by Jon Skovron
Palla’s forehead crinkled. “Are you? How interesting. And you were hoping… what? That it would be like last time? My wags and I would come marching boldly over to help you take power? If so, I must say—”
“No, of course not,” Nettles said, a touch of impatience creeping into her voice. “That would be ridiculous. First, the moment you all left here, Sharn or Big Sig would come sweeping in and you’d return to nothing. So it don’t make sense for you. And if I’m going to take the Circle, what kind of loyalty would I inspire if I did it with a bunch of gafs from the Hammer? None at all. So it don’t make sense for me either.”
Palla looked impressed. “Perhaps deadliness and beauty are not your only attributes.”
Nettles turned to Filler. “I like how he’s always slipping in compliments.”
“It’s nice,” agreed Filler.
“So, no,” continued Nettles, “I don’t want to borrow your boots. What I want are guns for my own wags.”
“Ah.” Palla’s expression looked slightly pained.
“That a problem? I’m not looking for handouts. I can pay.”
“No, it’s just…” He paused for a moment, then sighed. “We are a bit low on guns and ammunition. At the moment.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“So who has the most guns in Hammer Point?”
“Sharn,” Palla said in a flat voice.
“Yeah…” Nettles pressed her finger to her cheek and acted like a thought was just coming to her. “She didn’t help us out with Drem and that biomancer problem, did she?”
“No. She did not.”
“I wonder if she got something out of that…”
Palla’s eyes narrowed. “You already knew about that, I take it?”
“I know some people,” she admitted. “But it’s good to have confirmation. What I’ve heard is that Sharn has been getting a lot of guns over the past year. And that’s good for her, since so many of her people have been mysteriously disappearing. I hear she’s a bit shorthanded these days.”
“The extra guns help with that,” said Palla. “You don’t need as many skilled fighters if you just put a gun in every hand.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Nettles. “See, my rival has the numbers, so I need the firepower.”
“Are you proposing that we join together, take Sharn, then split her weapon cache?”
“Things haven’t been easy for you, Palla,” said Nettles. “Sig got Thorn Billy’s gang. Sharn has her imperial rat agreement. What do you got?”
“If I take Sharn’s gang and resources, that puts me on equal footing with Big Sig.”
“I thought it might,” said Nettles.
“With so many armed opponents and so few of our own, we won’t be able to go charging into Sharn’s territory.”
“Charging in ain’t my style, anyway,” said Nettles. “I was thinking more along the lines of what you, me, and Hope did at the Three Cups. But on a much bigger scale.”
“Infiltrate quietly,” said Palla.
“Take them down singly or in small groups. With a bit of luck, we’ll cut her numbers in half before she even knows we’re there.”
“I like this idea,” admitted Palla. “You think we have enough people skilled that way?”
“I know just about every thief in Paradise Circle by name. And nearly all of them have been known to cut a throat or two when the need arises.”
Palla was silent for a moment. Then he looked at Nettles, his eyes suddenly hard.
“We will do it. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” asked Nettles.
Palla’s hand trailed over to his spear, which rested against his desk. “I kill Sharn.”
The next night, Nettles called her first meeting. She chose Apple Grove Manor as her base of operations for several reasons. It was the oldest structure in the neighborhood, built back when there were more trees than buildings in lower New Laven, so it had a certain weight all its own. It had also been the base of Jix the Lift when he ran Paradise Circle. For all his faults, Jix had been a true wag of the Circle. It was a way to remind people that her brother was no true wag of the Circle. And because of its associations with Jix, Nettles knew Apple Grove Manor was the one place Mick might avoid.
There was one more reason she chose Apple Grove Manor, although it was something she found difficult to articulate, even to herself. The strange pond in the basement, with its blind, luminous fish, gave Nettles a sense of calm she hadn’t experienced anywhere else. Of all the “special” places Red had shown her back when they were tossing, it was the only one she had truly liked. There was a stillness to that pond which made her feel as though she had stepped out of time, and all the pressure that went along with its inexorable movement toward some dark future disappeared. If she was really going to make a go at taking all of Paradise Circle in her hands, she knew that beating her brother would not be the only hard thing she would have to do. Difficult times and difficult choices always came with leadership. She could already see it beginning to weigh on Hope. If Nettles was to stand up under the pressure of running the neighborhood, she wanted to know that the still, dark waters of the pond were beneath her feet, and she could visit them as often as she liked.
The rest of Apple Grove Manor had a tarnished and crumbling beauty to it. The floors were a dark stained wood, scuffed and scraped by centuries of boots. Wallpaper in faded and peeling sheets showed calm pastoral scenes unrecognizable and (to Nettles, at least) a little unbelievable. The three-story building had a distinct lean to it, and not a single doorway was plumb.
On the ground floor, in what had once been a grand parlor, Nettles sat beside a great roaring fireplace and polished her chain as wags from all over the Circle began to trickle in.
Filler was already there, of course, standing behind Nettles, his arms crossed, his face half-hidden in the flickering firelight. Handsome Henny and the Twins were the first to arrive. Next came some wags she knew from the docks, like Gavish Gray and his best wag Fisty. Some drinking wags from the Drowned Rat slid in soon after, like Snakefeet and Built Slim. Filler and Red’s old pickpocket wags came slinking in a bit later. She didn’t know them as well, but she knew a few names, like Moxy Poxy, Ladyarch, and Mister Hatbox. Mo had even given Misandry and Tosh the night off, which was about as close as Mo would ever get to giving an official endorsement of Nettles’s play for the neighborhood.
All in all, it was a solid crew of wags. A wave of relief came as she watched them gather close. It’s one thing to know you’re quality enough to be a ganglord. It’s another when you start seeing people agree with you. She didn’t let it show, however, except a little self-satisfied smile. But to the wags there who knew her well, that might as well have been a shout of hysterical joy.
“Well now,” she said to them. “Some of you I know well, others I know by reputation, and all told, I’m pleased to see you.”
“Where you been, Nettles?” Gavish Gray was one of the best smugglers in this part of the empire. A true pirate, not the pretend types that Sadie and Hope were. He had prematurely gray hair and wasn’t too bad on the gander. Not for tossing, though, on account of his clingy nature. But that made him about as loyal a wag as Nettles had ever known.
“You all remember Bleak Hope, Hero of the Circle, who killed the biomancer at the Three Cups, and gave her freedom in exchange for everyone else’s at Gunpowder Hall,” said Nettles. “Filler and I been sailing all over the empire on her ship. Everywhere we gone, we saw the same thing as here—imps closing in on the poor common folk, taking what little they got and turning them into playthings for the biomancers. It’s like they’ve declared war on all of us, and it’s sure as piss not a time for the Circle to be struggling like it is. When I came back and found that the only real contender to lead the Circle is my cunt-dropping of a brother—who is not fit to even live here, much less run it—I could not abide it. So I’m making a play for it myself.”
She’d had Henny a
nd the Twins spreading rumors about her taking the neighborhood since they’d spoken at the Drowned Rat, so this was not news to anyone. But she gave it a moment to set all the same.
“Now, Mick may have the numbers,” she continued, “but we’re going to have guns. Lots and lots of guns.”
“Guns ain’t easy to come by these days,” said Gray. “Where we going to get ’em?”
“It just so happens,” said Nettles, “there’s a slice over in Hammer Point with a whole lot of guns who won’t be needing them soon. On account of her about to be dead. And that, my wags, is where you all come in.”
The idea of sneaking into Hammer Point and stealing a bunch of guns from a gaf who cut a deal with biomancers went over well enough, but hackles started to rise when Nettles talked about working with Palla’s wags. Thankfully, Nettles had enough money to smooth that over, and everyone left happy.
Apple Grove Manor set the right tone for someone gunning to be ganglord, but it wasn’t as comfortable as the Slice of Heaven, and was sorely lacking in amusements. Filler, Henny, and the Twins seemed content to get drunk by the fire, but Nettles was too wound up to sit still.
“Think I’ll go walk the Circle a bit,” she said to the wags.
“You want me to come?” Filler asked.
“What, you think I need a pissing bodyguard or something?”
He shrugged and went back to drinking with Henny and the Twins.
Nettles stepped out into the dark, chilly streets. She regretted snapping at him. She didn’t blame Filler for his protective instincts. He was used to taking care of Red, then Hope. Good old dependable Filler, always there. She’d even leaned on him a few times. Even so, she didn’t want to make a habit of it. Not if she was going to be running the Circle. She had to stand on her own.
She’d forgotten how much she liked walking the Circle at night. The yellow streetlights cast shadows that made everything look mysterious and heavy with meaning. Red always accused her of not being romantic, but that wasn’t it. She just had her own tastes—a preference for the dark and moody. It felt more honest to her. Because if these streets did have secrets, they were grave ones.
“Hello, Rose.”
Nettles froze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her gut twisted into rope.
“Mickey.” It came out of her mouth like a curse word. Had he been following her? She doubted the meeting was accidental.
He stepped out of the dark alley and into the streetlight. He’d been a boy the last time she saw him. A lot had changed. He was quite a bit taller than her now, taking after their father in that respect. He was big, too—chubby, even—with a round face and a thick neck. But that look in his eye was the same. Or maybe worse. The look of desperate hunger that could never be filled.
“Looking good, little sis,” he said.
“What do you want?” she asked quietly, her hand resting lightly on her chainblade.
He smiled. “I’ve been hearing some distressing talk. About you challenging my play for the Circle. And making all kinds of accusations about my character.”
“Not accusations. Reminders.”
“I wish you’d let the past go. We could do so much, you and me. We could run this neighborhood together, side by side. We could make it the family business. Think how proud Mom would have been.”
“It’s been a long time since you did anything Mom would have been proud of,” said Nettles.
His smile faltered. “It’s so easy for you to judge me. I didn’t have your looks. I couldn’t get in with Jix like you could. He just wanted a taste of that pretty little slice of yours.”
“Balls and pricks. You couldn’t get in with Jix because you were a twisted cock-dribble, and I’ll wager you still are.”
His cheeks started to redden, but then he took a slow breath and returned to his smile. “I spent a total of three years on the Empty Cliffs. I’m a changed man, Rose. Rehabilitated.”
“Like hells you are.” There was a part of her that wanted to just end it now. Put her blade right in his fleshy throat. But even though she hated this man, he was still her brother, and outright killing your own blood was wrong as wrong could be. You didn’t come back from something like that.
“I’m asking, as your brother, to either join me or step aside. Because otherwise, even though it won’t give me any pleasure, I will have to hurt you. And remember that I know how to hurt you better than anyone.”
“Actually, I think that claim went to Dad.”
“Better than anyone else living,” he amended.
Nettles’s voice got low and quiet. Almost a growl. “You been gone a long time, Mickey. So let me explain to you how it is in the Circle now. We don’t stand for sickboys like you. There is no hell in which you get to run this place.”
“Actually, you’ve been the one gone lately, so let me explain. That may have been true a year ago, when Drem was running a tight ship. But things have changed since then. Times have grown hard and mean. This neighborhood has welcomed me back with open arms, and they don’t give a piss how I get things done as long as they have food in their bilge and a place to sleep at night. Your problem—or one of them, anyway—is that you have lines you don’t cross. Things you won’t do. The wags of Paradise Circle are too desperate right now to afford someone with that many morals weighing them down.”
“They might think so right now, but once they see what you’re truly capable of, they’ll turn on you, true as trouble.”
His lip curled up into a sneer. “You’re even worse than Mom with all her ‘people united’ ideals. When did you get so poncey?”
“That’s right, Mickey,” said Nettles. “I want you to keep thinking that. I’m just your delicate, poncey Rose. You won’t get no trouble from me. You’re safe as shores.”
He glared at her for a long moment. “Just remember, I tried to warn you. I tried to keep you out of it.” Then he turned and began to walk away.
“Hey, Mickey,” she called.
He turned his head just in time to get the weighted end of her chain in his mouth. He cursed and spat out a broken tooth.
“There.” She coiled her chain back up. “That’s your warning. Sorry I’m not as good with words as you.”
He spat more blood, his hands reaching out like meaty claws. “You pissing slice, I will—”
“You’ll what?” She fingered the bladed end of her chain, letting it glint in the streetlight. “Come on, big brother. Let’s see what three years on the Empty Cliffs really taught you.”
His hands clenched into fists. “You’ll see, sweet Rose. You’ll see soon enough.” Then he walked off, much more quickly than before.
15
How is the ambassador?” asked Progul Bon in his dark, oily voice. He and Red sat at their usual table in the back of the imperial library. Most days they spent in quiet study of history, but every once in a while, Bon brought up current events before they began the session.
Red wished he could see the biomancer’s eyes beneath the deep hood. He didn’t like not being able to read him. “Don’t pretend to care about Nea. I know you and the rest of the council want her dead.”
“On the contrary,” said Bon. “As long as she remains in the palace, we wish her the best of health.”
“Meaning, if Aukbontar suspects you’ve killed her, they will come down with a fleet and tear this place right off the side of the mountain,” said Red.
“It is a possibility.” Progul Bon paused for a moment, as if considering an idea. “Of course, if something were to happen to her outside the palace, perhaps on a short trip to some less populated part of Stonepeak… well, we can’t be blamed for such foolhardy actions on the part of the ambassador. All manner of things can happen out there amongst the criminals and seditionists.”
“Go ahead and send Brackson,” said Red. “I’ll be ready for him this time.”
“Yes,” said Bon. “Unfortunate that he used the whistle so soon. He has been punished appropriately.”
&nb
sp; Red’s stomach dropped. The plan had been to lure Brackson out into the open and use him. But if Bon’s idea of “punishment” was anything like biomancers he’d seen before, Brackson wouldn’t be useful to anyone now.
“But don’t worry,” continued Progul Bon. He sounded almost cheerful, which was very out of character for him. “We’ve chosen someone much more skilled this time. Someone who’s apparently becoming a bit of a local legend.”
“That Shadow Demon? I’m not worried,” said Red, showing a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “Thanks to what you gafs have taught me, I think I can handle just about anybody.”
Progul Bon’s cheerful air dropped away. “You have learned nothing from me if you still don’t understand how dangerous the ambassador is to the empire. They come with promises of friendship and mutual benefit, but they will twist that treaty into a hook that will drag us down into a world so terrible, it will make any hell you can imagine look idyllic in comparison. The Dark Mage saw this.”
“The Dark Mage was slippy.”
“That doesn’t make him wrong.” Progul Bon’s hand shot out and gripped Red’s wrist. It felt cold and clammy. He leaned in and lifted his face so that Red got his wish and looked directly into the biomancer’s eyes. He wanted to take that back. Beneath a sagging brow like melted candle wax, the biomancer’s eyes swirled like a putrid black sludge that seemed to transfer directly into Red’s chest, sending a creeping chill down his back.
“Nea Omnipora is a grave threat to the empire and must die,” he intoned.
Red shook off the slimy grip and stood up. “Not while I’m alive.”
Even though he’d just arrived for his lesson, Red turned and left the library. Progul Bon did not try to stop him.
Apparently the prince couldn’t just pop over to his mom’s house whenever he wanted. First, a messenger was sent to inquire with the empress if a visit was convenient. The messenger returned the following day to say that yes a visit from her son was quite convenient. After that a small army of servants were assigned to prepare supplies, gifts, horses, and carriages. Red had also assumed it would just be him, Leston, Nea, and Etcher going on the visit. But it appeared half the nobility of the palace would be coming with them.