Making Peace, page 10
“It never has, not for me. That’s why I try to avoid killing whenever possible.” She swirled her glass of red wine, looking into it. “Taking life should never be easy, Belkan.”
“And when it becomes easy, scribbler,” Ugly cut in unexpectedly, “you’re a monster. And you’re the one who needs to be put down. If anyone can do it.”
The table went quiet. I saw Shield shoot Ugly a strange look. He was looking down into his mug and didn’t see it. Captain chose this moment to lean forward, wiping his mustache and beard with a thick charcoal gray cloth. As with everything about him, it was crisp and neat.
“There are several topics we need to address here,” he said. “First off, tell me again about the battle in the street.” Ugly recounted the events, ticking off points of interest on his fingers. It was easier for me to listen to a retelling now. Still, I was grateful when Shield reached over inconspicuously and squeezed my hand with a sympathetic smile.
“In short,” Ugly continued, “The attackers in plainclothes got bold. I can’t say if that’s because they don’t care about the laws against House warfare, they’re not subtle enough to pull it off, or if they were wanting to send an intentional message.” He pulled a cloth patch from his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of him. “I found this on several of the attackers, sewed into the outside shoulder.” It was a patch in gold-colored thread with the number 100 over top of the letters HH clearly displayed.
Captain rested his elbows on the table and crossed his hands in front of his mouth. He said nothing.
Tavel spoke up. “That’s the same patch as before, right?” Captain and Ugly both nodded. “So we’ve got a mercenary band, one big one. They’re hitting Second House targets all over the city. No one big yet, and no one from the core family. Is it random?”
“I doubt it,” Sen said. He rested his own elbows on the table, crumpling up a fancy cloth which looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in some time.
“Why not?” Captain asked softly from the head of the table.
Sen looked at him, then around the table. “Well, we got two killings in the First House. One performed by what sounds like a female killer, with some respect for the target because they covered her nakedness. The second was committed with clear disdain for the target, and by a male assassin. A skilled assassin, at that. He doesn’t match the description of any assassin on retention by any of the Houses in the city.” He drew in a breath. “It looks clear to me there’s a House war brewing. I don’t know who the players are yet, but I can’t see any other conclusion.”
Captain looked around the table, his eyebrows raised. One by one, each member at the table excepting myself nodded their head. Captain drew a deep breath and sat back in his chair.
“Well then, fellows. I needed to hear each one of you say it first. I agree. It’s a House war. We need to prepare for it. I’ll notify the other cells in case we need backup. Of course, pertaining to the top three Houses, this is our jurisdiction.”
Captain turned to look at me. “Writer, we need to get you trained to defend yourself. I’m not going to lose a protected civilian out of his own sheer stubbornness.”
Sen raised his hand, a nasty grin on his face. “I’ll do it. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
I groaned. Vapor giggled, and Captain smiled. “Meeting adjourned,” he said, rising from his chair.
CHAPTER 15
WITH A GRUNT, I caught my opponent’s overhead swing on the blade of my sword, ceramic blade held horizontal and pointed outward in front of my face. Ox position, I remembered. Sivernite blades crashed together again and the other sword slid along mine, catching against the guard. I threw my blade to the left, shaking the lock, and stepped forward into a thrust. But my opponent had already sidestepped to my left and slashed at my kidney.
I hurled myself away with barely enough time and felt the blade brush against my shirt. I brought the hilt of my sword tightly against my side, tip pointed up and toward the enemy. Plow position, meant for pushing into a thrust, but also excellent for guard.
As I had expected, my opponent pushed the attack, coming down in another overhead strike. This one I brushed aside and stepped in close. Real close. I could smell the sweat on the bastard. I looked into his eyes from inches away, prepared to bring my sword in for a stroke across his chest.
Halfway through my cut, he grinned. I panicked and tried to back away, but he headbutted me full in the face. Pain blossomed through my head and the world turned red as blood splattered across everything, but I maintained awareness enough to hurl myself backwards. I hit the ground hard, smacking my shoulder, but I brought my guard up. It was a desperate position, but it was the only thing I could do.
But the guard was unnecessary. My opponent was laughing so hard he had doubled over. He damn near dropped his sword.
We were in the training yard out behind the Keeper headquarters, a walled-in garden of sorts. The yard had plenty of fruit trees, and a modest fountain over a fish pond. Benches littered the area. We stood in a massive dirt patch, ringed with varicolored stones the size of a man’s fist. I’d gotten to know this training ring very well over the last few weeks.
I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I tensed, but it was only Shield, her mouth crooked in a fretful manner. Warm sunlight gleamed in her chestnut hair and gave her pale skin a healthy glow. She began to sing under her breath. In a brief moment, the pain both in my face and inside my head eased. I grabbed my nose, and it felt like the right shape.
Sen was still laughing, holding himself up with his sword. A wide grin split his olive-skinned face, and droplets of sweat dripped off the ends of his shaggy black hair. Shield finished her ministrations and leaned back on her haunches, which gave me the room I needed to pick up a rock and chuck it at Sen. He ducked his head, caught it on his shoulder, and came up still grinning.
Shield frowned at him, and her voice sounded annoyed for the first time I could remember. “I don’t want to have to keep patching him up like this. Play nice.”
Sen smirked, laying his longsword to rest along his shoulder. “Tell him that, not me. Every bump is a lesson he won’t forget. He needs to study harder.”
“So what was this time supposed to teach me?” I asked. His attitude was starting to piss me off. We’d been at it all morning, and he seemed to have something more to prove with each match. I checked the condition of my empty hands. Most of the blisters had popped and formed hard callouses; weeks of training forging my beautiful hands into warrior paws. I wasn’t sure I liked the change, and my writing tools definitely fit differently in my new hands.
Sen coughed and stood up straight. “The weapon isn’t the thing to pay attention to. It’s the person. The weapon is just an extension, like a stinger on a knife-lizard. But the whole lizard is your enemy. Let down your guard, and you get the fangs instead.”
I leaned back on my elbows, letting my head fall all the way back. The sky above was murky, as usual. The clouds were close. They were always close in Tiers. I longed for the open skies of Iris City back on Garden. In fact, I longed for a lot of the freedom I had on Garden. There I didn’t need to learn to use a sword. Hell, I barely had to cut my own meat.
Shield nudged me back to awareness. She was looking down at me, with her legs tucked under her to the side. Another one of those curious behaviors so reminiscent of the ladies back home. She smiled. Not her usual radiant smile, or even a cheerful smile. It was just a simple kindness, and a bit of understanding. It was enough to help cheer me up again. I pushed myself to my feet and raised my sword.
Tavel, watching from the sidelines, waved me down. His long, curly blond hair swayed as he walked over and held out his hand for the training sword. I passed it over and stepped back, turning to catch a glimpse of Sen’s reaction. Sen wasn’t too thrilled, judging by the speed with which his mouth had swallowed the grin he’d been wearing all morning.
Tavel saluted with his blade and assumed a forward combat stance using plow position, hilt tucked in at his side. Sen looked like he was considering how best to stop a charging bull. Tavel barely let him settle into a position mirroring his own before he lunged forward. Tavel closed the distance with frightening speed. He didn’t fight for the space, he simply took it. The two closed quickly. Tavel twirled the point of his sword against the inside of Sen’s, brushing it aside, and stepped in for the thrust. Sen saved himself only by abandoning all pretense of calm and throwing himself to the side.
Tavel didn’t waste the chance to keep Sen off guard. Tavel moved into an overhead strike and chopped downward. He let it slide off Sen’s frantically raised guard, then fell back into the plow position and lunched into another thrust. Sen dodged backward again and returned a slash, which Tavel leaned into, ducking his head. He slid beneath it and came across with a slash to Sen’s stomach, sliding onto one knee beside him. Both froze, Sen panting heavily, his face drained of all color. In a matter of eight seconds, Tavel had scored a fatal blow.
Without a word, Tavel stood and bowed to Sen. He walked over and handed back my sword, hilt first. Tavel smiled at me, and I had opened my mouth to thank him when I was interrupted.
“Done fast, and done right.” Ugly spoke from the doorway to the yard coming from the house. None of us had heard him approach. “If you’re going to end a fight, you end it as quickly as possible, and you make it final.”
From the corner of my eye I caught Shield frowning, but when I looked she turned her head down and away, pretending to fiddle with one of the clasps on the side of her breastplate. I considered, then turned back to Ugly. “Does it always have to be final? Can’t I end it in a non-fatal way?”
He was quiet for a time. More than a time. The silence started to drag on. Sen scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. Shield looked like she was about ready to craft an entirely new breastplate on the spot if it meant avoiding raising her head. I noticed Tavel paying rapt attention to Ugly.
Finally, Ugly broke the silence. “Yes. Always final. If you leave someone alive, that’s an enemy behind you. And it isn’t your back they’ll stab. It’s the people you’re protecting. It’s whatever you hold important. Leave enough enemies, and you’re dooming the people around you.” Ugly gave Shield a stern look she pretended not to see, then he turned and left.
Everyone was quiet. Shield sighed and dusted off her hands. Then she raised her head and smiled at me, her cheerful look back in place. “Let’s return to it, then.” The spell was broken, and everyone went back to what we’d been doing.
After getting walloped, Sen wouldn’t meet my eyes, and the rest of the day went a lot easier.
CHAPTER 16
UGLY SETTLED INTO a chair across from me, giving me the same look a man might direct toward a tick he finds crawling up his leg. The mess hall was mostly empty around us, with only Shield and Vapor seated at a table at the far end. They were enjoying some sort of dessert dish, talking with their heads close together. That left Ugly and I with plenty of privacy in our own corner. It was hard to tell which of us was less thrilled with this arrangement. His eyes glared at me from their nest of scars.
I cleared my throat. Be positive, Belkan, always start positive. “Thanks for coming down here. I know you’ve got other things to do.” He went on looking at me without responding, so I continued. “I need interviews with everyone so I can make sure my book is solid and has all the facts.” Still no response. “I’d like to ask you some questions and get your perspective.”
His mouth twitched. “Captain said I’m to comply, and I will. But,” he leveled a thick finger at me, “I’m not here for you to unpack and fawn over, like a bride’s marriage trunk.” He lowered his finger. “I don’t want any part of this, and I want that logged.”
I nodded my understanding. “Right, absolutely noted. I just need some information to get the right picture.”
He considered me dispassionately for a few moments. “Go ahead.”
“Right, uhh, let me just look at my notes here.” I shuffled to a list of questions I’d prepared. “You are the Second of this cell, correct?”
He nodded.
“What exactly does your title mean?”
“It means I’m second in command. Anything happens to the captain, I become acting captain. If he’s not present during a crisis, I’m also acting captain. I represent him in meetings he cannot attend.”
I nodded. “Thanks. Okay. And I’ve heard people call you Second of the First. What does that mean, exactly?”
“The First cell. We’re at the very top, responsible for the top four Houses. That’s our entire jurisdiction. We also take priority over all other Keeper claims, in the event of a dispute over jurisdiction or resources.”
“Very good.” I took a breath. He was still glaring at me. “And, how do you all coordinate, exactly? The cells, I mean?”
“For a writer, you sure do overuse the word ‘exactly,’” he said, smirking. “We have a meeting periodically. It’s arranged by the captain with notes on time and location included and dispersed at the last moment to prevent any issues.”
“What issues, exa- er, what issues do you mean?”
He shifted in his seat and gave up glaring at me to look more thoughtful and calculating. I’d finally got him warmed to the topic. “We’re paid for by taxes on each House,” Ugly said. “We also police each House. They don’t like that, despite all we do to keep their businesses running smoothly throughout their constant jockeying. That means there’s a chance for corruption even among cells. If one House decided to pay one cell for the time and location where all our leaders would be gathered, that cell could make a fortune like you wouldn’t believe. So we remove the temptation and the ability by keeping the responsibility solely with the Captain of the First.”
“That sounds… stressful. You want to protect the people who want you dead.”
“That’s life.”
I looked back down at my list of questions. “Your accent indicates you’re from the planet Iron Sky. I’d like to ask you about that next.” I looked back up and froze. His expression was completely closed, his eyes the flat, dead orbs of the deep-sea predators I’d seen sketched in biology books.
Don’t let your interview subject intimidate you, Bel. Just tread carefully. Right. Okay.
I cleared my throat. “What brings you here to Sivern?”
He measured me with those terrible eyes of his. I wanted to look away, but just like being in the presence of a predator I was afraid of being left vulnerable, what he might do.
“What… what brings you here, Ugly?”
At length, he answered, his already deep voice very low. “There was work to be done here.”
Always listen to what the subject isn’t saying. “Was there no work to be done back home? No family? Iron Sky folks usually get married pretty young, from what I hear.”
He considered me for another length of time. Slowly, the light returned to his eyes, and he shifted in his seat. “Not any work I was willing to do.”
I nodded, looking back down at my papers but finding nothing to help me go forward. “You, um, Iron Sky has a big ongoing war, if I remember right. Civil war, half the planet against the other half.” I looked him over. “You’d be around the right age to have fought before you came here.”
“Imagine that.”
“Did you fight in the civil war?”
“Everyone fights in it, scribbler. That’s what happens with a civil war.”
“Okay,” I said. I was getting tired of his intimidation act and it made me forget my fear. “You’re supposed to be working with me. I’m trying to make sure everything gets written down.”
He leaned toward me, his expression hard. “Some things aren’t supposed to be written down. Some things are just for the survivors to know, not soft little runts who never let go of their mama’s skirts. Some things aren’t even supposed to be said out loud. You ever learn that in your little writing school?”
“Look, I’m here to tell this story. I don’t care how you feel about it; you’ve been ordered to assist me. Let me guess, you washed out of the military and your underage little wife couldn’t stand—“
Pain exploded through the right side of my face, and I found myself lying on the floor. It took a moment to register he had hit me, throwing me out of my chair. I looked up in time to see him flip the table with a loud roar. He turned and stalked out of the room, kicking a wooden chair out of his way as he went.
I felt someone grip me under the arm, and it gave me a start. I relaxed when I saw it was Shield trying to help me up off the floor. I let her assist me and she sat me back in my chair, assessing my face for damage.
“Minor cut on the cheekbone,” she said, “but nothing broken.”
“He hit me. The bastard hit me.” I tried to feel my face where it hurt, but she brushed my fingers away. “That man is a savage,” I growled. “Captain shouldn’t let him roam around. He needs to be in a damn cage.”
She half-smiled, still checking the side of my face. She seemed satisfied with it, and gripped my chin in her hand, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “You had it coming, you know.”
I felt my own eyes widen in surprise. She released my chin and turned to walk back to her table, where Vapor was fidgeting and looking anxiously between me and the door Ugly had just stomped through.
I called after Shield, “No civilized man hits another man over words.”
She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Civilized men get away with an awful lot of unkindness by hiding behind social protections. But this isn’t Garden, Belkan, and you’re right, he’s not a civilized man. He’s going to treat you according to your actions and your intentions, not your words. And I suggest you not insult his family again. That, most of all.” She walked back to her table and sat down again with Vapor, her back to me.
I collected up my papers and stomped to my room. I tossed the papers on my desk and felt my cheek, where the bone still throbbed. My head hurt like hell, but I had to admit Ugly could have done a lot worse if he’d meant to. I flopped on my bed and rolled over onto my back, studying the wood patterns in the ceiling and considering Shield’s words.
