“At the moment, yes.”
“And here I was worried you didn’t have a plan,” said Degan.
In truth, we did more than wander. Since I didn’t have a network in Ten Ways, I had to resort to the basics: eavesdropping, rumormongering, and whisper buying. We roamed the streets, loitered at corners, and crawled in and out of more basement taverns and smoke holes than I could count.
I didn’t find my man right away, but I did hear any number of rumors about what was happening in the cordon. Most were more fantasy than fact, but, after a while, I was able to discern a common thread running through all of them: Everyone—in terms of local gangs and organizations—was getting hit, and most of them were blaming either Nicco or Kells. Even if there wasn’t any proof of their involvement, the common wisdom on the street was that the two Upright Men were positioning themselves for a takeover of the cordon itself. And that wasn’t sitting well with the local Kin.
It was exactly what Degan and I had feared, and it had the Gray Prince’s fingers all over it. Not only was the Prince going to get Nicco and Kells to go to war with each other, but she was also prepping the local gangs to fight the Upright Men for her. I doubted she’d be able to call all the shots once the fighting began, but I was certain she was ready to step in and come off as the hero in the end. And, if we were right, this was only the beginning.
My one chance of preventing all this was the book. Whatever it was, she clearly wanted it. If I could find Larrios and get my hands on it, I could use the book as leverage to negotiate with the Prince. I doubted I’d be able to save Ten Ways, but maybe I could ransom the rest of the Underworld from her; or at least keep Kells and his—my—organization in one piece.
It was two hours past midnight when we came out of yet another dive. This one had smelled primarily of sweat and vomit—definitely a step up from the previous two.
“I think I’ll just burn the whole damn cordon down and be done with it,” I said to Degan as we took a deep breath of the night air. “Easier for everyone that way.”
Degan laughed. “There’ll always be a Ten Ways,” he said. We started walking. “Burn it down tonight, and tomorrow morning someone will be building on the ashes.”
“And
that
would only be a cover so they could dig for melted hawks,” I said.
“My, but you’re a pessimistic one,” said a voice off to our right.
Degan had his blade out and pointed at a deep doorway in an instant. I put a restraining hand on his shoulder but otherwise didn’t move. I’d recognized the voice.
“I find that pessimism keeps me from being disappointed,” I said.
A piece of shadow moved within the doorway and stepped out. Tall, cloaked, hooded—he could have been anyone, except for the voice.
“Prudent,” said the cloaked Kin. Once again, the cowl was so far forward, and the shadows so dark, I couldn’t see his face. The hood turned to face Degan and held out his hands, palms up. “Your friend and I have an arrangement,” he said.
“Do you now?” said Degan.
“We do,” I said. “He’s the one who’s going to lead us to Larrios.” I turned to the Kin. “Assuming he’s managed to
find
Larrios, that is.”
He bowed slightly from the waist. “I can show you where he was staying as of sunset.”
I nodded, then looked at Degan. He still had his sword pointed at the Kin. I was about to say something when Degan dropped the tip of his weapon and sent it home to its scabbard with a snap.
“Lead on,” I said.
The cowl shook back and forth. “Payment first,” he said, holding out a gloved hand.
“Not until I see Larrios,” I said. Thunder rumbled overhead. I allowed myself a small smile at nature’s timing.
“There are other buyers,” said the smooth voice inside the hood. “Larrios is a popular man right now.”
Meaning Iron Degan was likely offering a reward as well. “One half now,” I said. “The rest after.”
“Done.”
I counted some hawks into his hands. He laughed at the amount. We dickered, finally settling on a price.
Our walking shadow led us deeper into Ten Ways. The alleys grew steadily narrower as we went, seeming to gather and condense the darkness around us. The buildings on either side went from shoddy to pathetic to practically uninhabitable. Evidence of fires marked several structures, and those that had not collapsed in on themselves looked to be seriously considering the idea. And the stench . . . It almost made me miss the sewers. Waste, rot, decay—and most of it human in origin. Somewhere along the way it began to rain, which at least reduced the smell.
The worst part, though, was that things were beginning to look familiar.
“The Barren,” I said to no one in particular.
The Kin’s cowl turned to face back over his shoulder. “You know it?” he asked.
“I used to live here,” I said. Live? More like “survive”—that hadn’t been living. “I swore I’d never return.”
“Oaths are meant to be broken,” said the Kin. Behind me, I heard Degan grumble deep in his throat.
The more desolate a place, the less it changes. Then again, it wasn’t as if anyone was going to come running into the Barren and start fixing things up. The neighborhood was wide-open—no one ruled here—and people seldom asked, or answered, questions.
This made it all the more impressive that our guide had managed to find Larrios here, of all places. You didn’t track someone down in the Barren unless you were local, or good, or both. He didn’t strike me as the former, which pointed at the latter. But if he was that good, what was he doing here?
Sometimes, the best way to get answers is to let a thing play out. I didn’t expect this Kin to tell me what his game was, but that didn’t mean I had to walk into it blind, either. I loosened my rapier in its sheath and let my left hand slide closer to my dagger. Degan noticed and followed suit. If anything happened, I decided, our guide would be the first to go down.
We stopped at the end of a particularly narrow alley. “There,” said our guide, pointing out of the alley and down the street. “The fourth one on the left. Larrios is on the second floor.”
I had to squeeze past him just to see where he was pointing. “Which room?” I asked.
The cowl turned toward me. “How should I know? You’re lucky I found him at all.”
I studied the building through the rain. It looked to be an old warehouse of some kind, but I couldn’t be sure.
Rain has always caused problems with my night vision; looking through it is like looking through a curtain of fine beads falling from the sky. I can still make things out, but it gets disorienting now and then. This time it was worse—despite the rest I had gotten, despite all the seeds I was taking, I was still feeling the last several days weighing down on me. Fatigue was doing as much to blur my vision now as the rain.
“How do we know he’s still in the building?” I asked.
“Larrios is there,” said the smooth voice. “Don’t worry.”
“What, you made him promise to stay put?” I said.
The cowl remained pointed at me for a long moment. I gathered I was being scowled at. “He’s there,” repeated the Kin.
“Let’s hope so,” I said. “Otherwise, you owe me a fairsized pile of hawks.”
“Just worry about what you’ll owe me when you’re done,” said the Kin.
I turned to Degan. “Ready?”
Degan had pulled his hat lower to keep the rain from his eyes. It made him look ominous. He nodded, and we headed out, leaving the cloaked Kin standing in the alley.
The top layer of dirt and refuse on the street had softened in the rain. It shifted and slid beneath our feet as we walked to the building. There was no door on the hinges. We went in.
Puddles were already beginning to form on the first floor. The sound of the water dripping from the ceiling overhead blended with the whisper of the rain to produce a constant noise that was at once both gentle and disturbing. The air was heavy with the smell of mold.
The lower level was open and empty. A small forest of posts had once held up the entire second floor, although a good third of it had fallen through at some point in the past. We were halfway to the stairway at the back of the building when we heard several loud thumps from somewhere above us.
Degan and I stopped and looked at each other. We listened.
Drip drip
,
splash splash.
Then the sounds came again. Footsteps.
“Shit!” I said. “He’s moving!”
Degan and I raced for the stairs. I scrambled up as fast as I could, Degan vaulting along beside me, clearing two steps at a time. The stairs creaked and groaned, but didn’t collapse beneath us.
The second floor consisted of a big main room with several large doorways to our left and right. A good half of the roof was gone up here, covering the floor with its remains. I noticed that the rain was now coming down harder. A path had been cleared in the debris, leading from the stairs to one of the doorways under the surviving portion of roof. A curtain hung across the doorway, and a feeble flicker of light showed around its edges.
We ran for the curtain without a word. I wondered if the cloaked Kin outside would stop Larrios if he made it out of the building before us. More likely he’d let the Whipjack run so he could follow him and charge me for his location all over again.
When I tossed the curtain aside, I had my rapier in one hand, dagger in the other, and Degan at my back. Larrios was empty-handed. Even better, the two men who were busy beating the crap out of him hadn’t drawn their weapons.
I smiled.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist you stop kicking that Whipjack’s ass—that’s my job.”
The man closest to us looked up almost casually from where he was kneeling, while the other didn’t even pause in dealing out his punishment. Both were wearing dark, water-laden cloaks.
“Get out,” said the first man. “Now.”
I stepped through the doorway so Degan could come in behind me. The room was wide and deep. Toward the back, near Larrios and the men, a trio of candles flickered on the floor. My eyes ached a moment, then adjusted. I put my rapier through a small circle in the air to make sure it caught what little light there was.
“Just what I was going to suggest to you,” I said.
The first man got slowly to his feet. The other slowed in his work but still kept up a rhythmic pounding of Larrios’s face and body, alternating fists with each strike. Degan and I moved a step closer.
The first man studied me for a moment, then moved his shoulders forward and back, shifting his cloak so that it hung behind him.
“Mistake,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I was too busy staring at the white sash wrapped around his waist and the golden imperial hawk emblazoned on his breastplate.
Chapter Seventeen
W
hite Sashes!
I froze, all my bravado gone in an instant. What the hell were two of the emperor’s elites doing here, working over Larrios? Why did they want him? What the
hell
had I just walked into?
I opened my mouth to say . . . What? What do you say to men whose predecessors had nearly wiped out the Kin? Men who, if we weren’t lucky, might very well try to do it again? Not a lot, I decided, especially when there were two of them and two of us.
Lousy, lousy odds.
I began to put up my sword and back away, hoping to make it out of the room in one piece. They could have Larrios; I’d find some other angle on all this. Confer with Kells, maybe even dust Rambles or Iron Degan. As long as I steered clear of the Sashes, I would be ahead.
Then Degan rushed past me and changed everything.
I watched in horror as he charged the closest Sash, his sword low, a snarl on his lips. The Sash, for his part, barely adjusted his stance. He didn’t even bother to draw his sword.
Shit. Shit. Oh shit.
At the last possible moment, Degan launched himself in the air, changing his low attack into a high one. The Sash twisted and tried to pivot sideways off his front foot. The maneuver didn’t quite clear him from the path of Degan’s cut, but it was enough to cause Degan’s blade to skip off the Sash’s breastplate and strike him across the shoulder instead.
The Sash yelled out in pain even as Degan landed and planted the elbow of his free arm in the Sash’s face. The Sash staggered back, blood gushing from his nose, and managed to draw his own sword and parry Degan’s next thrust.
“Take this one!” yelled Degan as he stepped back, putting both Sashes in his field of vision. The second was already on his feet, his own blade out and moving, threatening Degan. There was no way Degan could finish off the first Sash without opening himself up to an attack from the second.
Take him?
I thought. How? With what? I was a fucking Nose, for Angel’s sake!
I looked over at Larrios. Maybe between the two of us . . . But no, he was an unmoving lump on the floor. No help there.