by Jon Skovron
She looked up then, and saw Sadie, her withered cheek resting on Red’s shoulder as she dozed. Hope reached out and laid her hand on Sadie’s back, feeling the faint warmth of her body through the blankets. For some reason, it gave her some small comfort.
At the far end of the church was a stone spiral staircase that she suspected led up to the bell tower. The staircase was narrow, and there were no railings.
After they had climbed a good while, Hope asked, “Do you want me to take over?”
“No,” grunted Red, his face flushed and his temples gleaming with sweat.
“You don’t have to be a hero, you know,” she said.
“I didn’t say I was a hero. Just said I wanted to carry her. Let’s keep moving. We’ve got a ways to go yet.”
Hope followed behind as they continued up the stairs, ready to grab either of them if he should slip. By this time, it was quite a drop down.
When they reached the bell tower, Hope saw that the bell had been removed. Now it was only an empty space. It was like the crow’s nest of a ship that looked out over a sea of rooftops shining in the midday sun.
“She don’t look half-bad from up here,” said Red, nodding toward the city stretched below them. “Up close, she’s all boils and pox. But from this distance, she looks a fine old lady.”
“Hey,” said Sadie, still draped across his back. “Watch who yer callin’ fine.”
Red gently laid her down on the weathered wood-planked floor.
“You,” he said, “are heavier than you look.”
She grinned, showing her empty gums. “It’s me cruel, stony heart.”
Red laughed a short burst and turned to Hope, his eyes bright with gratitude. “You were right. The cold fresh air is helping already.”
“It lessens the symptoms temporarily,” said Hope. “She’ll need to stay up here and take the medicine regularly for the next day and night. That should give the medicine time to kill the fungus.”
“Fungus?” Red looked alarmed. “Like mushrooms?”
“More like mold, really. It sets up in the lungs, stopping them from using the air she takes in. If it spreads throughout, she’ll suffocate.”
“We won’t let that happen,” said Red.
“Of course not.”
“You there,” said Sadie, her voice gaining a little more strength. “What’s this? I got mold in my wheres?”
“Your lungs,” said Hope.
“The things you breathe with,” said Red.
“I breathe with my mouth,” said Sadie.
“After the air goes through your mouth, it goes down into your chest,” said Red. “There are two air sacs in there called lungs. They collect the air for the rest of your body.”
“Piss’ell, where’d you learn a thing like that?” asked Sadie. “In all those piles of books you read, I suppose.”
“You read?” asked Hope.
“Eh, sure,” said Red, looking uncomfortable.
“A lot?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced around. “I better go down and see if Nettie or Filler need help carrying anything up.” He turned to Sadie. “You alright?”
“Getting there,” said Sadie.
“Be nice to Hope here. She just about saved your life today.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Red turned to Hope. “Which means she won’t try to stab you or rob you. As for the rest, who knows? Just promise me you won’t toss her over the side if she offends you, which she probably will.”
Hope smiled slightly. “You have my word.”
Once Red was out of earshot, Sadie turned her bloodshot eyes on Hope. There was not a shred of weakness in her gaze. “Well, now, molly girl, what’s your story?”
“My story?” asked Hope, sitting down next to her.
“Everybody’s got one. And a pretty little slice like you with such old eyes is sure to have a good one.”
“I told my story once, a long time ago,” said Hope. “I swore I would never tell it again.”
“Ah,” said Sadie.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s just—”
“I don’t give a piss about respect. Or much else anymore.” Sadie squinted at Hope. “But I do care about that boy. Under all that balls-and-pricks talk of his, he’s got a heart like a rain song. And I don’t want no Southie slice stepping all over it. Keen?”
“Oh, I think you misunderstand,” said Hope. “Red and I are…well, friends, perhaps. Although even that seems a little premature. Certainly nothing more.”
“That what you think?” Sadie looked at her a moment, then shrugged. “What does an old wrink like me know? Maybe you’ve got the right of it.”
“I do.”
“Sunny.”
They sat there for a bit, side by side, the wind whistling past as they stared out at the skyline of New Laven.
“Funny thing,” said Sadie. “Red has a story, too. Terrible sad one. He only told it to one person.”
“You, of course,” said Hope.
“How’d you know that?”
“It’s obvious. He treasures you more than anything or anyone on this earth.”
“Treasure? Me?” Sadie laughed, but that turned into a nasty wet cough.
“It’s true,” said Hope. “When we were underground in that awful place, and he thought he was losing you…” Hope stopped as she recalled the look of pain on his face. A pain she knew all too well. “I didn’t want to watch.”
“But you did.”
“I always do.”
Off in the distance came a low rumble of thunder.
“Where’s your treasure?” asked Sadie.
“Gone,” said Bleak Hope, her voice growing distant. She thought of her parents. Of Hurlo. Of Carmichael. The darkness spread within her like the comfort of an old friend. “I have no treasure now. Only vengeance.”
“On who?” asked Sadie.
“The list has grown long.”
* * *
While the fresh air had helped, Sadie was still weak and dangerously ill. Their brief conversation had exhausted her. Hope wrapped her up in blankets like the fish rolls her mother used to make her, then watched as the old woman nodded off.
Hope turned her gaze out over the skyline. As the storm clouds moved closer, she wondered why thoughts of her childhood seemed to be boiling dangerously close to the surface. Was it the feeling of unbalance she’d had since entering Red’s world? Or was it his mother figure that made her long for one of her own? Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it. She had much to do, and a head lost in the past could not tend to the present.
A short time later, Red returned, carrying a large cast-iron pot filled halfway with water. With him was a boy about their age. He towered over Red, however, easily six and a half feet tall. He had short brown hair that stuck out in all directions and a light shadow of beard. He was carrying a large cord of wood and a thick rough towel.
“This is the wag I was telling you about,” Red said to her. “Filler, meet Hope.”
“Good to meet you,” said Hope.
Filler gave her a shy smile, then set to work arranging the wood for a fire.
“Where’s Nettles?” asked Hope.
“I asked her to go back to Gunpowder Hall,” said Red. “Like as not, Drem’s men will come looking for us there eventually. I want a lookout in case this is their next stop.”
“Why would it be?” she asked.
“Backus might tell them where we are.”
“But you said he’s been helping you take care of Sadie. Why would he do anything to endanger her now?”
“Because that’s how it is in the Circle,” said Red. “You do what you can for people when you can, but when the boss calls, you do what you’re told.”
“That’s wrong,” said Hope.
“Nothing personal. It’s how you survive. Only a few people you’re willing to cross somebody like Drem for. Me, Filler, and Nettles, and of course Sadie here. That’s it.”
&nbs
p; “You crossed Drem for me,” said Hope.
Red turned away from her, knelt down next to Filler, and began helping him arrange the wood and kindling.
“Anyway,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m sure this isn’t the first wrong thing you’ve seen since you’ve been hanging around me. Whores, drinking, gambling, and suchlike. Surprised you can even stand to be around street scum like us.”
“There’s a difference between cultural values and blatant disloyalty,” said Hope. “While I admit I’m uncomfortable having a conversation with a naked man in a brothel, I would not call him or how he chooses to make a living ‘wrong.’ But betraying someone you care about? That is wrong.”
“She talks kinda like you,” Filler said to Red.
“You,” said Red, shaking a finger at him, “are not helping. Now let’s focus on getting this fire started.”
Hope watched as Filler took a tinderbox from his pocket and laid some thin shavings of wood over the larger pieces. He then struck a flint, throwing sparks on the shavings.
Red had avoided the question about helping her, which made her even more curious. She felt she knew him well enough by this time to say that he was fiercely loyal to the people close to him. But they were all people he had built relationships with over a long period of time. So why would he include her in that group? Paradise Circle was his whole world, and Drem the most powerful man in it. He had risked so much to help her. Why?
Red and Filler had a nice small fire going. Filler seemed skilled with controlling the fire, probably thanks to his training as a blacksmith. While he set the pot on top to boil, Red moved over to Sadie and gently shook her awake. Her eyes fluttered open in a slight panic, but when she saw him looking down at her, she smiled and laid her thin, boney hand on his cheek.
Hope remembered how Sadie had mistakenly thought that she and Red were…a couple. When Hope had disagreed, she immediately backed off, which seemed out of character for the feisty old woman. What if Sadie was right? After all, she knew Red far better than Hope did. What if the reason Red had risked so much to help Hope was because he…
But that didn’t make any sense. He didn’t even know her. Not really.
“Water’s starting to boil,” said Filler.
“What do we do now?” Red asked.
“Add the medicine,” said Hope. “Have Sadie lean over the pot, then cover her head and the top of the pot with the towel to trap the steam. Sadie should breathe as deeply as possible for a few minutes, or as long as she can take it.”
Red carefully helped Sadie over to the pot. She was still so weak, he had to support her as she leaned in over the steaming pot. After a minute, Sadie began coughing in loud, wet bursts.
“What’s happening?” asked Red, looking at Hope with alarm.
“Her body is trying to get rid of the fungus. Move her away from the pot.”
Red tilted her to the side just in time, as a glob of bright-orange-colored mucus hit the wooden floor.
“Piss’ell,” said Filler, his brown eyes wide. “That was inside her?”
“That’s not all of it,” said Hope. “She should rest for a bit, but we’ll need to do this several times before her lungs are clear.”
“How will we know when it’s gone?” asked Red.
“When she isn’t spitting orange anymore,” said Hope.
They repeated the process three more times. Each time, Sadie could breathe in the medication a little longer, and there was a little less orange in her phlegm.
By the time they had finished the fourth treatment, the sky was growing dark. As Red laid Sadie down in her blankets to rest and Filler stoked the fire, Hope sat back against one of the wooden support beams and closed her eyes. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the clean air the high tower provided.
“Hey.” Red’s voice was right beside her.
She opened her eyes and watched as he leaned back against the same support post so that their shoulders were touching. It felt oddly comforting, so she didn’t move away.
“Thank you,” he said. “I think you probably understand how important Sadie is to me. And you’ve saved her life.”
“I’m glad I could help,” she said. “That I could repay you for helping me escape from Drem’s men.”
“You didn’t owe me for that,” he said. “I’m glad I did it. I’m…glad I met you.”
“Likewise,” said Hope. “You are…interesting.”
“Interesting?” Red smiled wryly. “I guess I’ll take it. Better than being boring, anyway.”
“You are not boring,” she assured him.
“Yeah, I took you on a merry little run, didn’t I?”
“Yes. I suppose it was…fun.” She felt guilty admitting that. A Vinchen warrior wasn’t motivated by “fun” or thrill seeking. But it was true. It had been fun.
“You probably have serious Vinchen things to get back to after this, I expect,” said Red.
“Oh,” said Hope, her guilt deepening. “Yes. I’m afraid I do.”
“Of course,” said Red. “And, eh…this Vinchen business of yours, it’s probably something you have to do alone?”
“It’s not something anyone would want to do with me.”
Red turned to her, his ruby eyes flickering in the firelight. “You sure about that?”
Hope stared at him, unsure what to say. Unsure what he meant. In that moment, unsure of just about everything.
“Look bright, wags!” Nettles’s voice cracked like a whip from the staircase. “We’ve got company on the way!”
All three were on their feet by the time Nettles had reached the top step.
“How many?” asked Red.
“Maybe a dozen or so, all armed with revolvers.”
“They’re fools to come here,” said Hope as she loosened the Song of Sorrows in its sheath. “We have the high ground. They would have been doomed with twice that number.”
All of Hope’s anxiety and confusion evaporated like fog in a sunbeam. This was something she was sure about.
18
Life hands you a lot of disappointments. And sometimes it gives you things, only to snatch them away from you shortly after. Red knew this. It seemed to him almost as if it was by design, one cruel joke after another. But not this time. He would not have Sadie saved from sickness, only to be gunned down by Drem’s men.
Still. Twelve boots with revolvers, and no means of escape. He wasn’t sure how they were going to come out on the other side of this. Hope seemed good from the little Red had seen in the Drowned Rat. Really good. But if he was wrong about her, this whole thing would go leeward real quick.
Red moved Sadie as far from the stairs as possible and wrapped her in blankets so she didn’t get a chill. Then he joined Hope, Nettles, and Filler at the top of the stairs. Nettles held her chainblade loosely coiled in her hands. Filler had his short mace. Hope held her sword in her hand, but it was still sheathed. Drem’s men were slowly climbing the stairs, revolvers drawn.
“So should we wait until they get to the top, then start knocking them down?” asked Red.
“No,” said Hope. “Too risky to let them get this close to Sadie. We meet them halfway, where the drop is still enough to kill or incapacitate them, but we have room to fall back if necessary.”
“And who put you in charge, angel slice?” asked Nettles.
Hope shrugged. “Fine. Stay here and wait. But you’ll miss the fight, because I don’t plan to let any of them make it to the top.”
“What—” said Red. But then he watched as Hope, sheathed sword still in hand, dove gracefully over the side and down the center. The men on the stairs were not expecting that. They shouted to each other and fired in wild panic. Hope’s drop was carefully angled so that she intersected with one man about halfway down, using him to cushion her impact as she slammed him into the stone wall. Her sword gave an eerie hum as it slid from its sheath. Then she jumped across the gap to the next level of stairs, cutting off the head of one gunman and the arm of another.
“Piss’ell,” said Filler. “She means it.”
Red grinned. “We better get down there and take some for ourselves before it’s too late, then. The honor of the Circle is at stake here, my wags.”
The three of them hurried down the steps like normal human beings while Hope zigzagged back and forth across the gap in the middle, never in one place more than a second, never giving them time to aim, much less fire. The grace and control he’d seen hints of ever since he first saw her were now in full expression. She was like a force of nature, savage as a storm and fast as fire. He had hoped she was good, and for the first time he could remember, life not only avoided disappointing; it delivered beyond expectation.
Of course, it was twelve of Drem’s nastiest boots armed with revolvers, and Hope couldn’t avoid them all. But Red was happy to watch her back, tossing blades at the ones out of her reach. They dropped over the edge, clutching at throats, or knees, whichever was more open. And as Hope had predicted, the fall was just enough that no matter where they’d been wounded, they didn’t get back up again.
With her impressive acrobatics and her flashing, humming blade, all eyes were on Hope. They didn’t see Filler as he came barreling down into the largest cluster of them, laying about him with his mace, knocking several over the edge at once.
“Filler, look out!” called Nettles.
One gunman with a bit of distance had a clear shot on him. Nettles flung out her chainblade. The blade stabbed into the gunman’s hand, and he dropped the revolver. She yanked back on her chain, jerking him off balance and over the edge. She stepped on the weighted end of the chain and braced herself. The chain went taut for a moment, then slack, as the blade ripped free from the gunman’s hand and he fell to the bottom.