Rhian

Days passed. No sign of Gus and Strauss was still gone. To make matters worse, That Varis and Michael returned from the Drop stuck together like they'd been that way their whole stupid lives. Look, I was still miffed about the way he'd behaved after she roughed me up, but a person can be both understanding and miffed. Michael wasn't all muscle and charm. Michael was a thoughtful man and a good friend. He'd spent a lot of years giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he had an obligation to That Varis the same he had an obligation to me. It was tricky. He knew I'd forgive him faster than she would.

Given how things had been kicking off lately, and seeing as we suspected That Varis of being Lidia's meat puppet, Michael had no choice but to tell her about what we'd been up to—everything we knew about Those Things. But she wasn't having any of it. She could look after herself and she was content living out her retirement with as little to do with our business as possible. Can't say we didn't try.

One night after That Varis and Adeline had gone to bed, Michael and I were lounging around The House, sharing a plate of Ivana's garlic potatoes. I had questions.

"Michael," I said.

"Rhian," he said.

"Know where we can get a boatload of silver?"

It was a tall order, seeing as silver was the world's rarest and most precious metal. Adeline agreed to fashion a silver-plated bullet out of that ring I stole, but it was only one ring, and we couldn't be sure how many of Those Things we might be up against.

Michael didn't answer straightaway on account of he was busy licking his fingers. "There are two silver mines in Amalia that I know of. One over in Leberecht and the other within the borders of Verena."

Leberecht wasn't happening without Strauss and we had no idea when he'd be back.

"Have you got a map to Verena?"

"Even if I did, Councilwoman Faust granted the city their independence on the condition that no Partisan enters and no silver leaves. You can't go to Verena."

"Reckon I've squeezed into tighter places, but have you got a better idea?"

"Yes, I do. You can't go to Verena, but a Barren can. Or someone who looks like a Barren. If our mysterious hero really wants to prove his allegiance, here's his chance."

If you thought I hadn't told Michael about Alexander, think again. It just wasn't worth its own scene on account if it went a lot like, "Oi, Michael, I met the man who saved our lives at the schoolhouse slash-tavern. He wants to help us take out his Crazy Bitch Sister," and then Michael was all right with it.

"You realize I'd be asking him to go around collecting bits of toxic trash that we could turn around and use against him, right?"

"Yeah, and if he wants to help, he'll take the risk. If he doesn't, he'll probably try to stop you. It could be a good opportunity to see where he stands."

The man had a point.

"But Rhian?" Michael popped a tiny potato in his mouth, stuffing it in his cheek. "Be ready to outsmart him, and if you can't outsmart him, be ready to outrun him."

Alexander was eager to help out.

We traveled southwest by foot seeing as we were both fast runners and it was dark and gloomy more often those days. That's important on account of we didn't have to worry too much about the sun blinding him. As far as traveling partners went, Alexander was all right. He kept the pace and didn't do a lot of talking. Apart from when he did.

"You should sleep," he'd say. "You need to eat," he'd say.

Lucky for me, Peter packed one hell of a hamper. Dried meats, bread, and loads of water that tasted like lemons. He'd also packed up some dried dates, and apples, and a few of those purple-fruits I learned were called plums.

The forest was a forest, and in case you hadn't sorted it out, Amalia was basically that. Otherwise, there were a few shitty villages, the Drop, Verena, Jaska, and Leberecht. It takes a lot of years rebuilding after the world splits apart and nearly everybody dies. Each territory did a different job of it. Better or worse? Well, that's a matter of opinion. The point is: the forest in Amalia reminded me of the forest at Palisade, apart from the fact it actually had wolves. Specifically, a half-dead wolf laying at the base of a tree. She'd been badly maimed and I could hardly stand the whimpering.

I reached for my dagger, but Alexander stopped me.

"There's no mercy in death when life is still an option," he said.

"What sort of life do you reckon she'll have while she's bleeding to death?"

Alexander wasn't listening. He was too busy performing a miracle. After laying his hands on the wolf, she was still dirty, but she'd stopped bleeding. On the other hand, Alexander's hair had gone grey at the temples and he'd gained a few lines around his eyes.

"Would you like to choose her name?" he asked.

"Look, you can't bring something back from the brink of death and carry on talking about names," I said. "It's rude. Also, why isn't she trying to eat you?"

The wolf yipped and rolled around carefree in the leaves, exposing her belly.

"She and I have come to an understanding."

Goddess-be-damned heart tricks. I'd seen the Endican Partisans do something similar—communicating with the wild and whatnot. I'd seen it, but I sure as shite didn't understand it. "Couldn't you just ask her what her name is, then?"

"I cannot speak with her the same way you and I speak with each other. Would you like to choose her name?"

After about a minute of knowing her personally, it turned out the wolf was a lovely lass, but she didn't give up a whole lot apart from some hot air, a snort, and six hells of a howl. "Teeth," I said. "We ought to call her Teeth."

The whole affair was strange, but I wasn't about to throw a fit about it. Besides, Teeth made for an excellent scout and around that time, we were flanking the mine. Now, seeing as we were prepared for just about anything, absolutely nothing happened along the way.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

It was sundown when we arrived.

I hadn't seen many mines in my time, but thanks to Michael's intel, nothing about the place was a terrible surprise. I expected something of a tiny village, a crater, ramps, and an Oskari's worth of people buzzing about. When we arrived, there were guards patrolling without a pattern, plenty of Barren slaves, and loads of precious silver—ripe for the taking and stacked in those big buckets with wheels. I'd thought it would be shinier.

Being a Partisan and all, I wasn't welcome in the city so I sure as shite wasn't welcome around the mines, but Alexander was pretending to be a buyer, and my job was to stay out of sight and have his back. After weaving my way through the shadows in the area, I found a perch on the roof of the outpost, watching over his conversation with The Boss.

It didn't seem like I'd missed much.

"I'm not sure where you're getting your information, Mister Roska, but we do not trade silver outside the city of Verena."

I reckoned the city should be made entirely of silver if that were true, and if it were true, I wanted to see it.

"I understand," Alexander said. "But given the rarity outside the city, you should know I'd be willing to offer a much larger sum than any one of your local buyers."

The Boss took a good, hard look at Alexander's big, fat, juicy rings and his expensive leathers and furs. "And what would the proprietor of a glassworks want with silver?"

"Silver is suitable for etching and we are in the midst of an expansion."

"And how much would you need?"

Alexander held up a juicy, jeweled finger. "Before coming to any terms, I'd like a tour of your facility."

"Are you suggesting you have alternatives, Mister Roska?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause and I repositioned myself on the roof as Alexander and The Boss left the outpost and crossed the lot. It was shadowed in the places that weren't lit by torches, and the swarms of people down below were packing up for the night. But the ones in the pit kept on working. And working. And working. One hour, two hours. Beats me. I didn't bring my watch-slash-compass, or any of my other favourite possessions, actually. If I died in Verena where my body would be unreachable, reckoned my mates might want my things. Point is: Alexander and The Boss had been gone for a while, and I was getting paranoid. What if they were on to us? What if this lot knew about Those Things? What if I'd sent Alexander straight into a silver prison?

I had to get inside.

There were only three guards patrolling the ramps. I reckoned That Varis's throwing star would have come in handy if I hadn't left it back in Oskari, but no matter. Stealthy sleeper-holds would have to do, and they did. Dealing with the guards was one thing, but the slaves down below were another story. There were too many of them, the space was too wide-open, and there was only one way into the mines. But I had an idea. I leaped from the rampart and landed in the middle of the crowd. The slaves stopped slaving.

"You're all free to go," I said.

It's what Michael would have done.

The Barrens glanced between one another, and then looked at me as if I'd sprouted six heads.

"Go?" said one.

"Go where?" said another.

"Just about anywhere is probably better than here. Down with slavery."

"Slavery? This is our livelihood," said someone. "The conditions aren't the greatest, but what else would we do?"

All right, so maybe they weren't slaves in the literal sense. I needed a new angle.

"All right, so maybe you're not slaves in the literal sense, but you're telling me this is what you want to do with your lives?"

"We have no choice," said the same one as before.

"No choice? You lot aren't making any sense. Haven't you got skills? Hobbies? I mean, let's face it—two or three of you might get off on working in this pit, but the rest of you can't in good bloody conscience tell me this is it for you."

"I've always enjoyed writing poetry," said someone at the back.

"Brilliant," I said. "And how many poems do get you get done working your arse off, day in and day out? Have you got kids?"

"No."

"Have you got a sickly wife or whatnot?"

"No."

"Right, then. No excuse. Get out there and write some poems."

I made sense to one man, and then three, and then five, and then twelve. Twelve of about seventy-five still foaming at the mouth. Look, I might have been fast, but I wasn't a goddess-be-damned hummingbird. I was surrounded and all I could do was dodge their attacks and stall for an opening. Fists and grabby hands came from all directions as they closed in on me. Duck, swipe, kick. I was knocked in the noggin by a nugget of silver ore. I slapped a man in the face and got slapped right back.

"Enough!"

The Boss and Alexander emerged from the mine, neither of them looking any worse for wear. I'd just missed my chance to make a run for it when a big hand grabbed me by the back of the neck.

"You haven't got to squeeze so bloody hard," I said. "You've got me."

The Boss squeezed harder. "A Partisan—to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I'm a Palisade escort." I squinted, stalling—hoping Alexander might throw me a bone. He didn't. "I was ordered to wait outside the perimeter, right? But my client," I gestured to Alexander, "took longer than expected and when it started getting dark, I panicked."

I missed Gus. He was good at making up stories.

"You're trespassing where Palisade can't protect you," The Boss said. "Your excuses are adorable, but I bet you're working with the other one they brought in recently." The Boss turned to Alexander. "Mister Roska? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Alexander shook his head, dumbfounded. "I have never seen this miscreant before in my life. I suspect my holding you indisposed provided her with an opening to cause a disruption. She appears to be one of those Strachoons. Notorious thieves and spies."

Strachoons? Bloody hells. The Boss wanted Alexander and his oodles of notes to be telling the truth, I could tell. Goddess-be-damned pain in the arse betraying bastard piece-of-shite.

So, jail.

But at least I got to see the city.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.