they stopped behind Rag.

  Kaira watched, assessing the group, giving them a chance to reveal which of them was their leader. As she did so, Leofric came up behind them and Oswil appeared from an alley to the right, both with swords drawn.

  The biggest of the bunch looked down at the man to his right, unsure of what to do. The man he looked at, a short fellow whom Kaira had marked as no danger, stepped forward.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, relaxed, calm, unafraid. ‘It’s clear you have no idea who I am, so I’ll give you the chance to leave quietly. Because I have pressing business, I’ll forget this little transgression, just this once.’

  As he spoke, the men around him reached for their weapons – knives, clubs, though none of them carried a sword.

  ‘I know who you are,’ Kaira said pulling back her hood.

  By now three of the men had squared off against Oswil and Leofric. The biggest of their number just gaped dumbly at Kaira.

  ‘You know who I am? Either you’re insane or lying,’ said the little man. ‘I’m Friedrik. As in Bastian and Friedrik? Of the Guild? I assume you’re robbers or killers, so you’ll no doubt have heard of me. And you will no doubt realise you’ll have nowhere to hide unless you piss off out of my way right now.’

  ‘Your men are free to leave,’ Kaira replied. ‘I only want you.’

  Kaira stared at the little man, Friedrik, but remained aware of the hulking thug standing next to him. Even as Friedrik signalled with his hand, even as he said, ‘Harkas, do the honours,’ she still stared at him.

  The brute strode towards her, his silhouette blotting out the light of the moon. As he reached out with a huge hand Kaira struck. Her sword hand might have been injured but her left was as strong as ever. And one hand was all she would need.

  Before he could reach her throat Kaira grasped that big hand, twisting it at the wrist. She forced the bull of a man to his knees and he grunted, his other hand coming up to grab her. A sharp twist made him grunt again and think better of it. He could only grasp at his wrist as it teetered on the brink of snapping.

  Friedrik’s remaining henchmen made their move, attacking with little style or skill. Leofric swatted the club from one man’s hand with a deft swipe of his sword. Oswil parried a stabbing knife and struck out with his pommel, breaking his opponent’s nose and sending him sprawling. The one that remained, a fat man who looked like someone had already given him a beating recently, dropped his knife and held up his hands in surrender.

  ‘What now?’ Friedrik asked, seeming more amused than perturbed at the easy besting of his men. ‘Are we all to be slaughtered?’ The prospect didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

  ‘You will come with me,’ she said.

  ‘Will I?’ Friedrik replied.

  Leofric took a step forward, the flat of his sword connecting firmly with the back of Friedrik’s head. He was driven to his knees, his hands coming up to that mop of curly hair. Kaira expected him to moan, or at least to beg, but when he looked up she saw he had a smile on his face.

  ‘Looks like I will,’ he said, giggling, though Kaira couldn’t see the joke.

  She glanced at the rest of his henchmen. They seemed a sorry collection. For a man like Friedrik, a man in charge of most of the illicit business in the city, they were a wholly inadequate bodyguard.

  ‘The rest of you can run or die. The choice is yours,’ she said, still holding onto the big man’s wrist. If any of them were going to offer any trouble it would be him, so better the rest were gone before he was allowed the chance to get up.

  Without a second thought for their leader, the three thugs fled down the alley. Kaira looked at the one on his knees.

  ‘What about you?’

  He gazed at her for a while, assessing his chances, before giving the smallest of nods.

  Kaira released his wrist. He slowly rose to his feet until he towered over her. Kaira half expected him to launch himself forward, throwing his life away for one last chance to rescue his master. Instead, he walked after his fellows, down into the shadows of the alleyway, with not so much as a second glance at Friedrik.

  So much for loyalty among thieves.

  ‘Shall we?’ Kaira asked.

  Friedrik climbed unsteadily to his feet. ‘I suppose we shall,’ he replied.

  Leofric and Oswil took Friedrik by the arms and marched him on into the dark.
As Kaira followed behind, Rag appeared at her side. As soon as Kaira had confronted the group the girl had disappeared. Kaira admired her skill for concealment – she guessed it came in handy in her line of work.

  ‘There’s no reason for you to follow anymore, Rag. I think your work is done.’

  ‘Where am I going to go?’ the girl replied. ‘I’ve started this now, may as well see it through.’

  ‘If you come with us what you see might not be pretty.’

  ‘You think it’ll be any worse than the shit I’ve seen already?’

  Kaira guessed it wouldn’t be, though how ugly things would get was yet to be seen. Much of that depended on Friedrik.

  It was near dawn when they got back to the barracks. The place was all but deserted as they conveyed him to the cells. Kaira could have handed him over to the Greencoats, but she had learned enough to know they could not be trusted, not with a man as important as this. If word spread that they held one of the masters of the Guild he would be dead or fled within the day. Better that she kept her hands on him for the time being.

  Why there were cells in the barracks of the Skyhelm Sentinels Kaira had no idea. Perhaps because of some age old tradition that military or political prisoners be kept there. Perhaps because of something more sinister. Whatever the reason, Kaira was thankful for it.

  Friedrik was sat in a chair, his hands bound behind him. Leofric and Oswil stood outside the door and Kaira was grateful for their discretion. For a fleeting moment she had considered waking Captain Garret. He should, after all, be informed of what type of guest had arrived, but Kaira wanted some time alone with Friedrik first. She’d been hunting this man for a long while. Had failed in her task to find him once. It was one of the reasons she had turned her back on the Temple of Autumn. She was curious to know the man responsible for much of the suffering in this city.

  As she stared at him, Kaira wondered what to say. What could she say? She had never interrogated anyone before. Kaira Stormfall was a warrior, a protector. She was no inquisitor.