The Righteous

Chel jogged beside his sister, kidding himself that he was keeping her safe, his legs burning along with his lungs. He’d long since let the bloody sword drop, had kicked it away into an alley. He’d told himself that he needed to conserve what little strength he had, but beneath this rationale lurked an abiding desire to be rid of the thing that had little to do with any forthcoming need for self-defence. Sab kept easy pace at his side, ducking through the warren of adjoining buildings as they made for the Shanties gate.

‘What happened back there?’ she said, breath catching. ‘What did the Nort do? What else is in that sack?’

‘The Nort?’ Chel gasped, flicking a glance over his shoulder. The Nort was keeping up, his mysterious sack still shouldered and a look of determination on his young face, shuffling along beside Tarfel. Rennic brought up the rear, shepherding them along with a glower from beneath the hood of his pilfered cloak. ‘From his reaction, I’d say he was as surprised as us. Are you sure it was brandy in that barrel?’

She shook her head. ‘It came from the lower cellars. It’s usually where they keep the brandy … Shepherd’s tits, there were dozens of barrels down there … It cracked the wall, Bear. Did you see? It cracked the citadel wall!’

The Widowgate hove into view, a dark and stubby thing festering in the brutal New Wall. Rennic stepped ahead of them. ‘Who has silver? Anything valuable?’

Chel gave him an even look.

Tarfel slapped at his cloak. ‘I think I have a token somewhere, it’s a trifle really—’

Rennic waved him away. He slung the re-wrapped glaive at Chel, then stalked off toward the gate guards. The others huddled in the faint shadow of a workshop.

Chel found himself standing beside the little Nort. He looked down at the heavy sack, then found the Nort gazing up at him, a glare of challenge. ‘So, er,’ he coughed, ‘they let you keep all that alchemical stuff close to your cell? That was … er …’

The Nort said nothing, holding his gaze with unblinking eyes.

Rennic stepped out from the shadow of the gate and waved them forward. They hurried through, hoods down, while the guards studiously looked the other way.

‘What did you offer them?’ Chel asked as Rennic took back the glaive.

‘Promises,’ he said. ‘And we’ll be long gone before they realize they were dust.’

‘Ain’t that the way,’ Chel said. He was very tired. And hungry. Very hungry. ‘Does anyone have any food?’

***

The Shanties still reeked of smoke and soot, parts charred black and broken from Spider’s fire. Their ill-starred entry to the city seemed so long ago now. They crept through the winding labyrinth of nominally temporary structures, snow and charcoal crunching underfoot. Water dripped from somewhere, always seeming to be both ahead and behind. They saw no one.

‘What are you going to do about the prince? He can’t go back, can he?’

Sab was beside him again, her hand on his arm, helping him around a blackened spar as his stride faltered.

‘No. Not after that.’

‘And nor can I.’

‘No.’ Chel realized that he was feeling relief, a great wash of sensation, an unwinding knot of tension. His fingers tingled from it. He was free, and his sister was safe. ‘No, you can’t go back there.’

She grunted, and they walked on in silence for a time.

‘How did you get into this mess, Bear? Last time I saw you, you were in the favour of two princes, destined for great things. Why do I next encounter you as a condemned traitor to the crown? Did you get very drunk?’

‘We … I think we made things worse.’ He swallowed. ‘But what about you?’ He felt anger rising in his voice, now they were free, now the immediate danger had passed; a hot, raw frustration born of ignorance and insecurity. ‘You were a fucking Rau Rel spy? Did you consider for a moment the risk—’

She put a hand on his arm, drew him to a stop, and his words died. She met his faltering gaze with steady, moist eyes. ‘Bear, we’re all growing up fast.’ One hand ran down his cheek, lingering at the scar on his lip, the broken bulge of his jaw. ‘I’m glad I can still recognize you. How are you, really? Are you all right? I’m so sorry I couldn’t … Things took so long to arrange …’

He put his hand on hers, then wrapped his arms around her, and wept for the first time in all of it, in all the weeks of captivity, misery, and doubt. He cried on his sister’s shoulder until he was a heaving, empty husk, and felt her sobbing against him in return. He realized he was talking, mumbling, forming the words ‘thank you’ over and over into her cloak.

‘We’re not out yet.’ Rennic shook his shoulder, drawing him gently away. Chel looked up in tearful defiance, but he saw his emotion mirrored on the big man’s face, his own eyes glazed with unshed tears. His voice was little more than a whisper. ‘We need to keep moving, little man.’

Chel sniffed, nodded, and on they pressed, the weight of the Shanties pressing down around them. He remembered the children he’d seen playing therein, their rhymes and songs.

We were supposed to be lucky.

***

Sab led them up into the hills, away from the slabs of the walls and the malignant gaze of the citadel’s tower. She’d recovered some of her poise, and chattered as they climbed, of what she’d seen within the citadel, of her covert operations for the Rau Rel. Chel paused for breath at the edge of the woods, looking back over the city beneath its pall of winter smoke, now thickened by the alchemical plume from their distant intervention. Below them, the main road wound around to the ruined old bridge, clad in ugly stacks of wooden scaffolding, then away toward the gates. Small structures lined the road, thin poles, dotted at the top with …

‘Best not look too close,’ Rennic muttered from beside him. One of his knees seemed to be giving him trouble. ‘You won’t want to risk recognizing anyone.’

Of course: they were heads. Dozens upon countless dozens, girdling the road like fence-posts.

Sabina was following his gaze, and Chel heard her breath catch. ‘The bastard,’ she hissed. ‘The unconscionable … Why didn’t you stop him?’

Chel turned, his mouth already framing an earnest defence, but her words were addressed to Tarfel. The prince stood slumped, panting and pink-cheeked from the climb, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

‘Me? What could I do?’

‘You’re his brother! Who else can stand up to him?’

Rennic pushed himself back upright. ‘Let’s hope our fates don’t rest on this little piss-cloth,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s get where we’re going, get to someone who can actually make a difference.’

With a pointed look at the prince, Sab led them into the woods. Before long, they reached a clearing, where she came to a hesitant stop. It looked deserted, and the sun had long since disappeared behind the hills; if it had been cold before, the coming night promised something altogether worse.

Rennic strode ahead, into the clearing, fierce eyes scanning the trees in the dying light.

‘This is the place?’

‘It should be.’ Sab crinkled her nose. ‘I’ve never actually been out here …’

‘But?’

‘But I left a message in the usual drop. They should know we’re coming.’

‘Depends if there was anyone left to listen. As our friends along the road can attest, King Corvel has been busy.’

Something rustled in the gloom beyond the clearing, and Rennic froze, hands gripping the glaive. Chel felt his pulse quicken but nothing more. His muscles were spent, his very bones exhausted, and he’d long since given up on the idea of food. He wanted to lie down on the ground and let the world wash over him. Beside him, Tarfel whimpered.

A hoot came from somewhere around them, a formless owl, too loud, too imprecise. Rennic unfroze, a broad grin spreading across his face in the twilight. He visibly relaxed, letting the end of the glaive rest on the ground, then put one hand to his mouth and hooted in return.

A figure detached from the darkness of the trees, striding across the clearing with a sun-bright smile. Even in the low light, Chel could recognize Whisper’s lithe gait anywhere, the springing confidence in every step. She raced to Rennic, embracing him with silent affection, while he let the glaive fall.

The bushes beside him rustled and crackled, then an orange-haloed figure emerged blinking into the clearing. ‘All right, wankers?’ said Lemon. ‘How’s tricks?’

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