The Shattered Crown

FORTY-NINE

They sat around the fire, all five of them just watching the flames, listening to the wood crackling in the hearth. None of them knew what to do. There was no one to order them around now that Friedrik had gone, so they just sat and waited.

You should be running, not waiting. You should be on your way and not bothering to look back. You’ve ridden your luck enough for a hundred lifetimes and you’re not yet thirteen winters.

Rag didn’t run, though.

‘Do you think they’re gonna kill us?’ Shirl asked in a little voice, saying what they were all thinking.

Rag shook her head. ‘Don’t be soft,’ she replied. ‘If Bastian wanted us dead we’d be corpses already.

That seemed to calm Shirl a bit, and she saw Yarrick glance at Essen looking a bit relieved. Of course she had no idea whether it was true or not. It would be just like Bastian to let them stew in their own fear for a bit, heating up their terror until it reached boiling, and then kill them anyway. She had no idea if they were going to die tonight or not. No point sharing that though, was there. The lads were already in a hole — no point digging them deeper into it.

Rag glanced over at Harkas, sitting instead of standing like he usually did, hardly visible, in the shadows. She could feel him watching though, staring from the dark, his eyes always on her.

He knows. He’s worked out who it was that betrayed Friedrik, and when Bastian comes to kill us all, that’s what he’ll use to bargain for his life.

But did he know? If he knew, why hadn’t he said anything when Palien was having his throat slit? Why didn’t he speak up and tell Bastian then?

Rag sat back in her chair, trying to stay out of his eyeline. She guessed she might never know; Harkas wasn’t much for sharing. Whatever his intentions, she kept her eye on the door that led out of the place, just in case. First sign of trouble she’d be through it and away.

But you won’t, will you? Even if you had the chance you ain’t got nowhere to go.

After Palien had bled out through his neck and his body’d been left to drop to the floor she’d still thought they were all done for. Rag wouldn’t have put it past Bastian to rid himself of all five of them without giving it a second thought, but he hadn’t. He’d just told them all to be on their way.

So here they were, with nowhere else to go. They sat in the tavern, waiting for gods knew what, while the wood pile slowly went down.

Rag had no idea how long they’d been sitting there. Shirl’s head kept nodding as he fought off sleep. Essen had wrapped himself in a blanket as the chill of the night crept into the bar and filled the shadows with cold.

None of them heard Bastian’s lads enter.

They were the same lean bastards as had killed Palien and they filled the little bar in silence, standing in the shadows, lurking like ghouls waiting to reach out from the dark and take a victim. When Rag saw them her eyes went wide with the fear. None of the other lads noticed until the door swung wide, banging against the wall, and Bastian himself walked in.

Rag stared at his face. At those gaunt, skeletal features. The Lord of Crows himself, come to take them to the hells.

Bastian just stood there and all five of them stared back, not sure what to do. It would have been a fucking stupid thing to speak — no one was going to risk interrupting Bastian.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said finally, like he was carrying on a conversation from a moment before. ‘It did cross my mind to have you all offed. You’re not the best bunch the Guild has got, after all. But then Friedrik must have kept you around for something: perhaps your loyalty. Loyalty’s worth a lot in these trying times. You did let him get captured, but then that was down to Palien, so I can’t really blame any of you.’

He looked straight at Rag then, those eyes boring into her like a weevil in her flesh. Then he smiled slightly. It looked odd on his cruel face and it made Rag’s skin go all tingly with the creeps.

‘About Friedrik, by the way,’ he said, the fire dancing off his sharp features giving him a daemonic look. ‘Apparently he’s been executed. So we won’t be seeing him again. Consequently, all responsibilities for running this outfit pass to me. I’ve asked around and no one has a problem with that. I assume none of you do?’ Rag didn’t move, but she could see Shirl, Yarrick and Essen shaking their heads in the dark. ‘Good. Then we can move on.’

One of those lean shadowy bastards brought a chair forward and Bastian sat in it, crossing his legs and straightening his black undertaker’s jacket.

‘War is coming.’

Bastian let his words hang in the air.

‘We … we know, Mister Bastian,’ said Shirl.

Typical Shirl — never could keep his bloody mouth shut.

‘You’ve probably been wondering what your contribution will be to the war effort,’ said Bastian.

Shirl glanced at the other lads. ‘Actually … erm … no.’

‘No,’ said Bastian mirthlessly. ‘Of course you fucking haven’t. You were more than likely wondering how you’re going to avoid the fighting and survive when the Khurtas come knocking.’ The lads nodded. ‘Well, I’m here to tell you. The Guild has been made an offer. One that will see us survive this whole shitty mess. Obviously there will be things to do in the coming days, but I won’t entrust the important work to a bunch of useless fuckers like you. However, I’ll need all the men I can get, so be ready. I’ll have word sent to you when the time is right, so don’t go far.’

His last three words were spoken like they were all a bunch of halfwits.

‘No, Mister Bastian,’ said Shirl, Essen and Yarrick in unison.

‘Good.’ Bastian stood up, his men already moving towards the door. ‘You.’ He pointed at Rag. ‘Show me out.’

Show him out? Did he not know where the bloody door was?

She stood and walked beside him. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps she was the one would be getting it. The one with her throat slit as an example to the other lads not to fuck about. But as they went into the little back room that led out on the street, Bastian stopped beside her.

He looked down and laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know the rest of your crew hasn’t got the brains of a dray horse between them. That’s why I’ll be relying on you to hold them together.’

‘Yes, Mister Bastian,’ she said without thinking, just grateful he wasn’t going to kill her.

‘There’ll be a chance for you to prove yourself in the coming days. Friedrik always surrounded himself with fucking idiots — that was his way. He was arrogant you see, thought he was untouchable, that his reputation would protect him, but it’s clear he was wrong about that. Still, he seemed to think you were different.’ He gestured to the men around him. ‘Now, as you can see — I don’t surround myself with idiots. And after this whole Palien business I’m beginning to see what it was Friedrik saw in you. You’re clever. There’s potential in you, girl. You could go far.’

‘Yes, Mister Bastian,’ she repeated. ‘Thank you.’

She resisted the temptation to add a ‘sir’ to the end of that. She didn’t want to seem too much of an arse licker, after all.

Bastian nodded and followed his men out onto the street. The last of them closed the door behind him, shutting out the chill of night. Rag just stood there, thinking a while.

She could go far?

What the fuck did that mean? Was he grooming her for big things?

Inside she should have been jumping for joy, but all she felt was sick. It seemed that no sooner had she got past one trial she was jumping straight into another. He’d just put her in charge of this crew. Just promoted her. And all she’d had to do was tell a few lies and get a couple of people killed.

Rag wasn’t even sure how she felt about it. There certainly weren’t no guilt. The emptiness inside at learning she’d done for a couple of fellas gave her a bit of a fright.

Can’t do anything about it now though, can you? May as well just get on with things — play the hand you’re dealt.

She turned to head back into the bar and stopped. Harkas was just standing there. It was just the two of them, alone in that back room. She looked up, trying to give him that same smile she’d given him a few days ago. This time she couldn’t muster it.

‘I’ve been watching you,’ he said.

She’d never heard him speak before. His voice was pretty normal for someone so big.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, playing all innocent, though it was clear there was no point in that now.

‘No one else sees it,’ he replied. ‘But I do. They’re all too busy talking, too busy with their own thoughts and words to look. But I stand there all quiet and I listen. And I watch.’

‘Good for you,’ said Rag, as panic welled up inside. The door was right behind her. Should she try to run? But she’d never make it before he grabbed her.

‘I could tell you were trouble right from that first day. I don’t know what Friedrik was thinking, but it’s too late now.’

‘Look,’ she said feigning annoyance in the hope it would put him off. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about and I don’t really care. Bastian just told me to make sure you lot stayed in line and that’s what I’m gonna do. If you’ve got a problem with it, see him.’

She hoped that would put him off; that the mention of Bastian’s name might bring him to heel a bit. It didn’t.

‘Yeah, I bet he did,’ said Harkas, bending low so he was at eye level. ‘People like you, don’t they?’

‘Yeah,’ said Rag, not too sure where this was going. ‘I suppose they do.’

‘I like you,’ said Harkas, and Rag almost sighed with relief. ‘You look out for your mates. What you did for Shirl … well … I won’t forget that. And you’re clever — more clever than Friedrik was. But then I suppose that’s why you’re alive and he’s dead.’

‘Yeah,’ Rag said, feeling more uncomfortable now than when she thought he was going to kill her. ‘I suppose it could be.’

With that Harkas turned and walked back into the bar.

He left the door open, and Rag could see in to the rest of the lads sitting by the fire. Would they accept her as leader? Would they do as she said?

Only one way to find out, she supposed, and walked back into the warmth of the tavern.