We would use that reluctance to our advantage. With one long, shared glance at Mother Argai, I began to run.
Surali’s men had found a timber baulk somewhere, which they were using to bash at the entrance to the Textile Bourse. Surali herself stood in the freezing rain flanked by two large Street Guildsmen. Her hands were bandaged. I didn’t see any of the Prince of the City’s popinjays here, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t simply switched clothing to turn out as ordinary thugs.
I wanted very badly to run down Surali. That was likely the most strategic thing for us to do, but stopping the rammers was more important in the moment. Pointing with my short knife, I indicated our targets.
Mother Argai nodded. She had a wild look in her eye. Ahead, we had been noticed. The battering ram faltered. Surali began to shriek orders.
“Clear now, or suffer the consequences,” bellowed Mother Argai in Seliu.
Two of the Street Guild thugs dropped their grips on the ram immediately. The other six looked around in confusion, then did the same. Their baulk clattered down the chipped, stained marble steps.
Again I was putting my life at swordspoint for those fools on the Interim Council.
Then we slammed into our enemies, everyone’s feet slipping on the icy steps.
Mother Argai bowled right into the two of Surali’s men closest to the bottom of the steps. One caught her sword in the upper thigh, the other took her shoulder in his gut. His parry nearly blocked her, but snagged only leather before he tumbled into the much-abused rosebushes beyond.
As the first pair fell, I leapt up two steps higher. I cleared that even with the heaviness of the baby in my belly. Three blades were rising to meet me. Those I could handle. I danced close inside one’s guard, using his arm and shoulder as a temporary shield, and boxed his ear hard with my short knife, reversed. The long knife I slid along his side, just above the crest of bone at the front of the hip.
He shrieked at the pain.
I used my momentum to turn my captive so his back was to his fellows. They obligingly stabbed the unfortunate in the shoulder and neck. My long knife snaked out to jab one shin-these fighters were not armored, as few Selistani ever were. That one yelled and jumped back to leave the other’s flank open for Mother Argai to swarm past my shield.
She stabbed him straight up beneath the chin with a shorter blade, slamming his head back in a spray of blood. The weapon stuck there. Mother Argai released the man to tumble into the bushes as well, taking her knife with him.
Four left, but our momentum was spent and they had the advantage of height. I dodged a downswing to hiss Street! to Mother Argai.
She grunted, and we both jumped backwards.
That’s a difficult move at the best. Much harder on icy, blood-slicked steps, and damned near impossible with a baby in your belly. Mother Argai landed on her feet, spun to check the position of Surali’s guards, then finished her spin facing our remaining opponents. I bounced on my heels and went over hard to crack my head solidly on the cobbled pavers of Lyme Street.
For a long, slow moment, I saw only glowing red spots. Someone shouted. A foot caught me in the side. Reflexively my left hand went up, short knife clutched tight. I realized Mother Argai had jumped over me. She nearly stumbled in doing so. Another foot presented itself-not hers-so I focused my attention sufficiently to slash the muscles and tendons at the back of the calf.
The man came down weapon-first. I rolled away, but nothing quite worked. My chest and midsection were pinned beneath an angry attacker who pulled himself up for a clean stroke. He was crushing my baby. My left hand was free to stab him again in the right side, which distracted his focus sufficiently for me to push him off. I rose drunkenly to my feet and put a boot into his groin as hard as I could.
That would keep him down.
Mother Argai was at swordspoint with two others. The fourth man was on the ground, scrambling uselessly to find the rest of his fingers. Swaying, I stepped close behind her opponents and tried to stab. I succeeded only in falling over.
Something clanged loudly near me as I got back to my hands and knees. A large brass vessel rolled away. A wet grunt told me that someone connected with a weapon just then, but I still couldn’t quite focus. Another clang sent one of the Street Guildsmen collapsing. He’d been hit in the head by a blue ceramic flowerpot.
The last one broke and ran. I rolled to my side and watched him follow the other two down Lyme Street, Surali racing before all three of them.
“Green.” Mother Argai squatted beside me, touching my head.
“Hello,” I said. My voice sounded dreamy, even to myself. I was very cold.
“Can you stand?”
She did not sound dreamy. “Oh, certainly.” I struggled to my feet, and nearly tumbled again except for Mother Argai’s vise grip on my arm.
“I suppose I should thank you,” said a familiar voice in Petraean. I looked up to see Mr. Nast at the top steps.
“Hello, sir.” I waved a bloody knife at him.
“We must go, now,” Mother Argai whispered urgently in Seliu.
“I expect there will be more of Councilor Lampet’s Conciliar Guard here shortly.” Nast looked down his nose at Mother Argai, then turned his attention back to me. “You might prefer their attentions at a later time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nast.” I waved again, then turned to Mother Argai. “We must go now,” I announced to her, proudly.
“Where?”
“Inside!” In that addled moment, the Textile Bourse seemed safe to me. Tugging her behind me, I mounted the steps.
Nast appeared startled, the most emotion I’d ever seen from him, but he did not flinch. “Where are you heading?”
“Council chambers,” I told him, then realized I’d spoken in Seliu. I tried again in Petraean. My head was clearing fast, but not fast enough. “Council chambers. I’ll speak to Jeschonek there.”
The head clerk looked as if he had some comment in mind, then shook his head and stepped back. “Inside, then, before they start counting bodies.” As I passed him, he asked quietly, “Should the fallen live to be questioned?”
Is he intending to slit their throats? That thought cleared my mind somewhat further. Shaking off some of the melting slush that still clung to me, I asked, “How much trouble do you wish for?”
Nast nodded. “Upstairs, then.”
Inside, the clerks and their assistants cleared out of our path like rabbits before a wolf. Wolves, in truth. Mother Argai, still clutching my arm, swore and put away her sword. As we wove among the desks and stacked files, she pried my weapons out of my unsteady hand.
By the time we mounted the steps, I was coming further back to myself, and wondering what the hells I had just done.
“Why didn’t we depart?” I growled in Seliu, sheathing the knives as she returned them to me.
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” replied Mother Argai.
Someone at the top of the stairs whispered, “Thank you,” before darting out of our way. Behind us, shouting arose.
“Down the hall, now,” said another young clerk. We were hustled into the Interim Council’s meeting room. I flopped into Jeschonek’s seat and found myself bleeding on his leather. Mother Argai sat in Lampet’s chair.
“What now?” she asked in Seliu.
“We find out what that was all about,” I said heavily. “Because I cannot imagine what Surali intended with such an attack. That was not enough men to overturn the Interim Council, but it was too many for a social call.”
“Social call with battering ram.”
We fell silent for a few moments, resting our shaking muscles. The surging tension of a fight takes time to wear off. After a little while I rose to my feet and saw to Mother Argai’s hurts. She had taken two stab wounds in her thigh, which I bound by slicing up a priceless Hanchu brocaded silk runner from the sideboard where the Interim Council kept their wine and a bowl of withered pears. The rest of the silk I portioned out for us to clean our weapons with. Otherwise she had the usual assortment of bruises, cuts, scrapes, and aching joints.