Hope and Red

by Jon Skovron

  Shouts of agreement echoed around the theater.

  “You’re all pissing bludgeon!” shouted Brackson, thrashing on his rope, blood flinging from his face. “Don’t you get it? We’re talking about pissing biomancers here! The right hand of the emperor himself. You haven’t got a chance. I’ve seen them do things you can’t even imagine!”

  The audience grew quieter to listen.

  “Yes.” Brackson nodded vehemently. “You never met one, but you’ve heard the stories your whole lives. Even when you were just a child, your mom and dad told you, ‘If you don’t behave, the biomancers’ll get ya!’ Oh, and they will! Let me tell you all, I have seen it with my own eyes, and every story you have ever heard is true. Why the hells do you think I went along with Drem? Because I was—and still am—pissing terrified of them. And you all should be, too.”

  “It’s true,” said Red, “that we face the right hand of the emperor. But what if I were to tell you that we have the left hand? Toms and mollies, I give you…Bleak Hope.”

  Hope dropped down from the flies, landing on one knee, the sheathed Song of Sorrows extended in front of her. A new surge of talk went through the crowd, but it was subdued and whispered.

  “Yes, you see the armor and the sword,” said Red. “You know who, or what, this is. A Vinchen warrior. It just so happens, she has sworn to end the life of any biomancer she can find. And we’ve all heard the stories about Vinchen and their oaths, haven’t we?”

  Red turned to Brackson. “You’re right about those biomancers. We were brought up to fear them, and with good reason. I’ve seen the awful things they can do.” He turned back to the audience. “But if we were scared by stories of biomancers, weren’t we inspired by the stories of the Vinchen? Warriors unlike any other, with a code of honor that protected all, not just the rich and noble. Remember Selk the Brave, who saved the village of Walta from a swarm of goblin sharks? Or Manay the True, who ended the Dark Mage’s reign? Or Hurlo the Cunning, who single-handedly defeated the brutal Jackal Lords? These Vinchen live as the poorest people in the empire, down in the Southern Isles, far from the splendor of Stonepeak. Why? Because they swore not to serve a single emperor but the whole of the empire. And last I checked, that includes us.”

  He paused, letting that all sink in. There was complete silence and all eyes were on him. Even Hope’s. He couldn’t help but savor the moment.

  “So let Drem have his nightmares. We have our hero.”

  The audience exploded in a cheer that shook the boards beneath his feet.

  “Tell everyone!” he shouted. “Tomorrow at noon we march on the Three Cups! And we take back our home! Where it’s cold and it’s wet!”

  “And the sun doesn’t get!” roared the crowd.

  “But still it’s my home!” called Red.

  “BLESS THE CIRCLE!” rang through the theater like a monsoon.

  21

  Hope stood on the grimy stage of the Rag and Boards and looked out at a hundred or more people who were cheering, in part, because of her. Because of what they thought she was. She stood silent and still, forcing herself not to cringe. She was not a true Vinchen. She had not passed the final ordeal or taken the final vows of chastity, poverty, and service. Without those, she could never truly call herself a Vinchen warrior.

  But she understood why Red had said all that. These people needed to believe in someone or something that would be a match for a biomancer. Having grown up in the Southern Isles, she hadn’t realized how much these Northerners idolized the Vinchen order. When she’d heard her own grandteacher’s name called forth like a legend, it had flooded her with such pride and sadness, she had to fight to keep the grim, formidable poise she knew Red wanted her to maintain.

  “Just do the pat hard molly look you do,” he’d said beforehand. “They’ll drain the bucket on that.”

  And they had. Which made it all the harder to bear. But even if she was no true Vinchen, she hoped she could at least free them from the biomancer plot. The idea was almost beyond comprehension. All of downtown New Laven—thousands of people—condemned to the same fate as the people of Murgesia. As her village. What sort of emperor would allow that? Would command it? She’d always agreed with Hurlo that it was best for the Vinchen order to remove themselves from the politics of Stonepeak. But she couldn’t help wondering: If they had been closer, could they have curbed such excessive and cruel abuse of power before it reached this point?

  It was too late for that now, though. She wished she could have brought more warriors with her. But, of course, they would never heed her call. If they came at all, it would be to kill her. She would have to make do without them. At least she could count on Red, Nettles, and Filler to hold their own. The rest of these people seemed more like an impulsive, disorganized rabble than the “army” that Red had promised. She hoped Big Sig had a slightly more disciplined group.

  The next day, Hope found out that “slightly” was about right.

  They had agreed that the Paradise Circle and Hammer Point armies would meet in front of the Drowned Rat. All the Paradise Circle people were there, restless, belligerent, many of them already drunk despite the fact that it was only noon. A few had knives or axes, and the occasional mace. But most were armed with lead pipes, broken glass, bricks, and other items that could barely be considered weapons.

  “Finally,” said Nettles. “Here comes the Hammer.” She pointed down the street at the mass of people coming toward them. “Red, you better get over there so there’s no misunderstandings here. I’d hate to waste all this fighting spirit on the wrong people.”

  “Keen.” Red looked over at Hope. “Coming?”

  “Of course.” Hope had never been in a battle of this magnitude, but she had studied tactics and strategy extensively. She suspected none of the others had, although perhaps the Hammer Point leaders, with their endless infighting, had experience. Between the two, maybe they could come up with a workable strategy.

  Hope and Red walked the slowly shortening gap between the mob of Paradise Circle and the mob of Hammer Point. When they got close, Big Sig held up his huge hands and shouted for everyone to stop. It took a little while, but eventually the mass of people ground to a halt.

  Sig had absorbed Thorn Billy’s gang. He had also been able to recruit the dark-skinned Palla and his gang. Hope wondered if Palla had come from across the Dark Sea like Carmichael’s father. She hoped she’d be able to ask him when this was over.

  They all stood in the cobblestone street. Great clouds of steam rose up from Big Sig’s mob into the chilly, bright, midday air.

  “Where is Drem holed up?” asked Palla. “And does he know we’re coming?”

  “I’m sure he does by now,” said Red. “With any luck, he didn’t catch wind of it until you marched across the border this morning. That wouldn’t give him much time to fortify the Three Cups and call in his people.”

  “And without luck?” asked Big Sig.

  “He heard about it last night as soon as I started recruiting, and the Three Cups is now a pissing fortress.”

  “So it could turn into a siege, then?” asked Hope.

  “Nice idea, but we won’t have time to starve them out,” said Red. “The imps won’t like the rabble gathering in force like this, even if it’s us fighting each other. It won’t take them but a few hours after we engage before they bring a platoon with guns or worse down on our heads.”

  “So what happens if we run into fortifications?” asked Palla.

  “We break through them,” said Big Sig. “Quickly.”

  * * *

  Nettles found herself at the front of the largest mob of wags she’d ever seen. They marched down the middle of the street, a wave of outrage set to crash against the Three Cups. Red led the way, with Hope at his side, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Behind them came Palla and Big Sig. And behind them, the two mob armies of Paradise Circle and Hammer Point, side by side.

  There was some animosity between the two sides a
t first. A group of wags from each side that were a bit too drunk for their own good began trading insults, then threats. But Nettles snapped her chainblade at both sides.

  “Save the fighting for the betrayers!” Even though Nettles was the shortest by several feet, they backed away, mumbling apologies. She glared at them. “This isn’t some chum-and-larder japery for you to piss around with. This is New Laven justice. We all want the same thing today. Death to the biomancers and death to the betrayers!”

  “Let me hear that last bit loud and strong!” bellowed Filler.

  “Death to the biomancers! Death to the betrayers!” the group shouted.

  “Louder!” yelled Filler.

  “Death to the biomancers! Death to the betrayers!” This time the whole section picked it up.

  “AGAIN!” shouted Filler.

  “DEATH TO THE BIOMANCERS! DEATH TO THE BETRAYERS!” roared both armies with a sound like an avalanche.

  “You go up and walk beside them Hammer Point leaders,” Filler told Nettles. “Show ’em what it looks like to walk side by side.”

  She gave him a sharp look. If she’d been the soft sort, it might have even made her catch her breath. “Yeah, all right, Fill. You keep these wags in line for me.”

  “Aye, general!” said Filler, smiling.

  Nettles strode up to the short line and fell in next to Palla.

  “Good idea,” was all he said, and continued walking.

  Nettles had never been much interested in leadership or fame. But as she marched along with an army of true wags at her back, she had to admit that she could see the appeal.

  * * *

  Hope noticed people were starting to line the street on either side, watching as the army marched past, whispering among themselves. She knew Paradise Circle well enough by now that everyone they passed probably knew where they were going and why. Some joined in the march. Most stayed to the side, but followed—curious, concerned, or maybe just looking for a good show. By the time they reached the Three Cups, their army had grown and an even larger crowd of onlookers had gathered on the periphery.

  “This many angry people is like a keg of gunpowder,” Hope said quietly.

  “That’s the idea.” Red winked at her.

  Hope assessed their target. The Three Cups looked like any other building. Three stories, windows on each level. But they had all been boarded up, with only a few cracks open. “They’ll be shooting at us through those open slots in the windows.”

  Red nodded. “They can’t shoot this many of us. We just have to find a way to get that door open.”

  “And those first-floor windows, too,” said Big Sig. “Can’t squeeze a whole army through one door.”

  “I think we have enough wags with axes. That won’t be a problem.”

  “Except they’ll be shooting at us the whole time we’re doing it,” said Palla.

  “Why aren’t they shooting at us now?” Hope mused. “I would have thought as soon as they saw us, they’d open fire.”

  “Feels like a trap,” said Big Sig.

  “Well, we go home or we spring it,” said Palla.

  “Is there a back entrance?” asked Hope.

  “Yeah, but I’m sure it’s sealed up,” said Red. “And besides, it’s in a narrow alley. We couldn’t get many people back there.”

  “I could take a few people and slip in the back way. We could take out the window gunners and cut down on your losses as you’re breaking through.”

  “I like this idea,” said Palla. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Me, too,” said Nettles.

  Hope was surprised. She’d assumed Nettles would stay with Red and Filler. “We’ll be significantly outnumbered. The risk will be high.”

  “These full-frontal assaults don’t play to my strengths.” Nettles had a brightness in her eye that Hope hadn’t seen before. “Sneaking around and stabbing people in the back is more my quality.”

  “Is that it?” asked Red. “Just the three of you?”

  “Any more would get in my way,” said Hope.

  “Fine,” said Red. “Look…I know you want Drem. But—”

  “Now that he’s betrayed the Circle, so do you,” finished Hope. “I understand.”

  “You do?” asked Red, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “We both have a just claim. So, whoever gets to him first.” She tried out one of those grins he was always giving her. “See you inside.” As she turned and led Palla and Nettles toward the side of the building, she heard him laugh.

  * * *

  When Red let himself think too long and too deeply about the fact that hundreds of people had put their lives in his hands, his heart pounded in a really unpleasant way. So he tried his best not to think of it as he stood across the street from the Three Cups with Filler and Big Sig.

  “Is this Vinchen girl as good as she seems?” asked Big Sig.

  “Better, actually,” said Red. “Modesty is one of those Vinchen virtues.”

  “Don’t you think we might need her up front?”

  “We need her everywhere. But that’s something she can’t do. At least, I don’t think so. And if we’re having a small party infiltrate, I want her in it. She’s practically an army on her own.”

  “One thing we can do is make her job a bit easier,” said Sig. “If we make a frontal assault, it will draw everyone in there up to the front. Give her some room to work.”

  “The wags are getting impatient, too,” said Filler. “We hold them back much longer, they’re liable to charge on their own anyway.”

  “But the gunners will still be in place,” said Red. “I thought we were trying to prevent people from getting shot.”

  “No, we’re trying to reduce the people getting shot,” said Big Sig. “People will get shot, no matter what. She said herself that it was high risk. We can’t wait for a slim chance that they’ll make it through. This whole time imps are getting wind of what’s happening down here, so we’re clocking now. Keen?”

  “I don’t like it,” said Red.

  “It’s leadership,” said Big Sig. “You still want the reins, or you want to hand them off?”

  “No, I keen,” Red said quietly.

  Big Sig nodded, just a hint of approval in his hard face. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  Red turned to Filler. “Give us a boost, old pot.”

  Filler helped Red climb up onto his shoulders.

  “Does everybody know why we’re here today?” Red called to the restless mob.

  “Death to the biomancers! Death to the betrayers!” they shouted immediately.

  “We primed them a bit,” Filler admitted.

  Red looked back at the crowd. “Today the Circle and the Hammer join together against a common enemy. The biomancers have stolen our loved ones and subjected them to unspeakable horrors. It’s time to show them and that betraying cock-dribble Drem that we will not allow it anymore!”

  The mob roared, brandishing cleavers and knives, pipes and bats and bricks.

  “So what are you waiting for, a pissing invitation?” shouted Red.

  They surged forward. Red hastily dropped down from Filler’s shoulders before he was knocked down by the tide of angry wags. They swarmed against the front of the building, hacking at the door and boarded first-floor windows with whatever they had to hand.

  But even then, not a single shot was fired from inside.

  “What’s Drem waiting for?” Red asked.

  Filler shrugged and unslung his mace. “You complaining?” Then he headed toward the door to help with the dismantling.

  Red caught a flash out of the corner of his eye in one of the windows of the building on the opposite side of the street. “Wait!”

  Filler paused and looked back curiously, his mace held loose in one hand.

  “If I could just…” Red squinted, trying to look beyond the darkened windows. His vision gave a funny lurch. Then he saw that every window in the building across the street had a gun barrel in it.
/>   “GET DOWN, EVERYONE!” he screamed.

  * * *

  The alley behind the Three Cups was so narrow that Hope, Nettles, and Palla had to walk single file.

  “No wonder they weren’t worried about a serious attack from the rear,” said Nettles.

  “They did board up these windows, though,” said Palla.

  “But not the top-floor windows.” Hope squinted as she gauged the distance between the back wall of the Three Cups and the building behind it. It was even better than she’d hoped.

  “Because nobody’s going to get up there,” said Nettles. “Even if you had a grapple, there’s not enough room down here to get a decent throw.”

  “We don’t need a grapple.” Hope jumped against the building behind, then to the back wall of the Three Cups, vaulting back and forth as she worked her way up to the top window. She broke the window with the pommel of her sword and climbed into the dark room.

  She was surprised to find the room empty. It was a long space filled mostly with cots. This must be where Drem’s men slept. It really was like a standing army. But where were they? All crammed up in the front of the building?

  The cots gave her an idea. She quickly pulled off the thick blankets and tied them into a long line. She hadn’t been sure how she would get Nettles and Palla up there. She’d thought there was a good chance she would have to leave them behind, which would have been very insulting. So she was glad this solution had presented itself. She tied one end to an iron cot as an anchor, then dropped the other end through the window. She wasn’t sure the weight of the cot would be enough, so she braced her legs against the wall below the window and her back against the cot. The blanket rope went taut, and a few moments later, Nettles appeared in the window.

  “Yeah, okay, I’m impressed, angel slice,” she muttered quietly as she climbed into the room.

  The two of them braced the bed as Palla made his climb.

  “From here we work our way to the other side of the building,” said Hope. “The goal is to take out as many shooters as possible. But we need to do it silently. We make too much noise, and the whole building will be on top of us.”