Ruby nodded. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
“I thought that might be the case. You don’t mind disobeying Roman?”
“In this situation, fuck Roman.” Ruby checked her knot, then double checked it. She stood, pulling her bow off her shoulder and checking the string wasn’t frayed. “All right. We’re ready.”
“I’m not.”
Ruby tapped her foot impatiently.
“Have some patience.” Caleb drew a deep puff and blew out a smoke ring. “This might be my last cigarette. I reckon I might as well savour it.”
“Well how about sharing that savouring?”
Caleb offered the cigarette to Ruby. “As long you promise to appreciate it properly.”
“I swear.”
The bitter taste of rado-weed bit at Ruby’s throat. She didn’t hate the flavour as she knew Roman did, but she couldn’t deny it tasted like shit. Regardless, she took a second puff before returning it. “Thanks.”
Caleb shrugged, offering his usual grunt.
“But really,” she continued, “thanks for… all of this.”
“Don’t have to thank me. I’m not doing this for you.”
“I know, but still…” Ruby paused, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. She felt she needed to say something meaningful. In case they both died. But no inspiration came to her, so she settled with saying, “You’re a good man, Caleb.”
He shook his head. “You know what I’ve always admired about you? You’re honest.” He finished the cigarette and squashed it beneath his boot. “So don’t ruin my good opinion of you by bullshitting me now. We both know that I’m as much of an asshole as anyone else in this city. Even more of one, really. I’m just, for once in my life, pretending not to be.”
“Well, that’s… good enough.”
He shrugged again. “I’m sorry Ruby, I’m not really one for deep words. I’ve had my smoke. Now I’m ready to kill some bastards. Shall we get this started.”
“I guess so.”
“Ladies first.”
Ruby moved to the window that had the best view of the square and drew her first arrow. She chose her target: a mercenary, holding an axe in each hand. She nocked the arrow, took a slow breath, and pulled the bowstring back.
True to her word, she didn’t miss.
40
Roman heard the first scream, quickly followed by panicked shouts. It was time.
He sat in the gutter, Candle beside him, both doing their best to look like beggars as the last of the morning traffic moved past. No one had offered them anything so far, and, now that everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on getting as far away from the screaming as possible, Roman didn’t think that was going to change.
He watched the dozen militia who guarded the end of the street. After a brief discussion, most of the militia ran into the square, leaving just four men blocking Roman’s path to the Security Ministry.
“You ready?” he muttered to Candle.
Candle rolled up the sleeve and held out his forearm. “Do it.”
Roman reached into his coat and pulled out the activation needle — the one he had taken from Candle after their fight — and jabbed it into Candle’s wrist.
Candle grinned as the first pulse of blue light shone through his shirt. He quickly used his coat to cover it. Standing, he looked ready to charge towards the Ministry.
“Wait.” Roman stepped in front of Candle, warily watching the militia in their way. Two of them had crossbows — Roman didn’t like the idea of being shot down before they even got close. “I’ll go first.”
Candle shrugged. “Be my guest.”
“I’ll get their attention. You follow behind, keep your head down and pretend to be a curious beggar.”
“Getting their attention sounds a lot like getting an arrow through your neck. You have a plan for that?”
“Half of one.”
Roman moved to the centre of the road and raised his arms in surrender.
He casually strolled forward, letting the entire streets attention shift to him. Ahead, one militia cried out in alarm and raised his crossbow, but another stepped forward and motioned for him not to fire. Roman let out a quick sigh of relief, not faltering in his stride. The militia waited for him.
Vendors, shoppers, and beggars hastily made a path for Roman, stopping their efforts to flee from Reformation Square just long to rush to the footpath and cower until he passed, as if the militia would shoot anyone standing too close to him. They were too distracted to notice Candle slipping amongst them.
As he approached, Roman recognized the militia in charge. Regan. The militia’s pudgy face curled into a wide grin as he levelled his crossbow at Roman’s chest. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show your face, but the Captain was right.”
Roman stopped five yards away. “I would say how glad I am to see you’re still alive, but, truth be told, I am deeply disappointed you still have all your limbs attached.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Roman?” Regan demanded.
“Surrendering. I thought that was obvious.”
Regan glanced behind him towards Reformation Square. Already half a dozen militia were on the ground with arrows through them — some were still screaming, most were already dead — while the rest were charging towards the opposite corner of the square.
Roman grinned. “Ruby, on the other hand, is not surrendering.”
Regan looked confused about what to do in this situation. He settled on tightening the grip on his crossbow and scowling more. “So why shouldn’t I shoot you now?”
“Because we both know that I’ve captured Candle, and that Juliette wants him. That gives me leverage over her.”
“If you’ve got him, then where the hell is he?”
Roman pointed. “Right there.”
The militia all turned to the side, just in time to see Candle pick up a table — it had been abandoned by a vendor, whose collection of rusted blades now clattered to the ground — and swing it over his head and onto the closest militia. The wood snapped in half, splintering, as the man beneath it crumpled. In a blur of motion, Candle darted to the next militia, grabbed his head with both hands and snapped his neck.
Regan still had his crossbow aimed at Roman. He fired. The bolt glanced Roman’s shoulder as he sprinted forward and seized Regan by the front of his amour. Roman’s other hand reached over the militia’s shoulder, pulled a bolt out of his quiver, and stabbed it through the back of Regan’s neck. Regan gurgled blood, eyes wide with disbelief. His body went limp and Roman let him drop to the ground.
The last militia fled. Candle set chase. Roman reached into his coat for his gun, but by the time he pulled it out, Candle had already closed the gap on his target. He had picked up a knife and now used it to slit the militia’s throat.
Roman hands were shaking with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He turned towards the Security Ministry and—
Oh… shit.
A militia had stepped around the corner of the building. His gaze swept over the carnage, finally settling on Candle. He raised the pistol he was holding.
Candle was distracted, looking at the militia who were still charging towards Ruby. He didn’t see the militia taking aim at his chest.
Roman didn’t have time to shout a warning. He lifted his own gun and fired. A headshot — the militia died before his body hit the pavement.
Candle spun around, first looking at Roman, then to the corpse. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Roman’s gaze moved past Candle to the militia and mercenaries on the opposite corner of the square, over a dozen of whom had obviously heard the gunshot. Roman could tell because they were now sprinting back towards him and Candle. “We might have just distracted them away from our previous distraction.”