Making Peace, page 17
Sen and I shared another look. Sen’s brow was furrowed and he looked concerned.
The barmaid walked up with her hand already out, her mouth in a firm line, and I handed over a silver coin. She set down another mug for Tavel and swayed her way back to the bar. None of us watched her go.
Tavel spoke, quietly at first but with rising volume. His face was hidden behind his hair with only his mouth and chin visible. “This is a sick city, Belkan. People feed on others, and no one stops it.”
A man in a dusty purple coat at the next table who hadn’t yet turned back to his own business gave a rousing, “Hear, hear!” I shot him a nasty you’re-not-helping look, and he turned back to his meal.
Tavel smirked and went on. “Every bastard in this disgusting tavern wishes I’d killed one of you, just to help them forget their own lives for a moment. There’s been a maiden working all night in the corner behind you, Bel. She can’t be more than twelve years old, and no one cares.” His lips twisted in disgust. “An assassin pisses on his victim and almost wipes out half our crew, and he walks away with more reward than any of us will ever hold. Someone is cutting open pregnant ladies, and we can’t stop them.” He snarled. “Because we’re ‘not here for justice.’” The broken mug handle snapped in half in his fist.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, but Sen surprised me. I think he surprised all three of us. “Justice isn’t always what you think it will be, Tavel. We see how it is at the moment, and we like to decide what’s right based on what’s directly in front of us. But there’s a whole story, and you’re walking in halfway through the play.” He leaned forward, gesturing over my shoulder. “That maiden over there, her name is Emmeline. Folks call her Emmy. She was raised to do exactly what she’s doing now. She turned down an invitation to leave that life and come work for Cora as a cleaning girl. But maybe she won’t always turn it down. People can make new decisions every day.” He settled back into his chair with a sigh. “By all means, fight the injustices. I hate them as much as you do. My stomach churns when I think of the hundreds of girls like Emmy out there on the streets right now, doing the only thing they know to survive. Sometimes I hate this city and our leaders who decide these depravities should be encouraged. If you feel impotent, then pay attention to the smaller things. Find little ways to help, to encourage and protect the people who need it. Even if small kindnesses are not large enough to satisfy you, they may be the only thing that can actually make a difference.”
Tavel had raised his face to look at Sen, his hair parting to reveal his face, and I was surprised to see tears in Tavel’s eyes. His expression was wide open, vulnerable, a child’s expression which broke my heart. He searched Sen’s eyes, then lowered his face again to stare into his mug.
“How do you know Emmy turned down a job offer?” I asked Sen. He looked away and didn’t answer.
After more rounds than I can recall, we stumbled back to headquarters. Only one group of suspicious looking men came close enough to mug us, and they fled when Tavel drew his sword and began spouting oaths about smiting evildoers.
CHAPTER 24
AT FIRST, THE hammering sounded like it was coming from inside my own head.
The bell towers over the city had tolled two in the morning by the time Sen, Tavel, and I finally made it home. I had yanked off my shirt and my sword belt and collapsed into bed. Sleep had taken me instantly and I’d had no dreams. I couldn’t guess what time it was now, but it did not feel like an entire night had passed. I cracked an eye and checked for daylight, but there was none through my window.
The hammering came again, clearly booming from my door. I resolved to ignore it.
The screams which came next I couldn’t ignore. “They’re breaking through!” Captain bellowed. “Get back!” A smash, splintering wood, glass shattering.
I was out of bed in seconds, fingers already snagging the sword belt hanging from my bedpost. Ugly bashed the door off its hinges as I was buckling the belt. He saw I was up and turned toward the next door, Sen’s room.
The screaming, the smashing, and Ugly not wasting breath on orders all sobered me up in record time. Boots, belt, pants, sword: good enough. I gave up on finding my shirt, slung the strap of my leather writing bag with all my papers across my chest, and followed Ugly out into the hallway. My sword hissed as I yanked it free of its sheath.
Shield stood fully armed and armored at the head of the stairs leading down from our third floor bedrooms. The healers had done their work, though she still had bandages wrapped around the top of her head and covering one eye.
Sen emerged fully dressed from his room as groggy as I had been, but he came to life when he saw Ugly’s face. Two of the staff, a young man and a young woman, were carrying Vapor upright by her shoulders. Her feet dragged, and her head lolled with each step.
The sounds of fighting echoed up through the stairwell. It had to be Tavel or Captain, maybe both. Pungent smoke filled the air. A growing heat radiated from above us. I glanced out the hallway windows and saw light dancing against the walls of other buildings.
Ugly pointed at himself and Sen. “Second floor, clear it. Then move to the first floor.” He pointed at Shield and me. “Rearguard. Evacuate the staff. You don’t leave before they do.” With that, he drew his two blades from his chest harness and stormed past Shield down the staircase. Sen followed.
I looked to Shield for orders. She opened her mouth to speak, but we both had to duck when all of the windows along the hallway exploded inward. Arrows rained through the gaps. The two staff members holding Vapor screamed and almost dropped her in their panicked attempt to take cover.
I grabbed the young woman’s arm and shouted to be heard over the noise. “Stay low!” I hunched down and moved to join Shield. She met us halfway and covered the kids with her kite shield. We made it to the stairwell, and I saw smoke curling up toward us.
Ugly and Sen rushed into the stairwell from the second floor, just below us. Ugly looked up at Shield. “Floor is clear. Grab the staff and get them out.”
Shield nodded in response. She and I headed to the second floor while the kids holding Vapor stayed huddled in the stairwell. The sounds of battle were louder beneath our feet, and I thought about all those staff members probably clustered together downstairs. The smoke got thicker, but I couldn’t see any fire.
I remember the second floor mostly in clips and images. Pounding on doors. Arrows flying in through shattered bedroom windows. Occasional fireballs, the fire exploding across the wooden paneling and furniture of rooms. The staff behind locked doors screaming when we shoved our way in, but doing what we told them and hunkering down behind the walls, making for the stairs. One young man completely dead, no pulse, an arrow through his throat. The body in the next room looking dead but proving me wrong by grabbing my ankle. It’s Maren who washes dishes in our kitchen. Her black hair is a tangled mess, clumped with blood. An arrow juts from the right side of her chest. She’s gasping and I figure it’s in her lung, she’s drowning on blood. I do my best to drag her toward the door away from the arrows still bouncing off the ceiling. Smoke everywhere, every breath scorching my throat.
The two of us in the hallway, I’m hunched over the girl to shield her from arrows and breaking glass. My parched throat feels like it’s tearing as I’m screaming for Shield. The girl, Maren, she’s trying to cry but she can’t get enough breath. Shield is standing at the stairway with her kite shield blocking several windows, waving at two women to run through. They’re holding hands as they enter the stairwell, tears caking the ash on their faces.
I’m stroking Maren’s hair, telling her to hold on. Shield’s boots pounding on the floorboards toward us. She kneels down and pulls off a glove with her teeth, touching the girl’s neck. Our eyes meet and Shield shakes her head. I try to argue with her, Maren is still alive, she’s crying. But Maren isn’t crying. Her eyes are lightless orbs, reflecting nothing. Shield drags me toward the stairs. I don’t want to leave Maren, she’s right there, can’t you see her right there.
Shield got me halfway to the stairwell. I tried to bolt back, but she slapped me across the face. Not gentle, hard enough to rattle my teeth. Maybe she forgot she put her studded gloves back on. Either way, it did the trick. I came back to myself and my head cleared. She still looked unsure, concerned.
“You with me, Belkan?” she asked.
I nodded.
She grabbed me for a quick hug. “It’s going to be bad until the end, but stick with me, okay? We’ll get through this.”
I nodded again. I trusted her.
And that was when the floor gave out from beneath us with a splintering crash and a swirl of embers.
Shield and I fell into a burning kitchen. I slammed onto the prep table, which was only recognizable because the flames made that approximate shape. My back screamed at me as the flesh was seared. I rolled off the shattered table and across the floor, trying to extinguish myself.
Shield picked herself up off the tiles, looking dazed. Her looped bandage had come loose and was gathered around her neck, the gauze pad still clinging to her eye. She ripped it off and it took a good chunk of her eyebrow with it. The eye looked fine, but she was blinking it a lot.
We both started gagging on smoke. I extinguished the flames on my back and stayed down close to the floor, and I dragged Shield down, too. We gasped in the thin layer of scorched air along the floorboards. We crawled on our elbows and knees toward the back door leading to the alley, but found it completely blocked by wreckage. I could have screamed in frustration if I’d been able to get a full breath.
The smoke thickened as flames devoured more of the room. Shield and I crawled back to the door leading into the main mess hall and entryway. This being the first floor, every window was tiny and high up on the wall. Privacy windows, the rich called them. A good defense, we called them. Except when your enemy is fire.
We found another of the staff huddled against the other door, leading out to the mess hall. She was a chambermaid, perhaps fourteen years old. For some reason, I noticed she was wearing a stylish red dress. Unusual taste for a chambermaid. Another one of Sen’s rescues? my oxygen-starved brain asked. I realized with some concern I was starting to lose track of the situation. The girl clearly wasn’t having my problem; she was weeping and scratching at the crack of the door with bloody fingernails, trying to pry it open. Shield and I rose into a half-crouch and rushed at the door, smashing into it on both edges simultaneously. It blew apart and flew in splinters into the mess hall. We followed the door out into the room. I dragged the stylish chambermaid by the hand.
The mess hall was filled with smashed dining tables. None of the tables were on fire yet. A battle raged in front of the far doorway which led into the wide entry hall. Captain was facing several armed men, heavily outnumbered. The intruders wore the same nondescript outfits we’d seen on the mercenaries attacking people around town. Each of them carried a longsword.
Captain held his enormous curved sword high in his right hand, point down, left hand against the back of the blade. He deflected blow after blow, left hand sliding up and down the back of the blade to shrink or extend the length he had to swivel. One of his opponents left himself exposed and Captain raised his left hand during the parry, extended the hand, holding just the tip to brush it across the man’s throat and tear it wide open. The man fell back against the wall clutching his bubbling throat and gurgling.
Shield reached Captain and the two Keepers threw themselves into the fray, working to clear a path to the entryway. Through the doorway I glimpsed Sen and Ugly locked in battle. I could hear Tavel roaring in the next room, venting his boiling rage from the night before.
The chambermaid was beating on my shoulder with her fist, demanding that I do something. I had no idea what could be done, we seemed to be trapped here in the mess hall. Meanwhile, the fire was spreading from the kitchen through the walls. Already it was racing along the wooden wall between us and the entry hall.
I got an idea. A stupid idea. Maybe my worst idea ever. But it was all I had.
I dropped the girl’s hand and rushed at the wall. I aimed for the corner where the wall was burning with real gusto. I tensed up and hurled my entire body against the burning wood as hard as I could. My bones crunched together from the force and my skin blistered, but I heard the wooden snapping sound I’d hoped for. The wood was starting to turn brittle. I backed up and hurled myself at the wall again. This time, my left shoulder exploded through. Embers caked my skin and I gagged on the stench of my own flesh roasting. I had to wrench myself free of the wall, leaving pieces of skin behind. I drew my sword and hacked at the hole, widening it. When it was wide enough, I tossed my sword through the opening and dove in.
The entry hall was a place of ruin. Every stick of furniture was smashed, and dead mercenaries lay in piles. Tavel was surrounded by a circle of the dead and dying, and as I watched he danced across the room into another cluster of them. He was like a whirlwind unleashed, killing men with every movement. He never deflected any attacks; that would have slowed him down. He stepped inside his enemies’ defenses and took their lives.
Tavel ducked under an enemy’s horizontal swing and drew his own blade across the man’s belly, spilling intestines across the floor. Tavel spun the disemboweled man onto a friend’s thrusting sword and opened that friend’s throat with a casual backhanded swing. The swing spun Tavel around in a pirouette, and he dodged an overhead chop from a mercenary’s sword. Tavel slid one foot forward and drove his blade into the enemy’s inner thigh, opening the artery there. The wounded man screamed like a stuck pig and dropped his weapon, trying to stop the flow of lifeblood with his hands.
Tavel didn’t finish his enemies off. A dying friend is more of a problem in a fight than a dead one, because a dying man will clutch at his allies and get in their way. Tavel used his broken foes to form living barriers against avenues of attack.
Across the room, Ugly fought like an animal, hacking with his thick short swords. He severed limbs and shattered bones, breaking his way through the jam surrounding the door. Mercenaries hesitated and backed away from him. He took advantage of their fear and hurled himself into their ranks to claim more ground.
Shield and Captain pressed through the doorway, followed by the chambermaid. The girl fell to the ground sobbing, frantically looking around for an escape. Shield stood over the chambermaid and fought off mercenaries who came for them. Captain went to reinforce Ugly at the door.
Sen was behind me at the back door, trying desperately to stem the tide of black-clad men crowding in. The ones who got through the door spread out around in him a semi-circle. If we got pinched and flanked, we would all die. The fire crept along the wall from the kitchen, climbing the ceiling above Sen and his enemies. I heard the timbers groaning and wondered how long they’d hold, which struck me with an idea.
I joined Sen at the back door and drove the point of my sword into the spine of a dark-skinned man preparing to do the same to Sen. The sword got stuck in his body so I put my boot against the dark man’s hip and kicked him off the end of the blade. I staggered backward and barely arched my back in time to slide under a sword which whistled directly above my face. Sen turned and cut my attacker across the back of his thighs, crippling him. I rolled out of the way, came up on one knee, and drove my sword into the belly of a blond man who was rushing at Sen for an overhead strike. The blond man’s sword dropped from his fingers and almost brained me. I dodged and the pommel cracked into my burned shoulder instead.
I screamed and gritted my teeth. Sen’s training came bursting into my mind and I used the pain to fuel my rage and adrenaline, bull-rushing the mortally wounded opponent backward into his own forces. He was skewered on blades and cried out, clutching at his friends for help. I moved in and stabbed around him, killing more men. Sen did the same, his sword gleaming in the firelight. By the time the crowd got their friend’s corpse out of the way, six more dark-clad men lay wounded and screaming, blocking the crowd’s path.
Sen braced himself for the next wave, but I grabbed him and dragged us backward into the center of the room. With a splintering crack, the ceiling above the doorway gave way. An avalanche of burning beams and flooring poured downward. Glowing shrapnel exploded all around us. The floor buckled and we were thrown backwards. I slammed into a pillar and nearly broke my back. I caught Sen with my chest, clutching at him to stay upright, but I lost the battle and we slid to the floor. Waves of wreckage buried the screaming wounded before us and sealed the door.
I lay against the pillar with one arm around Sen, each of us clutching our sword. He looked over his shoulder and we shared a surprised look, both of us panting, and then we burst into laughter. It was inappropriate in the extreme to the point of being insane. And that’s exactly what we were: insane. In the madness of battle, we had broken beyond our fear to that place where people can do anything, suffer anything, and keep going; when it isn’t about minimizing your pain anymore because your whole world is pain; when the whole world narrows down so it’s purely about surviving at any cost. We laughed while our wounded enemies burned, while Tavel ended lives like it was no big deal, while a chambermaid with bloody fingernails did her best to hide behind Shield’s skirts, while Maren burned upstairs because she had stopped crying.
Sen got up and dragged me to my feet. My leg tried to buckle under me, but Sen caught me by the arm and kept me up. I was afraid to look at what was happening behind us, but he was turning us in that direction and I couldn’t resist. Actually, it wasn’t too bad, if a person doesn’t mind piles of corpses and blood forming pools so deep they have to splash through it. Several staff members were huddled together in the corners, bloody and singed but alive. Tavel and Ugly cleared the main door in a rush of blades and fountains of blood.
