by Tom Lloyd
‘That fat one, Lynx, and the girl,’ Deern said with a scowl. ‘Shitty thing for the boss to do, if you ask me. You were at the Hand Valleys, no?’
She nodded ponderously.
‘The girl?’ Braqe asked after a long moment of thinking.
‘You’ve not seen it?’ His voice dropped low and conspiratorial. ‘Bitch is from So Han too, half-caste anyway but with that lot it’s all the same. It’s in the blood with them, ain’t it?’
‘The girl’s Hanese?’ That made her sit up a bit straighter. ‘I didn’t know. Fuck.’
She took the bottle and flipped the top open to sniff the contents. Moonshine of some sort, but not the gut rot that was normally sold to mercenaries.
‘Aye, heard her myself, but you go have a look at her face, beneath all that hair she’s Hanese all right.’
Braqe took a swig of the moonshine and closed her eyes to savour the fiery liquid as it slipped down her throat. ‘Good stuff,’ she said eventually. ‘Where’d you get it?’
‘Made nice with one o’ the bar girls.’ Deern grinned. ‘Uppity cow wouldn’t lift her skirts for me, but she sold me some of this at a good price instead.’
Braqe nodded and was lost in the flames for a long while again, letting the flow of her thoughts drift with the colours that danced above the fire. ‘So, two Hanese in the company. That’s bad.’
‘You fought them, didn’t you?’
‘If you can call it fighting. Bastards tore us apart.’
The colours seemed to fade as her memory took her back to the war, the rain-sodden nights and short, frantic days of fighting retreats that had been all she’d seen of the fighting. ‘They strung up all those they caught, hung ’em from trees, opened their guts and let the birds feast while they were still alive.’
Her hand tightened as though she held a gun rather than the bottle of moonshine. ‘I had to cut my own brother’s throat,’ she said, voice choked with the memory. ‘What they’d done to him, it was a mercy to finish him off, but …’
‘But that weren’t war, it was a slaughter,’ Deern finished. ‘I’m just sayin’, I got your back if you want to do something about it.’
‘Kill Lynx?’
‘Risky, man was a commando. Just the sort who killed your brother, most likely.’
She turned to squint at the weasel-faced man. ‘What, then? Boss clearly wants him around, Teshen too.’
‘Must be something we can do. Sell him out to the Charnelers, mebbe? Grasiel’s got lots of Militant Order types, probably Charnelers among ’em.’
She shook her head. ‘Won’t bring that shit down on my comrades, no chance.’
‘Course not,’ Deern said, ‘but the right word in the right ear, mebbe? Could be we make some money off selling both of ’em out.’ There was an eagerness to his voice now, a hunger that sounded almost sexual to Braqe’s ears as the slow fizz of Wisp Dust caressed her mind.
‘And say what?’
He shrugged. ‘We passed ’em on the road, close enough to the truth. Might be Lynx slipped off at night, came back with a full purse and some half-caste girl in tow. He’s some sort of exile, easy enough to believe he’s kept the old ways alive and reckons she’s his property, couldn’t stand to see anyone else take her as a slave. You mention she’s a mage and they’ll be keen enough to get her back.’
‘And you’d back me up? Thought you didn’t like my kind?’
Deern looked outraged at the suggestion. ‘You’re solid, been with the company a long while. You proved your worth to us all and I’ve got no beef with you. That bastard Himbel I hate, sure, but it ain’t for the colour of his skin. Miserable shite’s always had it out for me, and Kas opens her legs for half the goatherds she passes on the road. I got no respect for either, but I don’t hold it against the rest o’ you.’
Braqe nodded and took another swig before handing the bottle back. ‘Kas is all right.’
‘The woman can fight,’ Deern conceded, ‘and that’s what’s most important, that you can trust who’s beside you – who’s giving you orders. Don’t mean I have to like her personally to trust her scouting.’ He took a big mouthful of moonshine, grimacing slightly at the kick, which made Braqe smile.
‘True,’ she agreed. ‘Anatin knows I ain’t the only one who fought ’em. Mebbe I should do something about it.’
‘And if we get a small reward in the process,’ Deern added, eyes watering slightly, ‘that’s all the better, and less than So Han owes you.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
Deern bobbed his head in understanding. ‘The call’s yours, just thought you deserved to know who might be watching your back one o’ these days. I heard Lynx tell the girl she should cosy up to Himbel, get him to teach her healing and bone-setting. Doesn’t sound like she’ll be moving on so fast if she becomes his apprentice.’
As the moonshine warmed her belly, the Wisp Dust seemed to wax stronger and the air was filled with light drifting on the slight breeze. Soon she was lost in her private pleasures again and never even noticed Deern slip away. The fire burned and the drug carried her up on the warm air, far away from the knot of anger in her belly, until she eased herself back and sank down on the bed of grass behind her, eyes slowly closing as the Skyriver burned overhead.
‘Have you been to a city before?’ Lynx asked.
He spoke only just loud enough for Sitain to hear over the sound of a recruit arguing with Deern over the rat content of bread. A few others were chipping in with helpful comments to ensure the argument continued, gleefully stoking the fires of irritation. The day was much like the last; dull cloud and yet more road ahead of them, but finally they were nearing their destination and spirits were high at the prospect. The faint trace of smoke and muck had been on the breeze all day, a sure sign they were nearing civilisation.
‘No, why?’
Lynx ignored the defensive note to her voice. He’d been expecting it. A farm girl like Sitain would’ve hardly seen a town of note, but no one liked to have their inexperience pointed out.
‘Can be a shock is all,’ he said calmly. ‘I was scared by the size of it the first time I saw one – and I was attacking it at the time.’
‘During the war?’ Sitain asked in a quiet voice.
‘Yup. Guess you heard more’n your fair share about that, did you?’
She shook her head. ‘My ma wouldn’t have talk o’ So Han. She got out well before the war, was married to Da long enough that few got in her face about all the rumours.’
Lynx grunted. ‘Good. None of it was her fault, but that doesn’t stop most.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Brutal.’ Lynx surprised himself by how quickly he replied. It wasn’t his favourite subject, the war, but it was behind him now at least. What followed was a rawer memory and one he wouldn’t discuss freely, but in recent years he’d found himself able to separate out the two.
‘Not much of a war, either, more a conquest. We were just gobbling up principalities for fun it seemed, faced by untrained and poorly equipped troops most of the time. The Militant Orders were tougher, but they weren’t ready to bring the fight to us once we were dug in like ticks.’
‘And then it all fell apart.’
Lynx nodded. ‘Tribes weren’t so united as our glorious leader had thought. Nor were his sons, come to think of it. Man thought they were loyal to the death, but once they were out of his shadow and lords of the new lands, they changed their tune quick enough. Were having too much fun for obedience to be the order of the day.’
‘So you left? Deserted?’
‘I left,’ Lynx said curtly. ‘Had seen through it all by then and wanted none of that life. Been on the road ever since.’
Sitain sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, an affectation she’d acquired since Kas had cut her hair as short as a boy’s, only down to her ears rather than the long curls she’d once sported. They had nothing to dye it with, but in Grasiel there would be a variety of choices and until they
found something, in the city itself she’d wear a scarf over her hair. She already had a knife bandolier over her clothes to make her look more like a part of the company.
‘And the road brings you to Grasiel,’ she said in a strange, wistful way.
‘The road brings you all places, if you want it to,’ he replied. ‘Today it’s Grasiel, just a place like any other. It’s the people in those places that matter.’
‘Grasiel’s like no other place I’ve seen,’ she reminded him. ‘Have you been there?’
‘Once. It’s big and messy, so far as I remember. Easy to get lost so stick to the outer districts. I don’t know if the Knights-Charnel have any way of sniffing you out, but best you don’t find yourself getting questioned by the guards of some merchant palace or chapterhouse for not knowing where you’re walking, eh?’
‘I’m not stupid and you’re not my da,’ Sitain snapped.
He bit down his irritation. ‘I ain’t trying to be,’ Lynx said, ‘but surprise makes a fool of us all if we let it.’
She made an irritated sound and broke into a little trot, just enough to make a gap and put her close to Teshen at the head of the group of Tempests. There was little in the way of column order with the Cards so that caused no interest from the rest, but Lynx still found himself swearing under his breath at her. The first time he’d been in a city as anything other than part of the army sacking it, he couldn’t stop tripping over his feet as the press of humanity ebbed and flowed around him.
But she’s right, she ain’t my daughter, Lynx told himself. So if she wants to do something stupid and get herself taken, or worse, it’s not on me. There’s the job at hand and that’s all – not Sitain and not Kas either, come to think of it.
He looked up and saw a grey haze in the distance, the marks that only something as large as a city could leave on the sky.
So mebbe a day or two rest there? Anatin resupplies the wagons, hits up his contacts in case there’s word of more work going while Payl and Teshen scout the job. Doubt this lot will be happy unless they get a couple of nights gambling under their belts either, which means they’ll be in no state to do anything useful afterwards.
He brightened. Cities meant bookshops and a merchant city like Grasiel would have a few printing presses, which would mean several shops. Books were heavy when you walked most places and he could only justify the weight of one in his pack. His current had lasted him three months and he was keen to trade it in for something new. With his share of plunder from Commander Ntois he could more easily afford that. In the lean years he’d not been so lucky.
From up ahead came a shout, the order to halt being relayed back to the rear of the group so by fits and starts the mercenaries stopped. Lynx saw Anatin swing up into the saddle of his horse and ride down the line until he was near the middle. There he stopped, his force of forty-odd small enough to address all together. He gave one final check up and down the road but the only travellers within sight were a family with a wagon of vegetables up ahead.
‘Right – you all remember what company you’re in? The Steel Crows, right? And is anyone unclear about whether we’re here to work or fucking play?’
There was a bark to his voice there and even Lynx, new to the company, could tell the man was deadly serious. Best to get in and out as fast as they could, before too much bad luck could follow them up the road. If other Knights or a Charneler patrol discovered the bodies, they might well hurry along to either catch the murderers or inform the Knights-Charnel chapterhouse in Grasiel.
‘Good,’ Anatin continued after a glare round at his troops that ended on Lynx. ‘We’ll be taking lodgings and you’ll all fucking stay there tonight, hear me? There’ll be drink, whores and a game but it stays at the inn. No running into old comrades in the city’s pubs, Varain; no picking fights with watchmen, Safir; no getting caught up in a criminal underworld blood feud, Teshen; and certainly no dragging Reft to any sort of bloody pit-fighting arena, you hear me, Deern? We’re on a job and no one mentions the company’s name or gets themselves noticed until we’re clear.’
A grumble of assent rolled around the company like far-distant thunder, but it seemed to satisfy Anatin and he waved the column on again. Lynx paused, half-expecting to be called over by the commander and chewed out a little more, but Anatin simply bestowed one final baleful look on him and reined around to retake his place at the fore of the company.
The afternoon was well under way by the time they reached the city wall – or what passed for a city wall anyway. Grasiel was a merchant city, ruled by men and women of trade and one of many that had seen the folly in impressive defences. Instead they had only a nominal wall and relied on their importance to the region to be their shield, with mostly consortium guards keeping order on the streets.
The outskirts bled into the fields beyond, most of which were occupied by mismatched villages of tents and wagons. Within the chaos it was possible to identify the various flags, symbols and liveries that defined fiefdoms of the merchant princes who controlled each district and made up the Council of the Assayed – judged by their peers to be rich enough to decide the city’s laws.
From the highway they were travelling on, Lynx could see much of what characterised the city. A drover clan controlled their left flank, red and blue fetishes in the wild sandy hair of its blue-eyed guards, while on the right was a mining family’s domain, expansive hoods shading the pale faces and black eyes of its custodians. Grasiel was dominated by two tribes, the Asann and the Surei, who controlled the major trades and tried to ignore the existence of each other. So while there were no great walls to the city, many districts were made up of enclosed compounds which, at times of tensions, folk like Lynx would be hired to protect.
The streets running off the highway soon evolved into a tight urban sprawl of mud brick, their only impediment to entry being a pair of yellow-caped Assayers, officials of the Council of the Assayed. They were a pair of tall Surei women in quilted jackets with holstered mage-pistols, the hoods of their capes raised to display the symbols of the city. Their interest was more in service of trade than anything else in these lesser parts of the city. Upon discovering the Steel Crows were only passing through the city, they lost interest and waved them towards a large copper-roofed building on the Asann side.
Lynx had expected that much. The Asann controlled most of the things mercenaries were interested in after a long march and he was far from unhappy about that. The city’s forges would be Surei-owned, and anywhere metal was being shaped you’d find Knights keeping a discreet eye on things.
It took a long bout of haggling to secure space for the entire company, both Anatin and the innkeeper seemingly unaware that they were effectively blocking the street until the Assayers stepped in. At that point the two immediately agreed on a compromise price and the Steel Crows started to clatter through the wagon-sized archway, calling for beer.
The faces of the inn’s other guests told a rather less welcoming story, but the sight of Payl bellowing her troops into order seemed to alleviate matters. With the count at forty-four in the company they easily outnumbered the other patrons and unit discipline would be the only thing preventing trouble. The main part of the inn was a three-storey building on their right, abutted by a wooden bunkhouse, while ochre bricks peeked out through breaks in a curtain of viper rose around the perimeter until it reached the stables on the far side. The wagons were backed up beside that under a battered slate roof, then the horses taken off to be cared for.
As the tables along the inn’s side of the courtyard quickly filled with thirsty mercenaries, Lynx followed Teshen and several of his fellow Tempests – no, not currently, right now they were Shrikes – towards the bunkhouse where a shirtless and grinning young lad waved them forward with exaggerated gestures.
‘You watch the bunkhouse?’ Teshen demanded of the youth. No more than twelve years old, he was so tanned it seemed unlikely he’d ever worn anything more than his ragged trousers, which made his brilliant blu
e eyes all the more startling.
‘I do, sir – come, take your beds. Clean blankets, no lice, and the snakes eat all the rats!’
Lynx almost laughed before he realised the youth was offering his hand forward. Curled around his arm was a dusty-brown snake, tongue questing out towards the mercenaries.
Teshen gave the youth a level look. ‘Make sure my blanket’s cleaner than everyone else’s,’ he said, ‘and you keep a good watch on our kit. Every one of us has their cartridge count in their head.’ As though by magic he produced a blade. Lynx barely saw his hands move; one moment they were by his side, the next Teshen had a knife blade touched to the back of the snake’s head. ‘Or you’ll find out I really am faster’n a snake.’
The youth’s eyes widened at that, his air of confidence shaken enough that he just swallowed and bobbed his head.
‘Good,’ Teshen said, a little more gently. ‘What’s your name, boy?’
‘Calil, sir,’ he said with downcast eyes, touching protective fingers to the unharmed snake.
‘I’m the Hammer of the Steel Crows,’ Teshen said. ‘Any o’ these fucks mess with you, you just let me know, right? I set a high value on anyone who brings me clean blankets.’
The youth nodded and scuttled inside. Teshen gave his subordinates a cold grin and followed. Soon they each had assigned bunks – nothing in the way of privacy, but at the back of Lynx’s mind was a hope that he’d not be sleeping there anyway. Through the open shutters of the window came a gust of wind and the sweet flavours of onion, garlic and pork, frying somewhere in the inn. As Lynx turned to breathe it all in his stomach rumbled loud enough for Braqe to look up from where she was and snort.
‘No one better get between fat boy and his dinner,’ she muttered.
Lynx looked at the wary faces that turned his way, anticipating trouble, and gave his ample belly a slap. ‘Can’t argue there, I’m a man of appetites.’
Before she could reply he tossed his tricorn on to his bunk and theatrically pushed his sleeves up, declaring, ‘Now all o’ you get out my way! There’s beer somewhere out there needs hunting down.’