She keeps her dagger on the counter, hand resting on it while she takes small sips of her ale and waits. Earlier, she thought no one was watching, but now that her back’s to the room, the whispers have started up. The piano isn’t quite as loud as when she walked in. She wonders how much these people know about the events of late.
Warrell sets his empty mug down in a ring of foam that spilled over the top in the beginning. After inhaling deep through his nostrils, he starts to talk.
“It started a few days before”—he swallows—“before the Scythe marched into Rat Town and took Hawk. He came back after being gone for a week or two; do you remember?”
Myrrh nods. He’d been gone longer than usual that time. But it wasn’t like they were family or anything, so when either she or Hawk vanished for a while, the other usually assumed they’d found lucrative work outside the district. Or at least that’s what they told each other, though Nab had admitted to watching Hawk pace and grumble whenever she was away.
“Anyway, when he came back, he was madder than I’d ever seen him. Came stomping into this very tavern looking ready to breathe fire and burn the place down. I was honestly afraid to approach and waited till he’d doused some of that heat with a couple of ales.”
Myrrh rotates her mug. She’d never seen Hawk angry like that—he certainly hadn’t shown it when he came to their squat. It went against all his preaching about hiding emotions. But after what she’s learned in the last couple weeks, he hid a lot more than his feelings from her.
“When I finally got up the courage to sit next to him, he seemed desperate to talk to someone. Said he’d been working on something, his biggest gig ever. He hoped to make life better for you and Nab, and all the grubbers for that matter. But he’d recently found out he’d been lied to.”
Myrrh takes a deep swig of her ale, savors the bitterness on the back of her tongue before swallowing. “I know the feeling.”
Warrell raises his eyebrows at this but says nothing. “Hawk wouldn’t tell me any more. He was trying to figure out his revenge without getting you hurt it seems. He really cared about you, you know.”
“I know,” she says quietly. “I hate that he kept so much from me.”
“I doubt you could have done anything to save him, if it’s any consolation,” Warrell says.
Myrrh shrugs.
“Finally, Hawk asked me to accompany him to meet with Slivers. Said he planned to hand them the best leverage they’d ever get against the Maire.” Myrrh’s ale is disappearing fast. She knows she should keep her head, but the thought of Hawk dealing with Glint’s betrayal and never mentioning a thing to her…it eats at her. Brings back the grief of his loss all over again. Finally, she motions for the bartender who delivers a fresh mug.
“Did he tell you Glint is the Maire’s son?” she asks, voice bitter.
Warrell glances at her sideways, perhaps in an attempt to commiserate. “Not beforehand. Slivers got the story out of him. Noble—he’s the leader these days—”
“I know who Noble is.”
“Sorry, Myrrh. You’ve been gone. Hard to remember what you were aware of.”
She shakes her head. “Sorry for snapping. Fresh wounds, you know?”
He nods. “Hawk kept as much information as he could to himself, but Noble wouldn’t commit to a deal without knowing what he was getting his syndicate into. So Hawk eventually coughed up the truth.”
“I don’t get why Slivers betrayed him. The opportunity to get their hands on the Maire’s son seems priceless. What did Hawk want out of the deal?”
Behind them, a drunken argument quickly escalates to shouting, and Myrrh hears the smack of a fist contacting flesh. She can’t bring herself to care right now. Just rotates her mug in her hands.
Warrell summons another drink and sucks off the foam. “That’s the thing. All Hawk wanted was revenge. Didn’t even ask for a finder’s fee. Slivers swore up and down they had nothing to do with Hawk being taken. Truth is, there was almost a war down here over it. Grubbers versus the syndicate, and you know we wouldn’t have won. They’ve got the numbers and the resources. Before it came to that though, Slivers discovered a snitch in their midst. Worked directly for the Maire.”
Myrrh lets out a low whistle. “Ugly thing to uncover.”
Warrell nods. “She’s dead now.”
“So the snitch told the Maire that someone was trying to sell out his son.”
“Or they went straight to the Scythe. I suppose it doesn’t matter how word got to her though.”
Myrrh taps her heels against the barstool. Talk of the Scythe reminds her of Glint’s claim that the woman has some bond oath to the family, enforced by old crag magic. She shakes her head. How did he do it? How did he lie so easily, pretending that all this information he had on the Maire came secondhand?
“Either way, as soon as the Scythe found out, she came for Hawk. Eliminated the threat to the Maire.” And to his son, who she is probably also bound to defend.
Warrell nods. “The Scythe took him away just a couple days after we met with Noble.”
Poor Hawk. Myrrh swallows, hard. At that moment, the hatred she feels toward Glint is as strong as any emotion she’s experienced. Death isn’t good enough for him.
“Which brings us to why I betrayed you,” Warrell says. He waits until she meets his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Myrrh. It may not have been the best plan, but I thought it was our best chance to get revenge. I had to think fast when Glint’s men approached me…maybe they really did think I sold Hawk out. I don’t know. But I figured…I figured Glint wouldn’t hurt you, not with your looks and skills, and if you truly believed I’d given you up, you’d”—Warrell’s voice is thick with regret—“I figured Glint would find you intriguing enough that he’d trust you. I planned to make contact and get you out…”
“But?”
“I was expecting to deal with security hired by a high-society fop playing at banditry. Instead, I quickly discovered I’d mistakenly given you to a band of expert criminals. Your trail went cold within a few blocks of where they nabbed you. I’m so sorry.”
She runs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, well, it’s done. So, I see now why Slivers came after Glint. They’re still planning to use him against his father. What about Nab? They took him and then decided to set him free?”
“Actually, they snatched the two boys out of respect for Hawk. Figured they’d be better off freed from Glint’s organization.”
“How did they find us—him? Glint’s been secretive. Not trying to occupy turf like a regular syndicate.”
“As it happens, my plan worked out. Just not in the way I imagined. After I lost you, I went to Slivers to ask for help. Or at least that they keep an eye out for you. Figured they’d be happy to assist if it might lead to Glint. One of their urchins saw you pass through Rat Town a few mornings ago.”
Myrrh snorts. Ironic to think how safe she felt when coming through the district. She thought she’d passed through completely unnoticed.
“The kid followed you back, figured out where Glint was keeping you…after that, Slivers planned their operation and moved in hard.”
“Do they still have him?”
Warrell nods. “They got in touch earlier this evening. Thought I’d want to know. Again, out of respect for Hawk.”
“I want to see him.”
“If they allow you access, you’ll have to leave your weapons at the door. Don’t get your hopes up about taking revenge.”
“No, they caught him fair and square. Their score, their rules. I just want a chance to talk to him before they hand him over to his father…or whatever they plan to do. He needs to know that I figured him out. That he’s nothing but filth to me now.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
MYRRH STEPS INTO the room where Glint’s being held. She’s been stripped to her leathers and searched for weapons in ways that are decidedly inappropriate. None of that matters right now. Only the tr
aitorous scum, tied to a chair and staring at her through eyelids swollen from a beating, is worth her attention.
He sucks a split lip when their eyes meet.
“So,” he says. “You know.”
“Which part, Glint? That you are the Maire’s sixing son? Or that you’re responsible for Hawk’s death, and all this talk about revenge is just a big sixing lie? Do I know that the whole reason you’ve built up your gang is to protect your precious father? Yes, actually. I do know. I’ve recently discovered all those things and more.” She shakes her head, voice trembling so much it’s hard to speak. “I can’t believe I trusted you. It makes me sick.”
He looks down, struggling feebly against his bonds. “Myrrh…”
“Myrrh what? Are you still trying to find a new way to deceive me? You disgust me. I hope they decide you aren’t worth trading to your father, because I know how mercy works with the Slivers. And I know that’s my best hope for seeing you suffer for what you did.”
She’s pacing now, stalking back and forth across the small room heedless of the Slivers guard still standing in the doorway.
He turns his head to follow her. “Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you? Every time we joked about Rella and Merchant Giller, do you have any idea how it tore me up inside?”
“What a load of sixing pox!” she shouts. “I can’t believe I…” She shakes her head. The attraction she felt for him is too disgusting to think about.
“I told Hawk the truth.” He sits up straight, though she can see it’s a struggle. “All along, I hated that he didn’t know. Even though none of our early plans involved my father. Everything I told you about those days was true. We planned to build a…” His laugh is more of a sob. “I’ll even call it a syndicate, seeing as this is likely the last chance I’ll have to talk to you. Hawk and I wanted to do things a better way so that people like us—”
“Us?” Her voice is too shrill. Myrrh grits her teeth and forces her emotions back down. She can’t let this man get to her that way.
“You’re right. Not us. People like you and Hawk…all along, I was only pretending. But I did dream of creating an organization where we did better for people than my father does for the city. Criminal or not, I wanted lowborn citizens of Ostgard to have the chance to dream. But I was afraid that if Hawk knew the truth about my birth, he wouldn’t want to work with me.”
“So I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No, Myrrh. All I want is for you to know the truth before you condemn me. When I told Hawk, he disappeared. I guess my fears were justified. He couldn’t bring himself to associate with the likes of me. I don’t know what he did, but it must have been rash, because soon after, the Scythe came for him.” He swallows. “I hope that sheds a little light on why I was afraid to let you in.”
Myrrh can’t believe he’s still trying to manipulate her. She swallows back bile.
“Does it make you feel better to craft these lies? Do you come up with these explanations because a tiny part of you regrets what you’ve done?” She shakes her head. “I feel sorry for everyone who’s dedicated the past months to you. I suppose I’ll have to tell them before I leave town, because they’re still sitting around Lower Fringe plotting your rescue.”
“Hawk is alive.” His words are so low she scarcely hears them. Stiffening, she glances at the door, but the Slivers guard has his head in the hallway listening to some shout elsewhere in the den.
A tiny, desperate part of her wants to believe him. Her eyes burn as tears threaten, and she blinks them fiercely away. How could he?
“It’s true that I lied to you,” Glint says in the same barely audible tone. “I will regret that for the rest of my life, however short that may be. The Maire is my father. But there’s more to the story. If you won’t listen for my sake, will you take the chance for Hawk? You can still walk out when I’m done talking. Slivers will still try to ransom me to my father, who will simply laugh and be glad I’m no longer around to embarrass him. Especially now that I failed in what he asked of me.”
The words from the note spring to her mind. Something about a bargain between Glint and his father. She turns to him, fists clenched, eyes narrowed. For Hawk, she grits her teeth and nods. “Talk.”
“I’ve been estranged from my father since the day of my mother’s death,” he says. “I stole her jewelry box and the contents of my father’s safe and asked Bernard to help me secure passage down the Ost to the Port Cities. It was my father’s scheming and plotting that got my beloved mother killed. All I had left of her was a locket with her image. And memories. Especially memories of her brutal death.”
A tear falls from his swollen eye. Myrrh looks away so that his display of emotion won’t soften her resolve.
“Bernard wouldn’t let me go alone, the old fool. No one has told me…” He looks at her with such naked hope that she almost believes his concern. “Did he survive? Some of them came in through the kitchen when they took me.”
“I don’t know if you deserve that information,” she says, her voice flat.
He looks away. “Maybe not. Maybe I will just have to hope. In any case, in the years after, I slowly worked my way up as a trader in the Port Cities. Until things changed there. I wasn’t lying when I talked about how the rulers scrubbed the streets clean with the blood of the lower class. I realized then that it wasn’t going to be enough for me to live outside my father’s household. I needed to make a change, starting in the city where my mother died. So I came back about two years ago and started laying plans. That’s when I met Hawk. And I’m telling the truth when I say that at first, I thought it shouldn’t matter where I came from. It was only later when Hawk and I became close…I realized that I’d started to think of him as the father I never had. He deserved the truth.” He shrugs. “You see how that turned out.”
“It’s a convincing tale,” she says. “Much like everything else you told me.”
“When Hawk left the safe house and didn’t return, I hoped he just needed time to come to terms with working with someone like me. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Myrrh swallows. She doesn’t want to meet his eyes right now. Doesn’t want to let hope for Hawk grow.
Glint winces as he struggles against the cord binding his wrists. “I can’t change that I deceived you, but thank you for giving me this chance to put it right. And I hope”—he leans and checks the guard at the door. The man is still distracted—“I hope you will consider what I’m going to tell you next,” he says in a low, low voice. “I have no proof other than my word, but please believe me when I say I made a deal with my father. When I learned Hawk had been captured and by whom, I sent word asking for an audience. It was the first time I’d seen my father in nine years.”
Myrrh’s pace slows, because despite her best intents, she’s starting to believe there’s some truth in his words.
“My father knows that Emmerst and many in the council are plotting against him. That’s another lie I told you. Another I’ll never forgive myself for. Father also realized that I had a good chance of stopping the council from unseating him once I explained my ideas. He didn’t care about the methods, only the results. The threat to his power must be removed. As a gesture of goodwill, he spared Hawk’s life. Locked him in prison. But if Slivers hands me over, or worse, simply kills me, he’ll do as he’s threatened from the beginning. Hawk will die out of my father’s spite.”
At once, she believes him. She rushes the chair and gets in his face. “You had no right to keep that from me. If I’d known he was alive—”
“You would have what? Broken into my father’s secret prison single-handedly? I don’t even know where the sixing place is.” Some of the fire returns to his voice as he stares back at her. “I never meant to keep the truth from you for so long. At first, I wasn’t sure I could trust you with information about Hawk. Then I worried that if I told you and you ran off and got yourself killed, I’d have to carry that gui
lt for the rest of my life. And then, once I realized how selfish I was being, I was too afraid to admit the truth. Because we’d already gotten close, and I couldn’t forget what had happened when I finally confessed to Hawk.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness because I don’t believe I deserve it. But I am asking you to believe me. At this point, maybe I deserve whatever Slivers does with me. But Hawk is innocent.” He lowers his voice even more. “Help me get free, and we’ll find a way to free Hawk. If you can’t stomach keeping my bargain with my father, we can find another way.”
He glances up over her shoulder and blinks swollen eyelids quickly. A sign for her to back away. She turns and sees the guard approaching.
“Stay away from the prisoner,” he growls, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out.
Myrrh looks over her shoulder at the battered man sitting alone in the bare room. Get him free? How in the sixing pox is she supposed to do that?
Chapter Twenty-Five
MYRRH CROUCHES IN the doorway of her old squat, the ramshackle stilt house in the Spills. On the muddy pathways below, late-working men and women return to their families. Heads down, navigating by the wan light of a half moon.
Hawk’s bedroll is still here. She never had to decide to trade it to a rag seller for food or spare change. Hers and Nab’s too, the blankets heaped against the walls. It’s like their old grubber lives were just suspended all this time. Or maybe that their ghosts remained, going through the motions. Scrounging enough contracts to eat, always wondering if they should just give up and trade their freedom for the security of a syndicate membership.
Hawk is alive. If Glint’s word isn’t enough, she has proof in the crumpled letter he received from his father. Anger floods her veins when she thinks of how he kept it from her. But there’s relief too. Hawk still has a chance.
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