The Sin in the Steel
Page 33
Wrong like Eld. I love you.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“Buc, don’t!” Eld gasped and glanced at his shoulder. “I—”
“You think I have no feelings,” I said. “No regard for others. That I care only for power and my goals. You’re not wrong,” I admitted. But that’s not the full measure of truth either. I took a breath and that feeling suffused me so that every fiber of my being was soaked through with it. My breath caught in my throat, held in place by the lump there, and tears burnt my eyes. “I’d do anything for you, Eld.” I swallowed the lump and glared at the Ghost Captain. “I get the artifact and you cure him?”
“That’s the deal.”
“And you can cure him?”
“Aye.” He held up a finger. “If you do it before he dies. The process doesn’t take that long, but if you do it before then, I can remove the taint.” He waved me away. “So you’d best be quick about it.”
I sank down beside Eld but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. I could already feel my cheeks burning from what I’d said. Godsdamned emotion. “You’d better not die,” I said, my voice husky with unshed tears. “Or I’ll kill you.”
“Buc.” His laughter cut off as his weight shifted on his arm. “Buc, I—”
“Don’t say anything, you poor fool. Just don’t die on me. Promise?”
“Promise,” he whispered.
I stood up and squared my shoulders and the dead made a path to the cliff. “Then I’m off to meet a God.”
51
The climb up the hill set my lungs to burning so that by the time I reached the shipwreck, I gasped and wheezed. Even so, I immediately took ahold of the rope ladder that hung from the bone-white bow and began climbing. Chan Sha’s magic seemed to have worn off and while I wasn’t as weak as I’d been back on the other island, I wasn’t at full strength. My limbs felt leaden. I gritted my teeth and kept climbing. I was halfway up when I smelled smoke and remembered the Shambles engulfed in flames as it went over the side. The planks were dryer than dry—of course they would catch fire from even a brief exposure.
Acrid and cloying, the stench filled my nostrils, waking memories I’d buried long ago. Buried and sowed the ground with salt for good measure, but it hadn’t been enough. I froze, halting so quickly that the ladder swayed back and forth, first closer so that I got a proper mouthful of smoke, then farther, so I had barely enough time to force my lungs to work and suck in good air. Back and forth. Death and life. Back and forth. And in the space between …
The day my sister died.
The warehouse was falling apart around itself, like the rest of this section of the Quarto that had forgotten better times. Mold, mildew, and urine clung to the air; every breath stung. Plaster hung like rent flesh from the walls, sometimes revealing air and sometimes the wooden bones of the warehouse, and every now and again pieces fell from the ceiling, exposing the floor above. Sister jumped whenever part of the building died and when she jumped, I felt every nerve in my body glow.
I wanted to tell her to give it a rest, but I could barely breathe and walk at the same time. This morning when I woke up and tried to walk to the gutter to take a piss, I’d almost passed out, finally confessing to her that spots had filled my vision for two days now. We both knew starvation well, well enough to recognize the signs of the final stages.
One of the other children had bragged that the Krakens were going to ambush the Blackened Blades at the Tip. Street gangs fought all the time, but now there were whispers that Blood in the Water herself was leading the Krakens and that meant more than a canal war. That meant extinction for one of the gangs. And opportunity for us.
“Do you remember where they had their supplies?” Sister asked.
“I—” I stopped walking, waited a breath for the black flecks to clear from my vision, and nodded. I knew, but it was slow in coming to me, my brain rendered moribund from lack of nutrition. At length I remembered.
“Last message I carried for the Blades, they made me wait yonder,” I said, lifting a bony finger to indicate the dozen chairs arranged in a semicircle around a broken window. Half were lacking backs, and more than one was off-kilter for want of a leg. “They were behind me, but I could hear the stairs creaking as they walked, and when they came back down, they gave me bread and cheese and a bit of fish.” After I spoke, I remembered I had eaten the fish then and there and hadn’t told Sister of it. But she wouldn’t mind, not now that we were both starving to death, me faster than her. “It has to be upstairs then.”
“Upstairs?” Her brow furrowed in a way that would have been cute, save that her front teeth were overlarge for her mouth and gave all of her expressions a hint of idiocy. She wasn’t dumb, but her teeth would never let anyone think her clever. She was clever enough to find you and latch on, though, wasn’t she? Maybe that was Sister’s best talent: finding those who had skills she lacked and making friends of them. Friend-making was something I was incapable of, but with Sister it didn’t matter. She made friends enough for the both of us. Until the inland wars had finally touched Servenza, starting a few months back, and food became scarce. The friendships disappeared with the food.
“Buc?”
“What?” I asked. I looked around and saw her halfway across the warehouse, standing by the stairs.
“I asked if you were coming. Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
“I was listening for them,” I lied. Sister’s bony shoulders shook beneath the threadbare calico dress. She didn’t need to ask who “them” were. If either gang found us here after the battle, we’d be lucky if they just killed us. “I’m coming,” I said, hobbling across the bare, dust-covered floor.
My hunger left a low, constant buzzing in my head, and with the plaster falling down all around us, it was difficult to discern real from imaginary. Sister grabbed my hand when I reached her and practically dragged me up the stairs, sometimes taking the wooden planks two at a time, ignoring my squeaks of pain when my shins hit a step. Or maybe my cries were only inside my head; it was hard to feel if my lips moved or not.
The upper floor was similar to the lower, save that it was dark. Any windows were boarded over, and the ceiling was intact, fresh boards tacked up here and there where it had caved in, so that the only light came from cracks around the boarded windows. Unlike below, there were dozens more crates and less dust. Clearly the Blades trusted that any who wandered into the seemingly abandoned warehouse wouldn’t bother searching past the decay below. And on any day but today, even if someone did bother, they wouldn’t have made it this far without meeting a dozen or more toughs with cudgels, knotted ropes, and maybe a dagger or two. Today the place was as empty as a corpse, and in a few hours, if not already, most who had been here would be corpses themselves. I’d told Sister that when I convinced her to come and she’d actually managed a tear for the poor bastards, but she’d still come. Servenza might not kill softness, but it did weakness.
“There. Those sacks,” she said, and gasped. “That’s the mark for rice.” She pulled me into a lurching run that made my knees scream. But as loud as they screamed, my stomach was louder, and soon she didn’t have to pull to keep me even with her. We reached the sacks together and Sister giggled. “Rice we have to boil first, but here’s a heel of cheese,” she said, handing me a small piece of white cheese with a rind that was only just beginning to mold. “And dried salted fish,” she added, holding up a thin tin with the picture of whitefish engraved on it. “They must have robbed a noble’s store for some of this.”
“Mmphh—who cares?” I asked around a mouthful of cheese. I swallowed it only half chewed and began gnawing on the rind. When it landed in the pit of my stomach, pain radiated through me in nauseating waves that narrowed my vision to a haze of undulating black. But even so, I swallowed the rest of the rind and took the crust of bread Sister offered me. This time there was plenty of mold, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. When I laughed, Sister laughed too, spraying crumbs everywhere.
“We just came for our payment, sirrah,” Sister lied. My neck cricked when I looked at her and she reached out and squeezed my hand. She was never a good liar, but I had to admit I was impressed she found the lie so soon. “From the missives we carried. The Blades told us to come back today for the rest. If you speak to—”
“Whoever you name is already dead, girl.” The boy’s thick lips twisted in a sneer. Or maybe he meant it for a smile. “La Signora only deals in one justice: the steel kind.”
“La Signora, sirrah?”
“He means Blood in the Water,” I whispered.
“Blood in the Water,” he said, speaking on top of me. He scratched at a scar that pulled at the corner of his left eye.
I kept ahold of Sister’s hand, popped the rest of the crust of bread into my mouth, and reached for the knife I kept hidden in my dress. It was barely longer than my little finger, but it was steel. If we hadn’t found food today, Sister would have sold it for a few bites tomorrow. Now there might not be a tomorrow.
“She sent us here to secure their secret”—he said the word with another sneer—“warehouse. She said that when word reached the streets of the battle, street rats would flood this place in search of food. Vermin always do.”
“We’re not street rats, sirrah. We came for the food they owed, but none were here, so we helped ourselves.” She dropped a tin of fish and let it settle on the floor with a wobbling metallic ring. She didn’t reach for the others she’d stuffed into the pockets of her dress. “We’ll leave without taking more. It’s yours.”
“It’s the Krakens’,” he growled. “None of us were happy about missing the fight, were we, lads?” The others muttered, but none looked too upset. Not like him. “Looks like we might still have some fun ourselves. La Signora means to show the gutter trash what’s what today, and I’d bet a copper you won’t be the last rats what come searching for crumbs. We’ll take the food, of course, but better if they see what happens to rats that come poking around where they’re not wanted.”
“Sirrah?” Sister’s voice had gone several octaves higher, her tone the kind that always made me roll my eyes.
“Sirrah?” he mimicked her. “I’ll give you fecking sirrah.” He whipped a blade from his belt and pointed it at us. “Bring them to me!”
One of the lantern bearers stayed beside him; the other five advanced toward us and all, save the one holding the second lantern, pulled out cudgels and maces. One of the taller ones, thin, but fast like lightning, leapt forward when they reached us. Sister stepped in front of me. She screamed something, but her words were lost in the others’ laughter. The boy dropped his wooden cudgel and grabbed her, twisting her thin pale wrists back behind her, and Sister’s scream changed from protest to pain. She half fell and the boy fell forward with her, catching himself at the last instant and heaving her back up. She sagged and he went right back down with her.
That time I was waiting.
My blade bit into his throat. Once. Twice. Half a dozen times in quick succession, each time leaving a bloody tear in his flesh so that before he could escape my reach, his throat leaked like a crimson faucet. He made an effort to stand, but Sister grabbed his wrists and now it was her turn to twist. He tried to speak, but his words were lost in blood and he collapsed against Sister, pushing her to the floor.
For a moment nothing happened. The world slowed to a crawl around me. I’d stabbed someone before, several someones, but only to send them on their way. I’d never killed before, but I knew the blood pooling around my feet was too much for him to have lived. The rest of the toughs who’d lagged behind came up laughing, unable to see in the dim light.
“Leave us have a go, Tem!” one called. “Tem?” The boy with the lantern stepped past the rest and held the light up high, but the light didn’t quite reach us.
“You playing us on?” he asked in a higher voice. He took another step and the light touched the blood pooling around Tem and Sister. The boy’s face went slack; then his lips quivered and his chest heaved as he drew in breath to scream.
Once again, I was waiting. I leapt up, but he was shorter than I gave him credit for and my knife missed his throat, piercing him just below the jaw, so his scream came out garbled and short. My blade pulled free when I landed and he screamed louder, dropping the lantern to clutch at his mouth.
“She’s kerred Tem!”
“And you too,” I muttered, kicking the lantern. It hit him in the knees, rebounded, and broke open atop of one of the fallen sacks of rice. Oil spread across the sack and went up in bright blue flames. Shouts filled the room, but I was transfixed by the inferno I’d unleashed.
Then Sister’s screams joined the others.
The large boy was illuminated by the remaining lantern bearer. Sister was in one hand, hanging like a rag doll, while his other hand held a blade. He watched my expression and a smile spread across his face, incongruous with the lancing scar beneath his left eye that almost looked like a teardrop. “You’ve a pair on you, lass or no. But you know how this ends, don’t you?”
“With my blade in his throat!” I yelled, diving at the same time for the nearest tough. But hunger had drained me and I was too slow and the lad, smaller though he was, was still twice my size. He sidestepped easily. I slid forward, ending up in an uncomfortable crouch. “Or yours, if you don’t let her go,” I said, trying to hide my mistake.
“La Signora said to send a message.” He glanced at the growing fire that licked hungrily at the food stores and nodded. “Burning this place to the ground is a message.”
“The fire crews will be here in minutes,” the lantern bearer said in a diffident tone.
“Maybe, but I doubt they’ll try to save this heap.” The leader shrugged. “And if they do, they’ll still find a message. You want to save her?” he asked.
I nodded.
The blade moved in his hand and I screamed, throwing myself forward, but the others grabbed me before I moved more than a step. My little knife fell forgotten from my hands and while I could hear something loud roaring in my ears, all was silent within me as I watched that blade. It hesitated, then plunged into Sister’s chest.
When it came out, I heard her life come with it. Heard it above the sound of my screams. The dirt on her dress turned red with blood and he tossed her aside like so much refuse.
Into the flames.
She hit the rice sacks, then rolled off them and out the other side, dress singed, but not on fire.
“Save her then, but you’ll have to burn.”
52
I blinked and found myself staring at the side of a rotted, weathered ship, swaying slowly from side to side. Swaying because I was on a rope ladder. In a rush, it all came back to me. Gods, how many minutes wasted? I shrugged it off and began climbing again. Eld was dying, alone with that madman, who was waiting to turn him into one of his creatures. It was the same as at the warehouse all those years before. I’d tried to get through the flames, but they leapt higher every moment. The heat had actually started to blister my skin.
No matter how much I loved Sister, I couldn’t convince my weak flesh to brave the fire. Instead I’d stood and watched, so that she didn’t pass alone. It was only when my dress caught, from floating embers, that I came to myself and managed to escape as the building collapsed around me. Later, much later, I’d told myself I didn’t try to save her because she never moved—she was already dead. But that was a lie.
It would be different this time. It had
to be. I was here to save Eld, not watch him die. I reached the railing and pulled myself over before my brain could focus on what my senses were telling me: that the flames were nearby once again. My legs wobbled when I landed on the deck, more from the steep angle than anything else. The ship followed the contour of the cliff and the deck sloped away from me, disappearing for several paces and then reappearing on the other side of the rent. It was there the flames gathered, but they were surprisingly thin. Oh, they’d caught on the deck, but the Shambles hadn’t really turned into fireballs until after it plunged over the side. I’ve read that excess air will do that to a fire. Up here the flames hadn’t gone out, but they hadn’t started from much so they hadn’t grown. Yet.
“They will if you keep standing here,” I said. I’ve lived my whole life around fire: fireplaces, candles, lamps, lanterns … in a lot of ways, fire is life. But open flames make me nervous. And these flames kept pulling me in, whispering to me as if they were kin to the kind that kept me from Sister. Kept me from her until naught was left but ash. I felt something I hadn’t felt since then.
Powerless.
“Eld.” I don’t know why I spoke his name, but when I did, the tightness inside loosened. Breath was still hard to come by, but I could breathe. And I could move. I walked forward, my rush-plaited sandals sliding across the smooth, warped deck. “Now jump.” My legs were immobile. I took a deep breath, pulling in smoke and ash and terror in equal measure.
I watched the fire, focused on the flames. It wasn’t a hot fire. That would come if it managed to eat more of the deck, but now it wasn’t hot. It wasn’t a physical threat, only a mental one. Only a mental one. I closed my eyes, willed myself to not be that little girl. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough five years ago and it wasn’t enough now.