The Shattered Crown

FORTY-TWO

From the shadows of an alleyway, Rag stared at the entrance to the little tavern. It seemed to be taunting her, like it knew she was scared.

Come on then. What you waiting for?

Rag just sat in the dark, watching. She was good at that; had made a skill of it over the years. On the streets where she’d learned her trade it was almost as important as being a fast picker. Sometimes she’d sit for hours just watching — sizing up the best punters for the pinch. There was no point just rushing into it like a bulldog, risking getting caught for a few measly coppers. Having a keen eye for a fat purse could save you a lot of time and effort. Hells, it could save your life too. In such a tricky business as hers, brains beat speed and brawn every day of the week.

But is it gonna help you now, Rag? Is it gonna save your neck this time or have you just been a bit too bloody clever for your own good?

Kaira had given her the chance to avoid all this. Right at the start she had said she’d take care of Rag, and she was true to her word. It wasn’t enough for Rag, though, was it? Nothing was ever enough.

What would she do anyway, living in a barracks with a bunch of knights? Weren’t no kind of life she wanted. Rag had always wanted to make something of herself. That was never gonna happen being lackey to some warrior woman.

Now though, as she sat staring at that door, it didn’t seem like a half-bad option.

At least you’d be alive, Rag. You’d get to survive. If that’s enough?

Survival had never been enough for Rag. That was why she’d joined the Guild in the first place. That was why she’d risked her neck to come this far. Weren’t no point turning back now.

You never did make things easy for yourself, did you, Rag?

She moved quick across the empty street and tried the door, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t, and the handle turned easy as ever. The door gave a little creak as she opened it, but there was nothing she could do about that now. The raised voices from inside told her it didn’t matter, anyhow. No one would hear.

Rag crept inside and shut the door behind her. She recognised the voices arguing in the bar and before she got round the corner she stopped to listen.

‘We shouldn’t fucking be here.’ That was Shirl, all shrill and scared like a little girl.

‘Where the fuck we gonna go?’ said Yarrick, annoyed, like he’d heard Shirl’s moaning one too many times.

‘He’s right,’ said Essen, his voice sounding strange after having his nose flattened in that dark alleyway the night before. ‘We stay here we’re fugging dead for sure. Bastian’s gonna come in and he’s gonna have some questions we just can’t fugging answer.’

‘There ain’t nowhere we can run to they won’t find us,’ said Yarrick. ‘Runnin’s only gonna make us look guilty.’

‘We are fucking guilty,’ said Shirl. ‘We let them take him like we was nothing.’

‘They were trained,’ Essen replied. ‘Weren’t nothing we could do. You saw what that woman did to Harkas.’

Rag peered round the corner and saw the lads were crouched around the embers of the fire, Harkas standing back a ways staring into the flames.

‘So what the fuck are we gonna do?’ asked Shirl like he was almost in tears.

None of them seemed to have any answer. None of them had a clue what to do now Friedrik was gone and they were the ones that had lost him.

‘We do nothing,’ said Rag, walking into the room as confident as she could.

The lads all stood up at her arrival. Harkas just looked around all slow like he’d known she was there all along.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ asked Shirl.

‘Never mind where the fuck I’ve been,’ Rag said. ‘Start thinking about our story and how we’re gonna stick to it.’ The fat man looked at her like she’d slapped him but said nothing. ‘If Bastian finds out we’ve lost Friedrik every one of us is gonna end up in the Storway with a rock round his neck. So we just don’t tell him. Friedrik’s fucked off before without telling anyone. No one knows where he goes or who he’s with, so that’s what’s happened this time. He left last night; no one’s seen him since. All right?’

Yarrick, Shirl and Essen all looked at her from beneath creased brows. Harkas watched her, his expression blank. It was clear they’d need a moment or two to think on it, and Rag just glared back, looking like she knew what she was on about. Like she’d tried to dupe the leader of the Guild before, and come out on top.

‘This’ll get us all killed,’ said Shirl.

‘No it won’t.’ Yarrick replied. ‘She’s right — no one knows we were with him when he got nabbed. We should just sit tight and wait for someone to come looking for him.’

Yarrick glanced over at Essen who said, ‘Yeah. You’re right.’

‘Are you fucking barmy?’ wailed Shirl. ‘We’re just gonna sit here and wait for them to come for us because she fucking says so?’ He pointed an accusing finger at Rag.

Yarrick looked at Shirl like he’d just done a shit on his chair. ‘She’s the reason you’re still breathing, lad. Wasn’t for her we’d have had to leave you in a ditch to die somewhere.’

That was enough to shut Shirl’s mouth for a while.

Essen went and got some more logs for the fire, and the five of them sat there waiting for morning. Rag’s heart was thumping all the while, wondering what was gonna happen. Wondering if she’d done the right thing. This crew weren’t the cleverest, or even the friendliest, but she didn’t want to see them hurt on her account. Well, not all of them. Every now and again, as the night drew on, she’d see Harkas watching her from the corner of the room. She had no idea what was going on in that head of his, but then she wasn’t too sure she wanted to know neither.

It was close to morning when the door burst open.

Palien wasn’t the first one to walk in. He had men of his own — men who looked a damn sight more frightening than Shirl, Essen and Yarrick. Every one of them looked more like Harkas, though maybe not quite as brutal. They came in, taking their places around the edge of the bar like they already knew where to stand; where the best place was to look all intimidating. Rag counted six of them before Palien walked in, a wolf smile on his face, his hawk eyes glaring straight at her. He pulled a chair across the floor, like he was relishing the scraping noise it made. When he’d slid it as close to Rag as it would go he plonked down on it, his elbows resting on the chair’s backrest.

‘Where is he?’ said Palien, staring straight at her.

‘Who?’ she replied.

Who? Don’t be an idiot, Rag. It’s obvious who he means.

‘Don’t play me for a fool, little girl,’ Palien said. As she looked at him she noticed he never seemed to blink. That wasn’t right, surely. ‘We both know you’re his little pet. He doesn’t go anywhere without you knowing.’

‘I don’t know where he is. He left last night, went off on his own like he does sometimes. We ain’t seen him since, have we?’

She glanced around, relieved when the lads all backed her up with their nodding heads, but it was obvious Palien weren’t interested in their opinion.

‘You expect me to believe that, do you, girl? You think he’d go somewhere without taking his little dolly with him?’

‘He goes off on his own all the ti-’

‘Don’t fucking lie to me!’ Palien stood up, flinging his chair out from under him. ‘Where the fuck is he?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Rag, pressing herself back in her chair but Palien reached forward, grabbed her shirt and pulled her up onto her feet.

‘Tell me where he is or I’ll gut you right here, I swear.’

Rag saw Palien’s eyes glaring down from that face, saw his stupid moustache twitching with anger. Her hands were up as she tried to push him away and he shook her. It was then her hand slipped down to his belt and she could feel the coinpurse at his waist. It was full, secured with a single buckle, and it would be nothing to just open it and take his coin.

‘She don’t know where he is,’ wailed Shirl taking a step forward. ‘None of us do.’

Palien didn’t have to say nothing; one of his men just walked forward and kneed Shirl right in his thigh. The fat man went down with a squeal.

‘Friedrik won’t be happy if you gut me, will he?’ said Rag. ‘You’ll be in for it then.’

‘Not if he’s dead and gone,’ Palien snarled. ‘And I think he is. I think you might be the one that made it happen. I’ve been watching you, girl. Slinking around like the fucking tavern cat. You know something.’

‘I don’t, I don’t-’

‘Yes, you do.’ His shake rattled the teeth in her head. ‘And if you don’t tell me, you won’t leave here alive. None of you will.’

‘All right, I’ll tell,’ she said, desperate. As she looked up, Palien seemed to calm, satisfied he’d done his job.

‘I thought you might,’ he replied, with that wolf’s smile.

‘But I’ll only tell Bastian,’ she said.

Palien shook his head. ‘No, girl, you’ll tell me.’

Rag managed to tear her shirt free of Palien’s grip. She stumbled back and steadied herself against a chair.

‘No, I won’t.’ She stared Palien back in his hawk’s eyes, trying to act more the hunter than the prey. She wasn’t too sure it worked. ‘I’ll tell Bastian or I’ll tell no one.’

‘You’ll tell me or-’

‘Or what? What’s Bastian gonna do when he finds out I’ve got news of Friedrik and you wouldn’t let me tell him? What then?’

‘How’s he going to find out?’

Rag glanced around at the gathered crowd of thugs. ‘You trust everyone here to keep their mouths shut, do you?’

Palien glanced around. At first he fixed every man with a determined stare, but it soon withered and died, only to be replaced with an arrogant raised eyebrow.

‘Let’s go see Bastian, then. I’m sure he’ll want to watch while I cut little pieces off you.’

Palien signalled to his men, who bundled Essen and Yarrick towards the door. Shirl limped after. Two of Palien’s thugs looked at Harkas but neither of them dared lay a finger on him. Rag could see them both breathe out a sigh as the big man followed along obediently.

There was nothing else that Rag could do but go along with them. Once again she was stuck in a spot she couldn’t get out of. Out on the street she kept looking for a way out, seeing darkened alleys she could have scuttled into, yet half of her was determined to see this through to the end.

Palien led the way through Northgate, keener than anyone to see this over with. Rag followed, realising she had no idea where Bastian’s hideout was, and the further they went the more uneasy she became. As they got to the middle of the district she saw something up ahead that made her stomach turn.

Brass railings surrounded a wide-open space that rose up to a dark hill. On top of the hill stood a creepy old tomb. Rag knew instantly what it was — everybody in Steelhaven knew about the Chapel of Ghouls. Word of its horrors had been used to frighten little children for years. Rumour had it that recently there’d been stirrings inside. Whether that was true or not it was still a bloody scary place.

They moved to an alley. Two men stood at the end, guarding some steps that descended to what must have been a sewer judging by the stink. With growing dismay, Rag realised that was where they were going.

The passageway descended deep under the street and a couple of Palien’s boys had to lead the way with torches. Rag could tell they were headed right beneath the Chapel of Ghouls. The deeper they went, the worse the smell. How anyone could stay down here, let alone a rich man like Bastian, she had no idea.

Eventually they came to a big round chamber, damp walls, roots growing down through the roof. There was no fire and the air was chill, blowing in cold from somewhere.

Palien stopped in the middle of the room. He didn’t announce himself, just stood there like he’d rung a bell or something, and was waiting for a servant to come scurrying.

It weren’t no servant that turned up, though.

Bastian’s men were all lean, not the big burly types Palien and Friedrik favoured. Their faces were gaunt, hungry, and they all dressed in the same dark gear and carried blades and axes and shivs of all sorts.

They came out of the shadows like they belonged there, the dark clinging to them like it didn’t want to let go. Rag felt her hands start to shake and she clenched her fists in case she made herself look a twat.

When they were completely surrounded, Bastian walked out of the dark. In the scant light he looked more like a corpse than usual, like he’d just clawed his way out of the dirt. Rag was just glad that his eyes were on Palien, as those two dark sunken pools looked like they could kill all on their own.

‘Well?’ he said.

Rag could see all Palien’s confidence was gone now; his eyes more rabbit than hawk. He drew a finger and thumb over his moustache before he spoke.

‘Friedrik’s gone missing. I was supposed to have a meet with him earlier but he never turned up. No one’s seen him, and this little bitch won’t tell me anything.’ He gestured at Rag. ‘She knows something, but she’ll only tell you.’

Bastian glanced down briefly, casting his cold eyes over Rag like she was shit on his shoe.

‘Yes, she will,’ he said.

Silence then. Bastian weren’t looking at her no more, but Rag knew it was her turn to speak. It was now or never. Time to roll those dice. Time to gamble with her life one more time. Maybe one last time.

‘Friedrik’s been caught,’ she said. ‘He’s been taken by the palace guard.’

Palien looked round at her then. ‘What? Where is he?’

Time to turn it on, Rag. Now or fucking never.

She took a step back, putting that face on and squeezing out those tears like her life depended on it. Which it most likely did.

‘Please, Mister Bastian,’ she said, just like she’d heard a dozen blokes say to Friedrik, just before they lost a finger or an eye. She pointed an accusatory finger at Palien. ‘It was him what did it. It was him what betrayed Mister Friedrik to the guard.’

‘You lying little bitch,’ Palien barked. He took a step forward, and Rag stumbled back, squealing like she was a little girl, like she was terrified — it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

Before Palien could reach her, there was a knife at his throat. One of Bastian’s lean bastards was behind him. Palien stopped cold, like he’d been frozen in time.

‘Go on,’ said Bastian, looking on like none of this mattered a shit.

Rag knew it did matter. She knew either her or Palien was going to die down here in this stinky pit.

‘I followed him. I saw him and Friedrik. I saw him lure Friedrik into the trap and I saw him take payment from them.’ She pointed at Palien’s purse, her eyes wide in fear like it was some bloated spider rather than a fat bag of leather clinging to his hip.

Without a word Bastian glanced at one of his other men, who moved forward and unbuckled the coinpurse from Palien’s belt.

‘She’s fucking lying,’ Palien said. ‘Can’t you see? She’s a fucking liar.’

As he spoke, Bastian’s man poured out the contents of the purse into his hand. He let some of the coins fall through his fingers until he finally found what he was looking for.

‘What’s that?’ said Palien, voice rising in panic as the man handed it to Bastian. ‘What is it?’

Bastian held something up. It glinted in the torchlight, shining like a beacon on a cliff.

‘It’s a little medallion,’ said Bastian. ‘Made of steel, crown and crossed swords on it. Only ever given out by the Skyhelm Sentinels. Very rare and worth a pretty penny on the black market. But then you already knew that, didn’t you, Palien.’

‘No,’ Palien said. ‘It’s not mine.’

‘Is this all they paid you to betray the Guild, or did you get gold too?’

‘No, I swear. It’s not mine.’ His voice was rising with fear now.

‘Then what’s it doing in your purse?’

‘It … It …’ Palien stared at Bastian in panic. There was a tear running down his cheek now. Then his eyes turned to Rag. For a moment they had the hawk in them once more.

Just for a moment.

As he opened his mouth to speak again, most likely to put Rag in the frame, Bastian’s man drew his knife across Palien’s throat. Whatever he was about to say was lost as blood gushed from the wound. He fell to his knees, trying to claw his neck back together.

It seemed to take ages for him to die and Bastian didn’t even stay to see the show.

Rag stayed, though. She watched Palien’s every last breath.