Mila really was a genius with a rope, tying a convoluted series of knots that Asti was certain Yenner could never escape from. Asti didn’t think even he could escape from it without using a knife, and even then he wasn’t sure if Yenner could maneuver his hands in a way to use them. Asti had never seen anyone so thoroughly tied up.
“There,” Mila said, stepping back from her work. Yenner, astoundingly, was still out cold, despite hanging from his arms. “You sure you want me to go get the others?”
“They deserve to hear this as well,” Asti said.
“Not sure if you should be alone with him.”
“Then go to the chemist across the street, tell Cort to come join me.”
“Really? Him?”
“Why not? Trust me, he wants to know what old Yenner here has to say.”
“Always struck me as a bit narrow, you know?”
“He is.” Asti nodded. “But he’s our narrow, you know. Part of the alley.”
“If you say so.” She gave another look at Yenner. “Don’t kill him yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Where the blazes did he go?” Verci heard Helene shouting as he walked up the walkway to the inn’s stable. Quiet and subtle, Helene was not. Verci remembered why no one else would work with her; she was incapable of bottling her temper. He chuckled to himself as he limped his way up to the door. He had heard of a few jobs that had almost gotten skunked because she had blown up over something.
“We all clear?” he asked as he walked in. Helene, Julien, Kennith, and the statue were the only ones present.
“Verci!” Helene said. “You made it!” The rage on her face melted away when she saw him.
“Thanks to your cover,” he said.
“How bad is it?” Kennith asked, pointing to a wet red stain on Verci’s tunic.
“Not sure yet,” Verci said. He sat down on a crate and started peeling off clothes. “Not too bad, since I made it here.”
Whatever calm his entrance had given Helene left her just as quickly. “And what happened to Asti? Where was he?”
“Don’t know,” Verci said, wincing as he pulled the shirt off over his head. “Didn’t see him, haven’t heard.”
“He skunked us,” she said.
“Job’s done, sitting right there,” Verci said. “It ain’t skunked if you have the goods and are away and clear.”
“Not clear until it’s gone,” Kennith said.
“Right,” Verci said. He twisted to look at the wound on his right side. Only oozing blood at this point. It wasn’t very deep, but it stretched from shoulder to hip. Verci muttered a few curses. If the cut had gone any deeper, his guts would have poured out onto the street.
“You all right?” Julien asked.
“I’ll make it,” Verci said.
“You look like you need the Yellowshields,” Helene said.
“Not a chance,” Verci said. “Yellowshields would only bring constab with them. We’re far enough away there’s no need to draw any attention this way.”
“It’s your back,” Helene said.
Verci shook it off. “When do we hand over the goods?” Asti was the one who always remembered these details.
“Three bells after midnight,” Kennith said.
“What about Mila?” Julien asked.
“She went looking for Asti,” Verci said. “I was a bit busy covering our retreat.” He pulled out a needle and thread from one of his pouches. “Who wants the honors? Helene?”
“I don’t sew,” she scoffed.
“Kennith?”
“Sure, mate,” Kennith said. He took the needle and held it in the flame of one of the candles. “You want a swig of something first?”
“Nah,” Verci said. “Better to stay sharp.”
“Your choice.” Kennith stood behind Verci and went to work stitching up the wound. Verci gritted his teeth. It hurt like blazes, but he wasn’t going to let anything out.
“So now what?” Helene asked.
“We wait,” Verci said. “Hope Asti and Mila show up. Hope the drop at three bells goes without a hitch. Hope we aren’t stiffed. Hope we live to see the sunrise.”
“Lotta hope,” Julien said with a sad smile.
“Hope and prayer are our stock and trade,” Verci said, quoting something his father had said many, many times. He winced as Kennith did another stitch. “This is why I hate the hit-and-grab runs. Give me a nice, quiet sneak job any day.”
No one responded. Kennith continued sewing the wound. Helene paced back and forth, her jaw clenching tighter and tighter. Julien sat on the floor, his large hands folded in his lap. He was the one who eventually broke the silence.
“Hope Asti is all right. He’s a good guy.”
“He is, Julien,” Verci said. “He’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“He’s at the Gadgeterium.”
Verci’s hand instinctively went to a knife before he saw it was Mila at the door.
“He’s where?” Helene asked, her voice crackling with anger.
“He’s at our shop,” Verci said.
“The one that burned down?” Kennith asked.
“That’s the one,” Mila said. “He wants you all to come.”
Helene snorted and walked away. “Why should we do what he wants, after he skiffed on us?”
“He didn’t skiff, he ran into some trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?” Verci asked.
“Swell with two guards gave him some business,” Mila said. “Turns out, the swell is one Holm Yenner.”
The surprise of that, combined with Kennith putting in another stitch, was more than Verci could contain. “What?” he shouted.
“Who the blazes is Yenner?” Helene asked.
“A man who recently came into some money,” Verci said. “He was a Fire Brigade chief before that. The chief for the Brigade that didn’t come to Holver Alley.”
Helene stopped pacing.
“Did Asti kill him?”
“Not yet,” Mila said. “We tied him up, took him to the Gadgeterium. Asti is there with him now.”
“Alone?” Verci asked.
“Almer Cort joined him,” Mila said, giving Verci a wicked grin.
“Oh, blessed saints,” Verci muttered. He didn’t think he even wanted to know the kind of damage Asti could do to someone with Cort’s help. For all of Cort’s mousy exterior, the man seemed to have a strangely vicious streak. “So he wants all of us, then.”
“You crazy, Rynax?” Kennith asked. “We sweat and bleed for this ugly thing, and we’re all going to go for a little stroll and leave it?”
“I’ll point out only I bled, Ken,” Verci said.
“That doesn’t mean it’s not stupid to leave it alone!”
Verci scratched at his chin. “Fair enough. Odds are against anything happening. But with this many crowns on the line, I don’t like playing the odds. You good keeping watch, Julien?”
“The alarm bells set?” Julien asked. “Mila didn’t ring them.”
“I know where the cords are, Julien,” Mila said, rolling her eyes slightly.
“I’ll leave you a crossbow, all right, Jules?” Helene said. “I’ll just be gone a little while.”
“You really have to go, Helene?” Julien’s big eyes went wide and soft.
“Yeah, Jules. I got to hear this, you know? For both of us.” Helene cocked up a crossbow and put it on the ground next to Julien. She knelt in front of him, touching the side of his face. “You remember what I told you?”
“Center of the body, clean shot,” he said.
“That’s right.” She smiled briefly, but her ice-hard face returned once she stood up and turned around. “What are we waiting for?”
“Kennith,” Verci said.
“I’m not leavi
ng this place or this thing alone, thank you,” Kennith said.
“Jules is staying,” Helene said.
“And so am I.”
“Fine, fine,” Verci said. “Two people keeping watch is smarter. You got a spare shirt you can lend me, Kennith?”
“Yeah.” Kennith went in the back and came out a moment later with a shirt. Verci put it on and left with Helene and Mila.
The night was cool, and they walked at a brisk pace. Verci realized he had left his bandolier at the stable, and going unarmed made him feel exposed and naked. As they walked, his fingers absently found their way down to his belt, fingering the pouches. He touched each one, going over in his head what it contained, considering how it might help him should trouble occur. The telescoping stick would be all right to fight with, though he was never very good with a staff.
When they reached Holver Alley, Verci was struck by how eerie and quiet it was. Dark as well. Only a handful of lamps were burning on the side of the alley the fire hadn’t touched. Verci even noticed a few doors boarded over, signs taken down. Cort’s shop was one of the few that still held both sign and burning lamp.
The door of the Gadgeterium, or what was left of it, hung open, the dark husk of the shop inside beckoning them. Gingerly Verci led the other two inside. Mila walked right behind him, with a confidence he found a bit unbecoming in her. Helene took the rear, stalking like a wolf. A coil wound like she was would spring or break soon.
“Asti?” Verci called out.
“Back room,” Asti’s voice came back. The door, such as it was, was shut. Verci was actually amazed by how much of the building’s structure was intact. Not usable, he thought in quick assessment, as the whole thing was surely unstable. If one wanted to build here, the whole thing would have to be razed and cleared away.
A soft light spilled out as Verci opened the door. At Asti’s hissed urging, the three of them quickly passed in and shut the door behind them.
A few lamps were on the floor, and one hung up on a hook on the uneasy-looking ashen ceiling. Asti stood at the end of what would have been Verci’s workbench, his attention focused on the unconscious man tied up on it. Asti was covered in blood, even his face, but he gave no sign that he noticed or cared. Almer Cort was crouched in the corner of the room, bottles clinking as he dug through a leather bag at his feet.
“He keeps passing out,” Asti said. He looked at the three of them for the first time. “Where’s Ken and Julien?”
“Stayed with the statue at the stable,” Verci said.
“You got it safe, then?” Asti said, nodding.
“No thanks to you,” Helene snapped.
“True, true,” Asti said, holding an open hand to her. “Every right to be angry, Hel. Sloppy mistake on my part, but if it went well, all the better. We get him to spill some words, though, it should make up for it in spades.” Asti’s demeanor was energized, manic. He grinned widely at them, which unsettled Verci significantly. “Good show on you all, really.”
“Thanks,” Helene said. “What’s with this bloke?”
Asti grinned and bent over the man, who Verci presumed was Yenner. “This man was paid very generously to let the alley here burn. I don’t know about you, but I’m very curious to hear what he might have to say.”
“As am I,” Helene snarled.
Asti snickered as he pried his fingers into Yenner’s mouth, another sign of strangely good humor that disturbed Verci. Asti leaned into Yenner’s face, counting teeth in the man’s mouth. Verci glanced around the floor and saw a few teeth scattered on the floor, and quite a lot of fresh blood. “Problem is Mister Yenner has no tolerance for pain. I try and get him to talk, and he goes out like a blown candle.” He punctuated the last words with a succession of slaps across Yenner’s face.
“This should do it,” Cort said, coming over with a vial. He shook the vial and pulled out the cork, which he waved under Yenner’s nose.
“Really?” Asti asked.
“Wait,” Cort said. The chemist mouthed a count of three, two, one, and as he finished Yenner’s eyes shot open, a scream erupting from his mouth. Yenner looked around desperately.
“Who’s there?” he stammered out.
“Impressive, Cort,” Asti said. He moved behind Yenner, crouching so he could whisper into the man’s ear. “Some more friends, Yenner. Some more people you helped ruin.”
“I didn’t ruin anybody,” Yenner sobbed.
“You ruined people. You let people die,” Asti whispered. “You had a job, a duty to save them, but you passed that up for a well-lined purse.”
Yenner’s eyes searched over Verci and the rest. “Please, please . . .” he whimpered at them. “I have money, it’s true . . . please . . . whatever you want, just save me . . .”
Asti clapped an open hand across Yenner’s ear. “We don’t want your blood-covered crowns. We want one thing, one little thing.”
“No, there’s no . . .” Yenner moaned.
“Wrong,” Asti snapped at him. Like lightning, Asti reached into Yenner’s mouth, bracing it open with one hand. He picked up a charred and rusty tool from the workbench and shoved it into Yenner’s gaping maw.
“Asti, those are my pliers!” Verci said. Verci didn’t like anyone touching his tools, even ones he had written off as lost.
“Waii!! Waiii!” Yenner yelled. Asti had his jaw pried open.
“Wait?” Asti said. “You want me to wait?”
“Ye, ye,” Yenner pleaded. Asti let go of his mouth.
“Do you have something to say now?” Asti asked softly. His voice dripped with honey. “Because you have twenty-five teeth left, and every time you pass out, we can wake you up again. And after teeth, there are fingers. Toes. Eyes. All I need to keep working on your body are your ears and tongue.”
“I . . . I was paid . . . to ignore the fire . . .” Yenner panted.
“Who paid you?” Helene roared this out as she leaped up on the table. Asti and Cort scrambled back from her as she savagely grabbed Yenner’s head, her knee in his gut. “Tell us!”
“I . . . don’t know . . .”
“Liar!” she screamed.
“Helene, really, there is an art to—” Asti protested.
“Shut it, Rynax! We lost our grandmother thanks to this slime! He’s going to tell us who paid him!”
Verci was shocked. Neither Helene nor Julien had mentioned that, and he had thought that Old Missus Kesser had passed years ago. “Helene, what do you . . .”
“Her death is on your hands, Yenner! Who?”
“I didn’t . . . I didn’t know . . .” he stammered out weakly.
Helene broke completely, growling as she dove at his face. She clamped her teeth down on Yenner’s prominent nose. Blood gushed forth as she came back up, spitting out the large chunk of flesh she had taken.
“Ah! Oh god!” Yenner cried out. “It was Tyne! Mendel Tyne!”
Helene crumpled as he said this, as if his confession had sapped everything out of her. She would have fallen off the table had Verci not rushed over to catch her.
“Really unprofessional, totally lacking in form,” Asti muttered. Yenner kept yelling out Tyne’s name.
“It worked,” Cort said with a shrug.
“Yes, but it’s the principle of . . . can you put him out again?”
Cort casually stepped over to the screaming man and poured the contents of another vial into his mouth. In a moment, Yenner was silent again.
“Tyne,” Helene said. Her voice was muted, dead of any emotion. She still clutched onto Verci, her hands digging into his arms.
“Tyne, indeed,” Asti said, shaking his head.
“Who is Mendel Tyne?” Mila asked.
Verci answered her. “Tyne’s a rich man, in the Keller Cove neighborhood. Powerful, fingers in the black market and other illegal business. Smuggling, dr
ugs, whores, and slaves. So they say.”
“And gambling,” Asti added. “He runs the other stuff out of his semi-legitimate gambling house. He’s tangled in with big money and big names, as much as any man can be on the southwest of Maradaine.”
“He’s huge,” Helene whispered. “He’s untouchable. He’s the most powerful man in five neighborhoods.” She let go of Verci and walked to the corner of the room.
“Sweet saints,” Mila said. She looked around the room. “What are we going to do?”
Verci looked over to Asti, and as soon as he saw his brother’s eyes, he knew what the answer was.
“We’re going to get him, of course,” Asti said. “If you’re in, that is.”
Helene turned around, her eyes wet, blood still on her lips. She wiped her mouth, and with a muted nod said, “In. Julien and me.”
“Good,” Asti said.
“I’m in,” Mila said quietly.
“You need me, I’m in,” Cort said.
“Brother?” Asti asked.
Verci hesitated. Raych would hate this. It wasn’t necessary. It was dangerous. It was foolish. Reckless. Everything about Asti she didn’t like, everything she wanted him not to be. It was stupid, is what it was.
“It’s impossible, you know,” he told Asti.
“Probably true,” Asti said. “You in?”
“In, damn it,” Verci said. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
Chapter 14
ASTI WAS FEELING CHEERFUL. An angry, vengeance-driven kind of cheerful, but still cheerful. The anger he had been carrying over the fire now had a target, a face, and removing the vague, directionless rage was like a weight off his shoulders.
“Raych is going to be very cross with me, you know,” Verci said. It was nearly two bells after midnight as the four of them—Verci and Asti, Mila, and Helene—walked through the dark streets back to the North Seleth Inn. They still had to make the drop.
“The cash from this gig will sweeten her mood.”
The Holver Alley Crew Page 17