On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  The Sindrian man smiled wickedly and positioned his rod for another strike.

  “Thom?” The best and smartest raven ever, whom I had positioned outside the Coilwerks, was perched in the window, looking at all of us quizzically. The men froze in place, and I saw one ward the evil eye.

  She had heard my call.

  “Ha!” I pointed at her and then at the Blades. “I told you, I only needed one!”

  “Greedy little bint.” One of the men spat at the ground. “I didn’t come down here to lose no eye.”

  “Blythe,” I turned toward the man. “Will you desist and submit?” I looked from him to his men. “Or would you rather have a proper introduction to my girl?”

  “Thom,” Blythe’s voice was steady but only just. “You can’t possibly—”

  I spoke louder. “You and your men are guilty of the tier one offense of causing a judicar personal harm. You are also guilty of aggravated detainment of a judicar, dire intention, and a few counts of wrongful harm to a citizen of Teredon.” I leveled my wrench at the men. “You are hereby detained.”

  For a long moment, the men stood quiet. Not one of them liked the odds with my girl on the board. Yes, they could still take me, but now the chances were that several of them would be blinded or maimed in the process.

  Apparently, that was a cost that Blythe was willing to pay.

  “My cullies understand what’s at stake, Thom.” His words were oily. “We know who our gentleman is and what will happen if we fail.”

  I tensed as he spoke. The men around me nodded, and I saw their resolve tighten. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

  “The last time I saw some of your men, one of them ended up burnt alive on the floor of the Wyndhaus.” I shifted the wrench, signaling to my good girl. Ready. Danger. “I think maybe your boys here don’t want to end up dead, Blythe.”

  “There are worse things than death, Thom.” The man spoke as if he were addressing a child. “You would know that if you had even a hint of the lay of the board.” He paused then, his next words falling like a pronouncement of the Radiant. “Take him. Do what you must.”

  Things moved quickly then.

  I swung even before the Sindrian man realized that we were back at it, and connected the greatwrench to the side of his knee. He cried in pain, stumbling back and dropping the spark-light into the cold, black water.

  I half expected some great burst of galvanized water the moment they connected, but no, instead the spark-light went dark. Then, having a mostly wooden handle, it floated along the top, rushed away by the water.

  “Fecking ass!” The Sindri man screamed holding his knee. I imagined it might be out of joint, but that wasn’t my concern.

  I gave him a sharp grin. “It typically gets worse though.” I made three sharp gestures and settled into a defensive pose.

  No time for specialized stances here. I looked at my opponents. The situation was too fluid. I needed to stay on my toes.

  Then, Scoundrel was on the man; fury and black-winged death.

  Men always believed that they could flail against the ravens, and this was exactly what the Sindri did. My girl was a symphony of midnight feathers, silver blades, and crimson blood as she tore into his face. Panicked and in agony, he stumbled backward, slipping and falling into the water.

  He screamed and then went silent.

  The other Blades were stupefied at the sight, temporarily frozen in place. True to her training, Scoundrel looped back to me, resting on my shoulder.

  I winced. I wasn’t wearing the traditional pad there, and even though she was being cautious, her talons were fierce. Even so, I looked at the nearest man.

  “Are you next?” I gave him a sharp smile.

  Then, they were on me.

  I never saw the one who struck me from behind, but he was wielding one of the hateful, violet sparks. He plunged it into the center of my back, and I screamed, dropping like a stone. Once on my knees, he held it there, and I experienced agony like nothing I had ever imagined.

  It was as if my blood was filled with slivers of ice, ice that hungrily sought to stab and cut. It was in my limbs, in my chest, even in my head as I writhed in torment. There was no room for thought or emotion—there was only pain.

  Another one swung something at my chest—a club maybe. It was like a hammer, and I collapsed forward, breathless.

  I heard men cry out, no doubt from Scoundrel’s attentions, but the sound seemed leagues away. I managed to open my eyes, realizing that I was screaming.

  “Stop!” The word came from Blythe’s general direction but was not him. It rang with command, with the undeniable air of one who was accustomed to being obeyed.

  The pain vanished. I gasped with the pleasure of its sudden release.

  “You are hereby detained.” There was no nonsense to the voice, only complete, stoic seriousness.

  It was Wil. I laughed at the sound, my voice almost a croak.

  “Every man here is guilty of the tier one offense of causing a judicar personal harm, or, at a minimum, criminal inaction.” He paused. “You are also guilty of aggravated detainment of a judicar—”

  “I got that one.” I raised a hand toward Wil, stumbling as I stood. “Also dire intention.”

  “Right!” Wil pointed at one of the men closest to him. “Dire intention.” He looked back to me. “Did you charge them with unlawful operation, regarding all this mechanery?” He waved his hand about, referring to the rumbling sound thrumming through the building.

  “You know, I hadn’t.”

  Then, Blythe swung on Wil.

  It was as if they all came to the exact same decision in the same moment. If having one living judicar was a problem, well, two was right out.

  I spun, catching the man who had held his spark-light against me square in the face with my greatwrench. There was a satisfying crack, and he sprayed blood and teeth from his mouth as he fell like a wet sack of wheat.

  Then, the fight was on again.

  In the nonce where Wil and I had been yammering, I had noticed something troubling, however. There were far more than the ten or so men I had noted when initially being pursued. I hadn’t been able to count, of course, but there were easily seven or eight men here for each judicar.

  Already, our birds were working as trained, Scoundrel taking up drogue behind Svester as the two darted among the men, striking fast and lethal. More than once, I had a man focused on moving closer to me, only to have the ravens swoop by, leaving streaks of scarlet and wails of pain in their wake. I would shift into a stance when I noticed them, or subtly communicate through gesture what I needed.

  The birds were winged death. Still, there were too many of the men.

  I leapt forward, bringing my wrench to bear against another of the men who held the hateful spark-lights. He was a younger man, and when he swung at me, I dodged and then struck his shoulder.

  He grunted in pain but pressed forward. When his eyes flickered behind me, I ducked, spun, and struck the leg of a man who had been slipping up on me.

  “Desist!” Wil called loudly, but I couldn’t see what was happening. I knew my friend well, however, and he sounded pressed.

  I needed to get to him. Back to back, with our ravens both striking. That was the only way to do this.

  Even then, I doubted we could possibly handle this many.

  I swung again at the man in front of me, this time connecting with the fingers holding his weapon. With a cry of pain, he dropped it into the water. Instantly, it doused, and the water swept it away.

  Wait.

  In a nonce, an idea occurred to me.

  Making certain no one was behind me, I took a few steps forward, dodging a hammer that one of them threw. When my foot kicked the metal plaque, I glanced down.

  DUMPING REAGENT ONCE PER BELL ONLY—LEGATES WRIT

  “Wil!” I looked over to where I had seen him last and actually got a glimpse this time. He was in a defensive stance, holding off five of the Blades with
little more than a promise of pain and his ironwood stave.

  He didn’t look toward me; he couldn’t. But I knew he had heard. I tried to dodge as a skinny Blade took a swing at me, but I actually caught the strike in my pained ribs. Stumbling for a moment, I stepped back and put two fingers between my lips.

  The shrill whistle caught both ravens’ attention. Without looking toward them or the mess they were making of a downed, screaming man, I gestured at Wil, my hand rapidly signaling to the ravens.

  Bad. Bad. Strike. Help Judicar.

  In less than a nonce, they were off.

  I turned back toward my new skinny friend, my heart sinking as I realized that he and two of his cullies were trying to flank me. I whirled, catching one on the side of the face but not before another swung a spark-light toward mine.

  Frantically, I stumbled backward, away from that awful, violet light. I had already been bitten by it twice, and that was twice too often. In the distance, I heard the cries of men as the ravens tore into them, mercilessly shredding flesh.

  “Wil!” I called again, and this time he looked. When he did, I gave him one of the bird-signs.

  Come.

  Then, I looked away from him, back toward the three Twilight Blades.

  The next few moments were a flurry of wild fighting. Of course, if I were to tell it, it was all judicar skill and training, with perhaps a dash of raw, physical prowess. However, if pressed, the truth might be somewhere closer to a mad, wild scrambling of meandering swings and animalistic fervor.

  Whatever. I know how the story should be told.

  When the slender Blade rushed me, it wasn’t hard to drop, grab him and spin him into one of his fellows, the one who had dropped his spark. The two of them had a difficult time staying out of the water, which gave me a moment to turn to the third for a swing.

  And catch his fist with my nose.

  “Damn it!’ I stumbled backward, my entire world a blossom of crimson and pain. “Do you know how many times I’ve been hit in the nose in the past few days?” I spat the words at the man, hefting my greatwrench for a swing.

  “Not enough to make you pretty yet, Talia.” Wil had leapt out to me and was at my back. “I’m beginning to wonder if I haven’t paid these men well enough for the job.”

  “Oh, are you finally here?” I couldn’t help but smile wildly. I lunged forward, swinging my wrench. I grimaced; my arm was getting tired.

  “You know how it is.” Wil gestured to Svester, and I grinned to watch the birds swoop down on the Terrier. “A man gets busy.”

  “I was wondering if a man was ready to step along?”

  “Happily.” Wil lunged forward with his stave and set a man stumbling back. “I assume these gentles will show us the way out?”

  “Not hardly.” I leaned back against him, trying to catch my breath. “But if you glance down, you might get an idea of my fiendish plan.”

  There was silence then, followed by a long, resigned sigh.

  “Kill them!” Blythe had certainly changed his song, I noticed. On the far side of the trenches, men in various stages of injury were regrouping. I grinned to note that most were bloody or limping.

  “Are you certain?” Wil practically hissed the words as he sent one of the Blades collapsing to the ground. “It’s not exactly a throw we can take again.”

  “I think, if we stay here, the end result is certain.” I whistled at the birds, shrilly getting their attention.

  “Thom?” My fierce and bloody girl alighted a few steps to my left, between myself and that window. I couldn’t help but give her a pleased smile.

  Go. I gestured toward the window, even as the Blades began working their way back toward us. They were being cautious, I noted. Coming all at once.

  “You too, Svester.” I couldn’t see Wil, but I was certain he was making the same gesture.

  “Bad Thom.” Scoundrel did not like the idea. I made the sign at her again, and added now.

  “I am not going first.” Wil’s voice was resolute. “Not my idea.”

  “Fair enough.” I swung again at the man who had bloodied my nose, striking him in the jaw. I glanced at Scoundrel, and saw she had flit over to the window, but was still watching us.

  “Rush them!” Blythe’s voice was high, keening. “Now, all at once!”

  I smiled at him, nodding my head. I gestured to my good girl, one last time.

  Then, I leapt into the water.

  4

  “Cold” does not begin to cover what the river felt like. It was frigid. It was breath-stealing pain, all wrapped up with a furious current that had its way with me the moment I leapt in.

  To be fair, I knew exactly what to expect. Every child in their Lettering knows that the river can be treacherous. Just glancing at the current was enough to let a man know that the waters coming through the Coilwerks were particularly fierce.

  Still, I thought it my best way forward.

  It was the plaque that had made my mind up, of course. The current in the trenches wasn’t there toward any purpose; it was there to dispose of waste. Thus the warnings. Apparently the legates had to make a ruling about how often the Coilwerks could dump their reagents.

  All of those emptied canisters, all the dead fish, it just made sense. Something had happened, and the workers had to get rid of a large amount of their component chemicals—and quickly.

  They had dumped them into the river.

  Of course, I was banking quite a bit on this conjecture. What if the pipe was half a league long, or held grates to filter trash? If so, there was no way that Wil or I could hold our breath that long. We would drown before we surfaced.

  It was a risk, but we were between the anvil and hammer. Blythe was furious that we hadn’t simply held up our hands and come nicely. If we had stayed, we were dead anyway.

  Thus, the maddening, biting cold.

  I thought I heard Wil leap in behind me, but it was impossible to know. In a nonce, my entire world was cold and darkness. I tried to push myself upward, seeking as much breath as I could catch, but it was hopeless.

  The river had me.

  In the moment, mature adult that I was, it was impossible not to let my mind flit over stories of the Harridan, the hag who lived in the river and would sing children from their beds. Not that she was real in any way, but it was simple to be in awe at the Er’meander’s power.

  Then, darkness.

  Once, I managed to stick my face up to the top of the brass conduit, finding a sweet breath of air. However, for most of the frigid trip, I was tumbled tail over top, my lungs burning and my limbs going numb.

  Soon, I was falling.

  The ducts emptied out over the Er’meander at almost the height of a man. Apparently, I had been wrong about where I was in relation to the river. For a nonce, I wondered what pumping device must be within the Coilwerks to pull the water up.

  Then Wil’s hat fell on top of me. I had the barest moment to realize what that meant but not enough time to move. Wil struck me square, screaming and cursing me as he fell.

  “Ow! Lost gods, Wil!” My limbs still numb from the cold, I swam away from him. It was full night over the city, and the river was wreathed in mist.

  It was beautiful.

  “That was just wonderful, Ella. I so enjoyed our date.” He sputtered out water and looked at me. “I don’t know why I ever agree to help you.”

  “You can’t help it.” I laughed, ecstatic to be alive. “You get bored too easily.”

  “Next time, I’ll stay bored.” He was struggling a bit to stay afloat in his heavy greatcoat.

  “Shut up.” I tossed him his hat and pointed into the mist. “Look.”

  Not twelve strides from us, there was a yellow glow in the thick fog. It rocked back and forth rhythmically, almost hypnotically.

  “Oh good. Spectres.” Wil’s good humor was completely finished. “Hopefully, they’ll devour our bones.”

  “No.” I laughed, realizing what it was, and swam toward it. “I
t’s the first good thing to happen all night.”

  It was good timing. I was beaten badly and exhausted. As the small skiff came closer, lantern in front, I reached up, hooking an arm around the side.

  “Ho, the river?” the man’s voice was confused. He held his skiff pole forward, as if getting ready to feed me the business end.

  “Hello.” I looked into the eyes of the boatman, and then the young couple he was ferrying across the river. “My friend and I would like to requisition this craft.”

  “Say wot now?” The amazement on the boatman’s face was delightful. Wil swam up behind me, hooking his arm on the skiff as well.

  “Requisitioned.” He was out of breath, but he pointed at the boatman. “You.” He used his free hand to firmly place his judicar hat back on his head, daring the man to say anything.

  “Well enough, sir.” The grizzled man was obviously confused. “We’re off at Shipman’s Ferry anyhow, just a touch ahead.”

  For a moment, we all rode in silence, Wil and I far too tired to say anything, much less make polite conversation. The couple had obviously been having a moment, and now sat, frustrated but quiet.

  For a long moment, everything was peaceful. Serene.

  “Birdbrain.” I looked up, only to see a mischievous young lady looking down on me from the prow of the skiff. “Bad Thom. Birdbrain.” She preened her feathers, grooming herself.

  Wil was laughing like madman, trying his best to hold on. I looked from him to her, equally annoyed with both.

  “Tainted night. I should just let go of the boat.” I muttered to myself. “End it here.” I looked at Wil. “It would be a quiet death. Peaceful.”

  “Maybe you should, Harriet.” Wil smiled at Scoundrel with obvious glee. He used his free hand to sign at her Good bird. Smart bird. “Maybe you should.”

  Ignoring them both, I held on to the skiff, trying to contemplate my next move. Truly I was too tired and beaten to give it good thought, but that didn’t matter much. I had new information, after all.

  Rebeka had been at the Havens.

  That was a solid lead. The cantorès would be more than happy to assist me, and perhaps I could finally get a lead on where Rebeka had gone. I needed that badly. Everything about this assignment had been crooked, up until now.