He sat with uncompromising stillness for several slow heartbeats. Then he ashed his cigarette onto the floor. ‘Uriel,’ he said finally.
I gave him a slow clap, though he seemed not to enjoy the attention. ‘How long before he and his boys look my way and start seeing a meal? This gives them something to think about for a while. And as far as the Gitts go – the world sees no shortage of hillbilly wyrm-junkies, so far as I know.’
‘Who’s going to win?’
I smiled something that might have been savage. ‘I will. I always win.’
‘If you wanted them to get going, why’d you set up this peace conference? Why work so hard to try and head it off?’
‘Because it makes me look reasonable. The guards say to themselves, that Warden, he’s a decent character, the sort of person you can talk to. And the other powers, they tell themselves that Warden’s a good bloke, not interested in more than he’s got, and he’s just the one fellow, and we could take it from him if we really wanted. I’m the best-liked criminal in the city, and my hands are clean as a nursemaid’s.’
‘That’s … horrible.’
I made as if to pick something out of my ear. ‘A stake in the enterprise, if I remember your words correctly. What did you think that meant? You think it’s just vialing breath, tossing out a few sticks of dreamvine?’ I knocked back the shot and poured another. ‘How do you think I hold onto what I got, me all by my lonesome? The world’s full of hard men, razor boys hopped up on breath, heretics who’d slit their mothers’ throats and walk over the corpse. You can’t never be tougher than everyone – but by the Firstborn, you can be meaner.’
‘That’s what you are, then?’
‘Damn right. Low Town is mine – bought with my blood and sin. I’ll hold on to it till I’m propping up dirt, and I’ll put any man to sleep who gets to thinking otherwise. Put him to sleep before he gets to thinking it. That’s the job – you talk fools into killing each other. They generally don’t require much persuasion.’
Wren was looking at me like he hadn’t never looked at me before, bitter and disappointed. That what I’d said wasn’t exactly true, that maybe I had better reasons for lighting fires than just to see things burn – there wasn’t any point in him knowing that. This was an object lesson – let him see it isn’t a game, let him see what he’d be in for if he kept going the way he was.
But still, it hurt to have him look at me like that.
‘Ain’t so pretty, is it boy? This is what pays for the clothes on your back, lessons with Mazzie. You want to eat the meat, you gotta skin the buck.’ I put the shot to my lips, then slammed the glass against the counter. ‘Now get the fuck out of here. You’re breathing my air.’
He left a copper on the counter. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. After that I got very drunk. It was a short walk back to my flophouse, but I barely made it.
38
‘It smells like a set-up,’ Mad Edward said, about five minutes before I killed him.
‘It’s too late to back out now – Hayyim is already in there. We don’t show he’ll figure we played him, and then it’s back to knives in the alleyways.’
It was a quiet night in early spring, the first quiet night Low Town had seen in a while. We were in a side street towards the northernmost end of the docks, surrounded by row after row of bleak warehouses, all shuttered windows and boarded up doors. I was trying to convince Eddie to walk into one of them.
He was nervous. He had reason to be. ‘Who says we aren’t still at open war? Who says he doesn’t have a handful of thugs waiting to introduce me to She Who Waits Behind All Things?’
‘I’ve been over every inch of it myself. It’s him and two of his people, and they’re not carrying, just like we agreed.’
He sniffed petulantly. ‘Still smells like a set-up.’
My feelings about Mad Edward, or Eddie as we called him – his nickname was strictly to be whispered, lest he reaffirm its origins on your person – had remained steady since I’d known him as a child. The fifteen years since he’d come to power hadn’t done much to make him any worse, but then there wasn’t much room to fall. Of course, my not liking him had nothing to do with his imminent demise – we could have nursed from the same bosom and I’d still be doing what I was doing. He was in my way, that was as far as it went.
‘None of this makes a damn bit of sense,’ he said. ‘Ten years I’ve split Low Town with Hayyim, ten years and no serious trouble. They had their ends and we had ours, and if there were any problems we settled them without going to steel.’
‘Then it should be easy to get back to the status quo.’
‘What made them start up in the first place?’
‘I wouldn’t hazard a guess,’ I said. ‘And anyway, it don’t matter – we are where we are, and where we are is the end of our fucking rope.’
I was five months out of Black House, and they’d been busy ones. The last three, anyway – I’d spent the first tumbling my way into a vat of alcohol, and the second climbing my way out of it. But you can only go at self-destruction for so long. At some point you’ve gotta open a vein or move on. Once I decided not to do the first, there was nothing for it but to go out and find myself a job. Five years in the army and five more with Black House hadn’t prepared me for anything more productive than killing people and causing trouble. Happily for me, though perhaps less so for the city and world, this was a skill set in high demand.
Eddie didn’t appreciate the suggestion that the last several weeks of slaughter had been anything less than an unbroken series of victories. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
‘Go wherever you like, just don’t expect to have anyone following you, cause they’re all fucking dead. We don’t have the muscle to keep this up any longer. We lost Amos and Niklaas when they raided our wyrm den last week. Obadiah is still filling a bed at Mercy of Lizben Hospital – whoever spiked his pixie’s breath knew what they were doing. If he ever wakes up again, it’ll be too damn late to do us much good. Of course you know what happened to Deneys …’
Eddie smashed his hand against his palm. ‘I still can’t believe that bastard sold us out!’
It had come as some surprise to Deneys as well. ‘He paid for it. Not worth putting any more thought towards.’
It hadn’t taken me long to work myself into Eddie’s good graces. I was a local boy – that didn’t mean anything to Eddie, parochial loyalty was one of the many virtues he lacked, but still it looked good to the rest of the neighborhood. More important was I’d been someone in the real world, and it made Eddie feel special to have me getting his coffee. His last lieutenant had been cut down in the early days of the conflict we were about to bring to an end, cornered in the street and sliced apart by a team of Hayyim’s heavies – a calamity, real tragic. I’d sent flowers to the funeral and taken over the responsibilities he could no longer fulfill. Once I’d gotten my in with Eddie, it was no great effort to gain the ear of his rival. Hayyim was quick to believe that Eddie was waiting to pounce, and quicker to recognize the virtue of striking first, especially with me pointing out easy targets. After that, the whole thing ran pretty predictably.
‘I’ve never left an enemy alive. Leaves a foul taste in my mouth, this negotiation business.’
‘Another month of this and you won’t have an organization. We’re bleeding, I don’t need to tell you that.’
‘They’ve got their share of corpses.’
‘Plenty of them – so what? We don’t make corpses for a living, we make money. People don’t fuck whores, or smoke wyrm or toot breath if they’re worried they’re going to get sliced up walking down the street. Our cash flow’s cut to a trickle. And how long you thing the hoax is gonna let this go on? They’ve got to at least pretend to do their job, and that’s not easy when every night brings a fresh massacre.’
‘Fuck the guard – they’ve been eating off my table since before I popped my cherry. They can keep their eyes on their feet for a couple more weeks.’
‘Ain’t just the guard.’
Something very like fear passed behind Eddie’s eyes. ‘Black House?’
‘They won’t let this go on indefinitely. I’m hearing chatter from people back at the shop. Things don’t quiet down soon, they’re going to have to go ahead and bring the silence themselves.’
The entirety of Low Town could walk into the bay with rocks in their pockets for all the Old Man cared, but Eddie didn’t know that. Nor did he know that I didn’t have any more sources in Black House than I did on the other side of the fucking planet.
I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Today isn’t tomorrow – we’re hurting right now, and this is our only out. We rest up and re-arm, keep the peace until we got enough men to break it. In six months, when Hayyim’s sitting fat and happy, we’ll take another look at the situation. For right now, we dip our heads or we lose them.’
Credit where it’s due, Eddie was a cagey son of a bitch – he wouldn’t have kept his grip so long otherwise. He could smell something was off, had a dim notion that there was another hand in the mix. But he was old, and he was scared, and between the two, he made the quite fatal mistake of thinking me his friend.
He nodded slowly. ‘You’re right.’ Decision made, he puffed his chest out and exited the alley at a good clip. At the mouth of it stood Duncan, practically the only soldier still alive, one half of the contingent of bodyguards Eddie was to take into the meeting. Duncan would do a poor job of it, but I hardly blamed him – I was the other half of Eddie’s protection, and I would do a damn sight worse.
‘You coming?’ Eddie asked, when he saw that I hadn’t followed him.
‘I’ll join you in there,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna do one last sweep.’
He nodded like he’d thought of the idea, then snapped his fingers at Duncan and headed into the meeting. I waited till they were both inside, then started off at a brisk pace.
Attached to the back of the warehouse was a small guard shack, long out of use. Inside I’d stuffed about a pound and a half of black powder, one-third of the supply I’d smuggled out of the war. It was worth its weight in ochre, and if I’d had to I could probably have figured out a cheaper way to bring the joint reign of Mad Edward and Hayyim the Half-Islander to an end.
But this way was a statement, the start of the legend that would echo out my name. The exact circumstances would remain secret, a hallowed and well-discussed bit of neighborhood lore. But the message would be clear, clear enough to make sure that future generations of Edwards – rough and wild, looking to grab their own and more – would take a gander at Low Town, shake their heads and keep walking.
I struck a match and held it to the fuse, then dipped on out. A block later an explosion left my ears ringing, but I didn’t bother to turn around and look.
39
‘It’s good to see all of you here today,’ I began. ‘It shows character, real character.’
The next morning found me in a small restaurant in the west side of Low Town, the opposite end from the docks, as far away from our disputants’ territories as you could get and still be in mine. It was owned by a man I owned. Normally it makes enough for him to pay the monthlies on a debt he’ll never escape. When it doesn’t, he does me little favors. I’d told him to unlock the joint at nine and not come back before twelve. I was hopeful he would still have an establishment to run after lunch.
The deal had been two men apiece, but Calum had the good sense to come solo. He was worth a second by his lonesome, and the folk he had backing him wouldn’t be much use over a negotiating table. Uriel had brought his brother. It would have been wiser if he had followed Calum’s lead, but he probably wasn’t as sure of himself up close as was the Tarasaighn. Besides, Qoheleth did not seem like the sort to be left out of a party.
We were sitting around a big circular table, the two groups as far apart as circumference would allow. I’d contracted security out to a crew of Islanders from the Isthmus. They fit the bill, being large, frightening, and unaffiliated with either of the two parties. There were a small handful of them outside, smoking dreamvine and making sure we weren’t disturbed. Two more stood at the door, big men with steel weighing down their winter coats. They’d searched us all thoroughly when we’d come in a few minutes earlier.
‘Obviously, you two have had your difficulties. We aren’t here to relive them. We aren’t here to make you best friends, or allies. We’re here to make sure that we all keep making money – that’s the point of this, not to figure out whose dick is bigger. Keep that end in mind, I’m sure we can reach a reasonable accommodation.’ Things were moving nicely; at this point it was all over but picking up the pieces. I was anxious to reach that stage, and having difficulty keeping my mind on the proceedings.
Events were slowed by Uriel’s strong attachment to the ring of his own voice. ‘First I’d like to take the opportunity to express my deepest appreciation to our host, whose wisdom and good humor are an … example to all of us.’
I inclined my head.
‘And, as he said, the issue at hand here is not the broken body of our compatriot, although we have not forgotten that. Nor the disrespect shown in injuring a member of our organization – the issue at hand is of course, how we can divide the territory east of the docks in such a fashion as to ensure that the aforementioned provocations are the last of their kind.’
‘Warden’s a man got words,’ Calum said. ‘You sound like you the same. Words is just loud breathing, far as I’m concerned. Glandon is ours. Was yesterday. Be tomorrow. Anyone thinks otherwise …’ he trailed off, as if he couldn’t be bothered to end the threat.
‘We’ve no interest in your ancestral domain. But Glandon’s boundaries, last I checked, did not extend to Brennock, nor Nestria, nor the entirety of the bay.’
I found my fingers dribbling a beat on the table, forced them into repose. I ought to have been at least pretending like I was interested in the proceedings, for all that I knew how things would end. What came next was still in doubt, I supposed, which of the men in front of me would be alive in a month, which of their families. The Asher knew how to brawl, no doubt about that. But Calum’s folk weren’t any less slow to draw steel, nor use it. I figured it’d play itself out into a bloody stalemate – Calum aside, the Gitts didn’t have enough on the ball to take down Uriel – but nor could I imagine the Asher and his brother leading a team into the Gitts’ territory and burning out their shacks. Of course, it wouldn’t really matter – even if Uriel ended the conflict victorious, his organization would come out battered and broken, easy prey for any of the other mobs that had been watching his rise with displeasure.
For some reason I found myself going over yesterday’s meeting with Guiscard, and his warning about the Old Man having a spy in my camp. At first I’d figured he’d meant Touissant, but looking at that now it didn’t add up. Touissant was Crowley’s creature, if the dead giant had been reporting directly to the Old Man then Crowley would have gotten called off before things had come to a head.
Back on the main stage they were hammering out the details, specific pushers to be protected, which avenues and thoroughfares were whose, the boundaries of each enterprise.
‘Your wyrm den on High Street isn’t big enough to hook in the whole neighborhood,’ Uriel was saying.
Calum spurted tobacco juice from between closed lips, then leaked a response out through the same. ‘Been doing well enough so far.’
If not Touissant, then who the fuck was in the Old Man’s pocket? I don’t know that many people – well, I know a lot of people, but don’t many of them know me. The circle of folk who had any idea what I was doing next was small enough to keep on one hand.
So I counted them out. Should have done it the day before, but I hadn’t. Adolphus, Wren, Adeline – obviously they weren’t whispering anything to Black House. Uriel broke me out of contemplation with a question I missed the specifics of.
‘It depends on how you look at it,’ I said.
Something else from Uriel.
‘I can see both sides.’
The conversation I wasn’t paying attention to was interrupted by a commotion from outside, an angry back and forth between the Islanders and a newcomer. After a moment the door opened, and a member of my security peeked in. ‘Ay, Warden.’
‘Yeah?’
‘We got a black robe out here, says he wants to talk to the ones inside.’
The tension in the room rose a notch. ‘What’s this about, Uriel?’ I asked.
Uriel looked at Qoheleth, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said.
‘That wasn’t the deal,’ Calum said, and it was hard to miss the note of menace.
‘Whatever it is, you’d best figure it out quick,’ I said. Uriel nodded, and I nodded at my security.
The door opened, and one of Uriel’s men came inside. He took a wide route around Calum, circling the table before bending down and whispering something into his boss’s ear. Uriel listened without speaking, without blinking, without breathing. Message delivered, the Asher took a few steps backwards.
Uriel didn’t say anything for a while.
Then he was up from his seat, up like a shot. The table we were sitting at was a big round oaken thing, and Uriel’s fist went through it with enough force to send splinters spraying in my direction. He must have broken half the bones in his hand, though he didn’t seem in the mood to notice it.
‘You inbred son of a bitch!’ Uriel screamed. He’d pulled his hand out from the hole he’d made, brought it instinctively down to his hip. The realization that he wasn’t carrying a weapon didn’t slow him down, if Qoheleth hadn’t wrapped him up in a bear hug I think Uriel would have climbed across the table and gone at Calum with his teeth. ‘You traitorous, backstabbing cocksucker!’ Uriel continued, bucking furiously in his brother’s arms. ‘I’m going to cut you till you beg to die! I’m going to lick your blood off of my fucking fingers! I’m going to slice your heart out and shit in the hole!’
She Who Waits (Low Town 3) Page 31