Making Peace, page 18
Captain and Shield breached the door, rushing out into the night. Screams echoed in the street. Ugly and Tavel rushed out, and the screaming got worse. The kids dragging Vapor went next, followed by the chambermaid and the rest of the staff. Sen and I brought up the rear.
By the time I made it into the street, every surface was splattered with blood. Thirty more men stood arrayed before the building in a semicircle. All were clad in the same dark uniform, and their shoulders all bore the same patch: the number 100 over a double H. The men surged forward and fell upon the Keepers in a frenzy.
A step behind my allies, I fell to one knee and gasped for breath. My body was burned and shaking with fatigue. Ugly was covered in deep cuts around his arms and chest. Shield was shaking her head and blinking her injured eye as if she couldn’t clear it. Vapor was still out of it, though she was shaking her head and mumbling as if being this close to the screaming was bringing her around ever so slowly. I wondered if we’d survive long enough for her to wake up. Tavel’s swings were still impressive but definitely slower, and I saw him deflecting blades now. Captain seemed to be fine, but he couldn’t carry this all on his own.
I steeled myself for the end of my life. So much undone, so many regrets. That awful title of my last book was a big one. I forced myself to my feet and surged forward to trade blows with the dark-clad attackers. Blades sliced into my flesh as my reactions slowed, but I plunged my blade into bodies again and again and held the line.
All around us, horns began to sound. They echoed through the streets, clear notes deafening me. The Watch had finally arrived. They tore into the crowd of dark-clad attackers from both sides, taking some of the pressure from us. Still, it didn’t look like it would be enough as the attackers grew more frantic. They chopped at us with their blades, battering our defenses and driving us back several paces. The side of a blade cracked against my head and I nearly collapsed, but Sen caught me. He continued to deflect blades with his sword.
A grizzled mercenary in the crowd saw Vapor down and lunged for her with a spear. Ugly stepped in and drove one of his blades up into the underside of the man’s jaw. The grizzled mercenary jerked once and collapsed, taking the blade with him. Ugly’s meaty hands scooped up the mercenary’s dropped longsword, and he whirled into the next man with Shield beside him. The two Keepers fought like monsters, forming a barrier between the enemy and the helpless staff.
Sen squeezed me around the ribcage where his arm was supporting me. I turned my head to meet his eyes and read the meaning in them: This is it. Buy the staff enough time for the Watch to arrive.
The finality in his eyes would have chilled me, but instead the laughter came bubbling up again. My legs took my weight again as I stood myself up. Sen and I launched into the enemy one more time, both of us laughing.
We fought as one, two swords working within the same patterns. One would open a defense, the other would take the strike. Ugly and Shield worked to our right, Tavel and Captain to our left. I was stabbed in the shoulder, the thigh, took a punch to the side of the head, but I kept going. Blood leaked from me in a hundred places. It must have been the same for Sen, but neither of us slowed. We laughed and killed, killed and laughed.
Bodies piled around us, but something else happened, too. When that many people die on a battlefield, their weapons pile up as well. A sword tripped me up halfway through a swing, so I kicked it out of the way behind myself. I heard the blade rasp on the stones as someone lifted it. Thinking Tavel had missed someone, I half-turned. One of the staff, the young blond man who had been carrying Vapor, stood behind me and held the sword. He was shaking like a leaf, but he stepped forward into our formation at the worst possible moment.
I saw the spear coming. I had turned and left myself exposed, and someone had thrown it. Distracted by the damned kid, of course. The spear was about to take me in the chest and end my life right there. Nothing could stop it.
Until the damned kid stepped in front of it. He didn’t mean to; he didn’t even see the thing. He thought he was going to be a hero, to do his part. He stepped up beside me to fight back and took the spear in his chest instead. His fight was over the moment it began.
I caught him as he sagged to the ground. It was a stupid thing to do, really, and I was only saved by the fact the Watch broke through at that moment and ended the battle in my vicinity. I held the kid as he died, lowering him slowly to the blood-drenched street. The spear had already pieced his heart and then wobbled and torn it apart. His eyes were fixed over my shoulder in this look of surprise, like a cow finding out there’s only death behind the woodshed. There would be no trying to cry for this one, no calling Shield. I collapsed with him, beside him in the street. I didn’t want to, but my body didn’t give me a choice. The fight wrapped up around us. The six of us had made it through. But not this kid.
I was suddenly angry at him. The stupid little bastard. I shook him violently and I screamed in his dead face, “You stupid little shit, that wasn’t yours to take. You stupid little shit.”
Sen was shaking me now, trying to pull me off, but I wouldn’t let him. Ugly came over, and together they pried my fingers out of the dead boy’s shirt. I couldn’t look at him anymore, lying there in the street with that surprised cow look on his stupid little face. I limped over to the gutter, already packed with running blood, and puked my guts out.
When I’d finished, I turned and saw the Watch gathering the survivors. About half the staff had made it. They had been herded into an alley across the street and were being guarded by the Watch. Some of the staff lay dead around the front of our building, the first ones out into the street. Some of them had probably tried to go for help.
The Watch had brought hydromancers, water-focused nano-mages, to put out the flames. They had kicked up a heavy rain localized on our block and were funneling water inside the building to kill the flames. The clatter of rain on so much leather and armor, the sobbing of the staff in their alley, the rising humidity in the air increasing the coppery stink of blood and the foulness of death around me; a man can choke on smells, but also on sounds.
I saw Captain deep in heated discussion with what looked like the ranking member of the Watch, a woman in heavy gray armor with a bright red cape hanging from her shoulders. Her face was lined in wrinkles and her hair was a salt and pepper mix. Captain was gesturing sharply around the street, his face contorted in anger. They seemed on the verge of a shouting match, when a terrible screaming sounded from behind me. I whipped around. My exhausted arm tried to raise my sword but failed.
Shield screamed as she ran toward a body propped up against one of the buildings opposite ours, about twenty feet from me. The body was Cora, my friend. She was seated against the wall with a bloodstain in the center of her chest, her eyes wide and lightless. Shield crouched in front of Cora and bowed her head. Her fingers twined in the front of Cora’s stained apron, tiny handfuls, like a child grabbing at her mother’s skirts. Rain poured from every point of Shield’s face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, an animal sound of grief rushing forth. Not a wail or a keen, but a deep-throated roar, a sound I had never imagined a woman could make. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood there like an idiot, watching her scream. Ugly walked past me and approached Shield. He collapsed into a sitting position on the street behind her and watched over her as she grieved.
Without meaning to, I found myself looking at the blond kid who took the spear for me. I didn’t even know his name. My boots splashed through rainy blood puddles as I walked back to his side, sheathing my sword as I went. I didn’t hate him anymore. I never had; not really. I pulled the spear out and did my best not to jostle him too much in the work of it. I had to jerk the point out of the bone and I might have murmured something stupid like, “Sorry,” as if he cared.
The boy looked terrible just lying there on the stones, so I closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his belly. I wished I had my shirt so I could cover him up, but I found a knife on one of the dead mercenaries, cut off the mercenary’s shirt, and used that to cover the boy’s face. I found the sword he’d wanted to use and put it in his hands, like I’d seen in sketches of warrior tombs. He’d earned it.
A sound trickled in, confusing me at first but growing more familiar with each moment. Finally, I realized it what it was: music. Singing, to be precise. Someone was singing. Angry, I turned to find who was desecrating this moment, this place of grief. I found the source, and froze.
Ugly was singing, sitting right there in the street, covered in blood, his body cut in a thousand places.
I tried to figure out why I couldn’t understand his words. Some part of my brain not touched by numbness informed me he was speaking a different language. The words seemed more lyrical than our common tongue, blending together without gaps or stops. His voice, rough at the best of times, was softened by the beauty of the words. The alien words were haunting, drawing me in despite myself.
Around me, the other Keepers took up the song, one by one. Captain left off his argument with the Watch leader to join in. Tavel wove his voice into the song, strong and proud. Sen joined in, his heart in his throat. Last was Shield, who still sat hunched over her friend. She sang the words while resting her forehead against Cora’s. They all joined together in one song, and they came to life again. Maybe the joining reminded them of what they still had. I wished then I’d known the words.
The song ended. Ugly was holding Shield: she had crawled into his lap, armor and all, and had her face buried in the front of his shirt, shaking like her world was coming apart. Maybe it was. I’d only lived through this once, and I still wasn’t sure I was going to come out the other side. How much more terrible must it be for each of the Keepers, who regularly faced this and worse? I looked back at the dead blond kid. Maybe I didn’t survive after all, I thought. Maybe part of me died right here with this boy whose name I don’t even know.
Sen found me. “There’s a safehouse for us nearby. A secret one,” he amended at my skeptical look. “We’re going to be guarded round the clock now, by loyalists within the Watch.”
When I made no move to join the rest of the Keepers, Sen grabbed my shoulder. I almost drew my sword on him, but the look in his eyes stopped me. I remembered us laughing only ten minutes before. Only ten minutes? I think it was. I let him steer me away from the kid in the street. We got into the wagons the Watch brought and we drove away from the wet, stinking pit our home had become.
CHAPTER 25
THE WATCH SETTLED us into some out of the way warehouse, near where the assassin Locust had made his own hideout. Ugly said it was already a Keeper safehouse, and now that it was activated and the Watch knew about it the whole place would have to be moved once we were done. The safehouse was another gray stone building, large and sectioned into multiple rooms with pale gray stone walls. It leaked when it rained, and it smelled like mildew even when it wasn’t raining. At least we knew stone couldn’t burn.
The Watch guarded us day and night. The First House paid their bills, and they owed their allegiance to the Hegemon, at least on paper. They rotated in and out of the First House to make up the bulk of the guards there, supplemented with the Hegemon’s personal guard. After the Hegemon had a full dozen Watch members executed for not catching the assassin the first time, though, they were more firmly on our side than on any of the Houses’. They clanked around the place in heavy chainmail, armed to the teeth, linen tabards displaying the highly obvious sigil of the Watch, a large red human eye.
Because we were being hunted, Captain laid down some new rules: no going out without prior authorization, no wearing Keeper badges within three blocks of the safehouse, and cover our face when we came and went. The surviving staff members stayed with us, presumably for the sake of convenience so they could continue to support us, but more probably because Captain felt they would be in danger if any of them tried to go home. Even so, we were shorthanded, and we ended up sleeping on dirty bedding and wearing the same dirty clothes every day. Fortunately, the cook had survived the attack, so we had warm meals round the clock.
We learned that so many of the staff had survived because Cora had reacted quickly. She’d begun herding all the staff on the ground floor out the front door at the first sign of trouble. Cora and one of the cleaners had tried fending off the soldiers with nothing but their brooms. Even so poorly armed and presenting no threat, the mercenaries had cut her down, but she’d bought time and saved many lives with her selfless act. The Watch held a funeral for Cora and the other staff members, but none of us were allowed to go. We were hunted now, and it was a sure thing our enemies would look for us at the funeral.
We had to sleep in cramped quarters. Shield and Vapor, who was still unconscious, took one room; Captain and Ugly took another. That left me with Sen and Tavel in a tiny cell with gray walls and three folding military cots. We got along all right, for the most part. I woke up on the first night to Tavel throwing his boot at me and snarling that he didn’t know who Maren was or why I wanted her to cry, but if I didn’t stop screaming about her he’d make me cry instead. A darkness had crept into Tavel’s expression after losing so many friends. The usual joviality and kindness in his face had been replaced with narrowed eyes and a constant scowl. To keep the peace, I made sure I tied cloth around my mouth at night to muffle my nightmare screams.
We were stuck inside for days, in cramped quarters, doing very little. Sen taught me one of the local card games.
On the third day, I finally had some time to myself. Sen and Tavel were out on some task for Captain, and the safehouse was fairly quiet. Strains of music being played out in the street, low and sweet, drifted in through the open windows. I lay back on the bed with my legs hanging over the side and crossed my hands behind my head, gazing up at the cracked ceiling.
A dry, scratchy throat had plagued me since the fight. The Watch physician had checked me out and declared me healthy, but I couldn’t swallow or breathe without some pain. It was just enough to be an annoyance and give me no moment of peace. And it seemed to get worse when I thought about Cora or Maren.
I kicked off my boots and swung my legs up onto the cot, stretching out fully. It had been bothering me, the way my mind kept skipping away from thinking about the two dead women. The dead kid, too. Shame boiled up inside of me whenever I found myself avoiding thoughts of the dead. I should have been mourning Cora at least, who had worked so hard to make me feel at home among the Keepers. But, instead, I felt nothing. Just was a cold, empty space and then my mind skipped away from her and went to any other topic it could get its hands on. Maren and the kid, too.
But no, that isn’t true, is it? I thought. Tavel said I’d been saying Maren’s name in my sleep, but I couldn’t remember any dreams. What is that all about?
A deep sigh poured out of me, starting right from my toes and rolling its way up. I raised my hands toward the ceiling and steepled the fingers outward, cracking my finger joints one by one.
“Shield, I could really use your advice right now,” I said into the empty room.
That was another sore spot. Shield was still working alongside the Keepers, but she’d otherwise withdrawn from the rest of us. Her smile seemed completely fake, the mask slipping alarmingly. I had passed her on the way to the dining area yesterday and opened my mouth to say hello, but she had covered her face with her hands and bolted past me down the narrow hallway rather than let me see her falling apart.
I let my hands rest together on my chest as I listened to the music in the street. A woman was singing now, her husky voice adding weight to the lighthearted tune being played by two or three instruments.
Vapor’s coma persisted. I’d visited her yesterday in the medical room they’d set up for her and Shield. I sat beside Vapor’s bed and held her small hand, telling her what had happened. I’d been hoping maybe it would reach her, but there was no response. Frustrated, I’d opened her eyelids to see if she would wake. The colors of her irises were still shifting fluidly through every color of the visible spectrum. The healer we’d brought in said she thought it might be a permanent feature of absorbing so much magical energy all at once. At least the rest of her body seemed to have stabilized and we didn’t need to keep trimming her fingernails three times a day.
That thought reminded me, and I checked the fingernails of my right hand. Blood had been caked under them and had only come out after I’d started digging with a sharp knife.
How many people have I killed now?
In the chaos of the arrow storm, the evacuation of the staff, the fire, and then the fight in our home that spilled out into the street, I had lost count of the number of people I’d cut down. Black spots where I couldn’t recall several seconds at a time created gaps in my memory. The faces of the people I could remember killing danced through my mind, added to the face of the first man with black hair.
Quite a collection, Bel. How many more can you handle? I traced the tip of a finger down the new scar on my left cheek. The puckered flesh ran in a graceful curve along my jawline. I hadn’t even noticed getting it, so it had probably happened during one of the black spots. I recalled Ugly had a similar scar on his jaw and stopped myself from tracing my own.
Another sigh escaped my lips. “Why can’t I feel anything for you, Cora?” I asked out loud. The ceiling didn’t answer me, and Cora didn’t suddenly appear to clear up the confusion.
Shield wouldn’t talk to me, and Vapor was indefinitely asleep. Tavel was darkening in a way I really did not like to think about. Sen hadn’t even so much as cracked a smile since the night of the battle. I hadn’t seen Ugly since the carriage ride to the safehouse, and Captain was working like a man possessed. And Cora was dead.
“It happens to all of us, Bel,” Shield had once said, that time months ago when I’d been freaking out. “We all have a process, and maybe it never really ends. Maybe we keep getting stronger and stronger as we go along, and so we will always need someone to help us handle the pain. This life, this Keeper’s life, certainly isn’t an easy one. Everyone gets through in their own way, but everyone has moments during that process where they fall apart.” Then she had smiled.
