Meanwhile, the Lady Ghosts had anonymously petitioned Authoritant Lockley, calling on him to take a stand against the landmasters that owned him as surely as any dustblood miner. They’d also rallied support from their wealthy fairblood friends, who traveled to the Scab to form a chain around the welcome houses and prevent brags from walking in. There were not enough of them to protect more than two or three houses a night, and they were fined steeply for their trouble—but unlike the dustbloods on strike, the law was not so quick to beat them, their shadows providing them a layer of protection. Aggie wrote that Priscilla was worried things had gotten out of control and was desperate to rein them back in, but that most of the rest of the Ladies were brimming with more excitement and anticipation than she’d ever seen in all her years of serving there.
Finally, the Scorpions and the Nine worked together to free the families living in the tenant camps, the Nine providing the food while the Scorpions provided the weapons and other supplies. The voltric weapons gave the rebels a fighting chance against the raveners, and the dustblood families themselves took up arms to overwhelm them with numbers. With Sullivan out of the way, it had been only a matter of days before most of his camps had fallen. The papers had reported the landmaster missing by now, and though no blame had been laid, the word on the street was that the Reckoners were responsible, to many dustbloods’ delight.
Aster received the updates each day with a mixture of excitement and dread. Excitement, because she would never, even just a year ago, have expected to see this: men fighting for the freedom of Good Luck Girls, fairbloods fighting for the freedom of dustbloods, people hundreds of miles away risking their lives because of her words and actions and those of her friends. Aster had long since coated her heart in armor to avoid disappointment. People could always, only, be trusted to disappoint you. But these past few days had split that armor near in two, leaving her vulnerable to tears of relief in the quiet of the night.
But of course, Aster felt dread, too, because she had seen how landmasters responded to dissent and did not want anyone else hurt or killed on her behalf.
The only choice now was to see this through before the landmasters had a chance to strike.
When Aster and her friends finally left for the Harker estate, a week after the failed capture of Leonard Sullivan, it was the largest group she’d ever overseen. With both Derrick and Eli along for the ride, they were nine strong. Attempting to cover the tracks of such a large group traveling through the woods was going to be a nightmare, Zee warned her, but they had no choice. The law was out in full force now, patrolling the Bone Road and guarding the entrance to every deadwalled town. And so they picked their way across the uneven forest floor, doubling back to confuse any pursuers, going out of their way to travel over rocky ground or thread-thin creeks, and dragging branches behind their horses to brush away their tracks.
In the end it took them three days and two nights to reach the shallow valley where the Harker estate lay, and the grueling journey drew their strained nerves near to the breaking point. A starved pair of coyotes was drawn to their cookfire, and Zee suffered a nasty bite to his forearm in the fight to drive them off. Derrick’s theomite ring slipped off Aster’s sweating hand, and they spent over an hour retracing their steps to find it in a race against the coming night. Sometimes they heard the shouts of angry confrontations between travelers and the law on the Bone Road, and though they deliberated over it every time, they never stopped to get involved. Their current mission was too important.
Derrick alone kept his spirits high, complimenting the Scab’s rugged beauty with forced cheer rather than complaining about the blistering heat or the biting flies. He seemed determined to make himself useful at every turn, to prove he was willing to suffer whatever the others were, despite his obvious and growing dread as they neared their destination. But Aster couldn’t blame him for that—she felt it, too, fear and anticipation as charged as a bolt of voltricity in her blood. With Sullivan, they’d had a whole camp full of dustbloods to back them up. With the Harkers, they’d be on their own.
“I have eyes on a patrol,” Mallow murmured. She had climbed the lower branches of a twisted evergreen, and from there peered down into the valley with a pair of binoculars. Even from the ground, Aster could see the Harkers’ mansion from here: a massive whitewashed building with three stories and two wings, sitting in the pool of shadows at the base of the valley like a lantern in the dark. Up here, though, the woods were still rosy with fading sunlight, and Aster wanted to wait until the cover of nightfall to strike.
“Well? How many do you see?” Aster asked Mal.
“I count four raveners circling the perimeter of the estate and two guarding the gate at the deadwall.”
Aster fixed an accusatory glare at Derrick. He had shorn his hair and dyed it black in preparation for tonight, and now he was busy fumbling bullets into his handgun. He seemed to feel Aster’s eyes on him, looking up sheepishly.
“What?”
“You said these bastards wouldn’t have much security at the house,” Eli rumbled. “You said they’d put all their raveners in their camps to prevent rebellion.”
“Not all. Most,” Derrick corrected. “Listen, given what happened to Sullivan, you can’t be surprised they’ve hired some backup. But it’s hardly enough to stop us.”
Raven snorted. “Us?” she echoed.
“Yes, us,” Derrick insisted, finally holstering his gun. “I told you, I’m not hanging back this time. I’ve been to this estate many times before. I can show you where the back entrance is. Just because I didn’t know about the raveners doesn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Derrick,” Aster said with an impatient sigh. “Just don’t forget your dustkerchief. We can’t have these bastards recognizing you.”
“I’ve already given up my hair! Let that be enough! You all aren’t wearing dustkerchiefs,” he protested.
“That’s because the Harkers already know we’re after them. But we still need them and the rest of the world to think you’re being held prisoner somewhere. We can’t take any chances.”
Derrick mumbled something under his breath, but obediently tied his dustkerchief around the bottom half of his face. The others were beginning to ready themselves, too, loading their weapons and grabbing supplies from the saddlebags. Mal jumped down from her lookout post and landed catlike on all fours.
“So what’s the plan to get around those raveners?” Eli pressed, crossing his arms. His own rangeman’s hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but Aster could see the tightness of his jaw well enough.
Aster ticked over the options in her mind. “We’ll need to create a distraction,” she said after a moment. “Something to draw them away into the woods. That’ll give the rest of us a chance to slip down to the house unnoticed. And since you’re the one champing at the bit, Eli, I’ll let you take the lead on that.”
“What, the distraction?”
Aster nodded, handing him the theomite ring. “I want this back, hear? And take Zee with you. The rest of us will go get the Harkers.”
Eli dipped his chin. “We better get going, then. Be dark soon.”
“Wait, why Zee?” Clementine interrupted, crossing her arms and standing in front of Aster. “You know how he feels about raveners—”
“Clem,” Zee said through his teeth.
“—and he’s still recovering from his run-in with his sister.”
“It’s fine,” Zee insisted, turning to Aster. “I know my way around the woods in the dark better than anyone else. I’ll take Eli over to the other side of the estate and start an exposed campfire. The raveners’ll see the smoke and come to check it out.”
It was clear that Clementine still didn’t like it, but she sighed and pressed her forehead to his. “Fine, just … be careful, Zee. You don’t have the voltric weapons anymore.” They had been distributed among the freed camps.
“No,” Eli said, strapping his shotgun to his back. “But he’ll have me.”
The boys saddled up on the back of Eli’s horse and took off. Aster and the rest of the group hiked down to the edge of the forest, waiting anxiously for the ravener patrols to take the bait. It was only another few moments before the sun set and the vengeants’ wails started up—distant enough, but still too close for comfort. Without the theomite ring, they only had iron to protect them, and Derrick’s hand fell to the lucky horseshoe at his belt without his even seeming to realize it.
“They’ll give this area a wide berth. They know there’s a deadwall down there,” he whispered.
“You actually believe that, or you just trying to reassure yourself?” Mal muttered.
He didn’t answer. Clementine’s eyes were closed, her lips moving silently as if in prayer, and Aster reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“He’ll be fine,” she promised.
She only hoped it wasn’t a lie.
They spotted the smoke a moment later, a thin silver ribbon unfurling from the tree line. The raveners caught wind of it instantly, raising the alarm, and the one nearest to it took off into the woods with frightening speed. The others spread out to cover the lost ground.
“Damn it,” Aster swore under her breath. She’d hoped more of them would take the bait.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Violet said. “There’s a big enough gap between them now for us to slip past, see?”
“Yeah, I guess we’ll just have to—”
Then the first gunshots rang out—the staccato pop-pop-pop of Zee’s six-shooter, and the heavy blast of Eli’s shotgun. One of the raveners down below shouted out an order to the others, and all but the two guarding the gate swarmed to join the fight.
“The dead preserve us,” Tansy murmured, and Clementine let out a soft cry.
Derrick looked at Aster desperately, his eyes so wide the whites were showing. “Shouldn’t we go help them?”
“No,” Aster said, though her gut had gone loose at the sounds of a firefight. This had been Zee’s own plan. He knew what was at stake tonight. “We have to finish this.”
She broke cover from the woods and started down the hill at a low crouch before anyone else could question her, before she could question herself. Her knife was already in her hand. They had to take out the remaining two raveners quietly. They couldn’t afford to raise another alarm.
“Mallow—” she began.
“Already on it,” Mal said. She held the tip of her own blade between her fingers.
They reached the deadwall and crept alongside the glittering stone, hidden in the shelter of its shadow. Toothy shards of colored glass had been embedded in the top to prevent intruders from climbing it. The guarded gate was the only way past. Mallow took the lead as they silently approached the raveners, who already seemed to be on high alert, their long guns unslung. She paused to take aim, set her jaw.
And sent her knife sailing towards the nearest ravener.
The blade sank into his throat without a sound. He reached for the hilt with inhuman calm, but he was losing blood too quickly to do anything more, and he dropped to the ground. His partner swore and ran over to help him. Aster sprinted out of the shadows, knife raised. She lunged, aiming for his chest—
“I don’t ripping think so,” the ravener snarled, catching her arm and pushing her back. Aster hit the ground so hard her vision doubled. She gasped as the breath was forced out of her lungs. The ravener loomed over her, greasy hair hanging past his shoulders, eyes flashing in the moonlight. He pressed the muzzle of his rifle to her chest. Her heart beat painfully against it.
“Who are you with?” he demanded, drowning her with waves of dread.
Aster swallowed, sick with fear. “I—”
Then a sudden rush of noise and confusion as her friends rushed him.
Violet and Raven grabbed him by the arms and threw him to the ground, pinning him there while he struggled. Mallow pounced on his legs. Tansy cupped her hand over his mouth to keep him from raising the alarm, and Clementine helped Aster back to her feet, clapping her on the back to help her regain her breath.
“Thank you,” Aster said shakily, reasserting her grip on her knife. She approached the ravener, wincing as he hit her with another surge of fear, pushing through the nausea of it.
“What do you want us to do with him?” Raven asked through her teeth.
“Nothing. I’ll finish it,” Aster said in a low voice. She knelt beside him, raised the knife. Hesitated.
“Aster, why don’t you let me—” Violet started.
Then Aster saw the flash of understanding in the ravener’s eyes as he recognized her at last, and she plunged the knife into his chest.
“By the Veil!” Derrick swore.
They all turned as one to face him. He was still hidden in the shadows, pale as a remnant.
Aster freed her knife with a slick squelch. “I thought you were here to help,” she growled.
“I am—I just—” He shook his head, seeming to think better of it. “I know the way from here. On me.”
Derrick pushed the iron gates open with a grunt of effort, then dashed across the darkened estate towards the Harkers’ mansion. The sounds of the firefight in the woods continued from beyond the wall, but it was masked well enough by the vengeants’ keening. The dead willing, Aster hoped, they had kept the element of surprise. Her muscles were still jellied from the fight with the ravener, her mind still blurred at its edges, but she forced herself to focus. The night was far from over yet.
“There,” Derrick whispered, pointing to a doorway hidden in the shadows. He had led them wide around to the side of the house, avoiding the light from the windows. “That’s the servants’ entrance. It leads into the kitchens. There’ll still be some staff on duty.”
“That’s fine,” Aster said. “We planned for this. Let me do the talking.”
She darted for the door at a low crouch and tested the handle. Still unlocked. She motioned silently for the others to follow her, then pushed the door open and snuck into the mansion.
For an instant, Aster was thrown back to the welcome house. Nowhere else had she seen such a lavish kitchen: enough sparkling silver cookware to pay off a dustblood’s debt, and more food in the pantry than most families saw in a year. Eli would have gone to glory at the sight, but Aster just felt sick. All this excess, while regular folks starved.
There were two dustblood women on duty, one mopping the floors, one elbows deep in dirty dishwater. It was the first woman who saw them, shock breaking across her face as she let her mop clatter to the ground. The second whirled around and let out a yelp of terror.
“Don’t scream,” Aster said quickly, holding her hands up. “Look at my face, my favor—do you know who I am?”
“I—I don’t—” the first woman stammered.
“You’re one of the runaway Good Luck Girls that’s been picking off landmasters,” the second woman said, her eyes widening. “You’re in the papers, all of you. The Reckoners.”
“That we are,” Aster said with a friendly smile. “And now we’ve come for the Harker brothers. Where can we find them?”
The women exchanged glances, some unspoken tension filling the space between them.
“They won’t be killed,” Aster added, recognizing the hesitation in their eyes all too well.
“Won’t they? Baxter McClennon was,” the first woman said.
“That … couldn’t be helped,” Aster said carefully. “But—”
The second woman shook her head. “Look, I’ve no love for the Harkers, but if something happens to them and the law thinks we had anything to do with it—”
“Yes, they had the Yanceys’ poor boy gibbeted just for praising the Reckoners’ work—”
“Hey, hey,” Aster whispered, taking a step towards them, gesturing for them to keep their voices down. “Don’t you worry about the law coming after you. We’ve already taken care of it. There’s a nearby tenant farming camp that
’s been freed by the Scorpions—they’ve seized the road that leads there, they’re expecting you. But I need you two to wake the rest of the staff and get them ready to go right now, hear? Because as soon as we’re done here, we’re burning this ripping place to the ground.”
The women exchanged another glance. Aster felt a sudden wrench of doubt in her gut. Maybe they didn’t want this. Compared to most dustbloods, they lived well—in a mansion, with clothes on their backs and food in their bellies.
But then, that was what everyone had said about living in the welcome house, too, and it had not made Aster yearn for freedom any less.
“Colin and Anthony are on the second floor, in the two master bedrooms at the end of each corridor,” the second woman said at last.
“Give them hell for us,” the first woman added.
Aster exhaled, and her grin widened. “We’ll try our best,” she said, tipping her hat in gratitude.
The women disappeared up the back stairs to wake the other dustbloods. Aster turned around to face her friends.
“All right, we don’t have a minute to spare,” she said, still thinking of Zee and Eli. “Raven, I want you to stay here and help the staff. Tansy, Mal, I want you to go find the kids and get them to safety—they’re not to be harmed, hear? Everyone else, follow me. We’re going after the brothers.”
They split up. Aster’s group went first, with Derrick at her left, Violet at her right, and Clementine covering their backs. The excess that had been on display in the kitchen was even worse upstairs, but now Aster was glad of it. The plush carpeting muffled their footsteps. The heavy furniture provided them with cover. The many windows let plenty of moonlight into the darkened rooms, giving them just enough light to see by. More than once Aster startled at a black shape in the corner of her eye only to discover it was the stuffed and mounted head of a boar or a ram or a twelve-point stag. Every room boasted trophies. These were men who killed without restraint, for no other reason than the pleasure and power of it. The sick feeling in Aster’s stomach deepened. They would not hesitate to kill her.
The Sisters of Reckoning Page 26