She let it happen. Once you’re falling, you can’t fight it. There’s an urge to flail and struggle but the air won’t help you. No one will. No one ever will, in her experience.
With a teeth-rattling thud she dropped straight into the wagon of fleeces she’d paid Jens to leave under the window. He looked suitably amazed to see her floundering out from his cargo, dragging the satchel after her and scurrying across the street, weaving between the people and into the darkness between the ale-shop and the ostler’s, the shouting fading behind her.
She reeled against the wall, gripping at her side, growling with each breath and trying not to cry out. Rim of the cart had caught her in the ribs and from the sick pain and the way her head was spinning she reckoned at least one was broken, probably a few more.
‘Fucking ouch,’ she forced through gritted teeth. She glanced back towards the building as Jens shouted to his mule and the wagon rolled off, a guard leaning out of the open window, pointing wildly across the street towards her. She saw someone slip out of a side door and gently push it closed. Someone tall, and slim, a strand of blonde hair falling from a black hat and a satchel over her shoulder. Someone with a hell of a walk, hips swaying as she drifted quietly into the shadows.
The guard roared something and Shev turned, stumbled on down the alley, squeezed through the little crack in the wall and away.
Now she remembered why she’d wanted to stop and run a Smoke House instead.
Most thieves don’t last long. Not even the good ones.
‘You’re hurt,’ said Severard.
Shev really was hurt, but she’d learned to keep her hurts as hidden as she could. In her experience, people were like sharks, blood in the water only made them hungry. So she shook her head, tried to smile, tried to look not-hurt with her face twisted up and sweaty and her hand clamped to her ribs. ‘It’s nothing. We got customers?’
‘Just Berrick.’
He nodded towards the old husk-head, sprawled out on the greasy cushions with eyes closed and mouth open, spent pipe beside him.
‘When did he smoke?’
‘Couple of hours past.’
Shev gripped her side tight as she knelt beside him, touched him gently on the cheek. ‘Berrick? Best wake up, now.’
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Shev, and his lined face suddenly crushed up. ‘She’s dead,’ he whispered. ‘Keep remembering it fresh. She’s dead.’ And he closed his eyes and squeezed tears down his pale cheeks.
‘I know,’ said Shev. ‘I know and I’m sorry. I’d usually let you stay long as you need, and I hate to do this, but you got to get up, Berrick. Might be trouble. You can come back later. See him home, eh, Severard?’
‘I should stay here, I can watch your back-’
More likely he’d do something stupid and get the pair of them killed. ‘I been watching my own back long as I can remember. Go feed your birds.’
‘Fed ’em already.’
‘Feed ’em again, then. Just promise me you’ll stay out till Crandall’s come and gone.’
Severard worked his spotty jaw, sullen. Shit, the boy really was in love with her. ‘I promise.’ And he slipped an arm under Berrick’s and helped him stagger out of the door. Two less little worries, but still the big one to negotiate. Shev stared about, wondering how she could be ready for Crandall’s visit. Routes of escape, hidden weapons, backup plans in case something went wrong.
The coals they used to light the pipes were smouldering away in the tin bowl on their stand. Shev picked up the water jug, thinking to douse them, then reckoned maybe she could fling them in someone’s face if she had to and moved the stand back against the wall in easy reach instead, coals sliding and popping as she set it down.
‘Evening, Shev.’ She spun about, trying not to wince at the stab of pain in her side. For a big, big man, Mason sure had a light tread when he felt the need.
Crandall ducked into the Smoke House, looking even more sour than usual. She watched two of his thugs crowd in behind him. Big-Coat with his big coat on and Hands-in-Pockets with his hands still stuffed in his pockets.
The door to the yard creaked open and Pock-Face sidled through and shouldered it shut. So much for the escape route. Shev swallowed. Just say as little as possible, do nothing to rile them and get them out quick as she could. That was the trick to it.
‘Black suits you,’ said Mason, looking her up and down.
‘That’s why I wear it,’ she said, trying to come across relaxed but only managing queasy. ‘That and the thieving.’
‘Got it?’ snapped Crandall.
Shev slipped the satchel from under the counter and tossed it to him, strap flapping.
‘Good girl,’ he said as he caught it. ‘Did you open it?’
‘None of my business.’
Crandall pulled the satchel open. He poked around inside. He looked up at her with far from the satisfied-customer expression she’d been hoping for. ‘This a fucking joke?’
‘Why would it be?’
‘It’s not here.’
‘What’s not?’
‘What was supposed to be in here!’ Crandall shook the satchel at her and the frowns his men wore grew a little bit harder.
Shev swallowed again, a sinking feeling in her gut like she was standing at a cliff edge and could feel the earth crumbling at her feet. ‘You didn’t say there’d be anything in it. You didn’t say there’d be some champion screamer in the room, either. You said get the satchel, and I got it!’
Crandall flung the empty satchel on the floor. ‘Thought you’d fucking sell it to someone else, didn’t you?’
‘What? I don’t even know what it is! And if I’d screwed you I wouldn’t be standing here waiting with nothing but a smile, would I?’
‘Take me for a fool, do you? Think I didn’t see Carcolf leaving here earlier?’
‘Carcolf? She just came cause she had a job … in Talins …’ Shev trailed off with that same feeling she’d felt when her hands slipped from Varini’s and she’d seen the ground flying up to greet her. Crandall’s men shifted, Pock-Face pulling a jagged-edged knife out, and Mason gave a grimace even bigger’n usual, and slowly shook his head.
Oh, God. Carcolf had finally fucked her. But not in a good way. Not in a good way at all.
Shev held her hands up, calming, trying to give herself time to think of something. ‘Look! You said get the satchel and I got it.’ She hated the whine in her voice. Knew there was no point begging but couldn’t help herself. Looked to the doors, the thugs slowly closing on her, knew the only question left was how bad they’d hurt her. Crandall stepped towards her, face twisting.
‘Look!’ she screeched, and he punched her in the side. Far from the hardest punch she’d ever taken, but as bad luck had it his fist landed right where the wagon had, there was a flash of pain through her guts and straight away she doubled up and puked all down his trousers.
‘Oh, that’s it, you fucking little bitch! Hold her.’
The one with the pocked face caught her left arm, and the one with the stupid coat her right, and stuck his forearm in her throat and pinned her against the wall, both of them grinning like it was a while since they’d had so much fun. Shev could’ve been enjoying herself more as Pock-Face waved his knife in her face, her mouth acrid with sick and her side on fire and her eyes crossed as she stared at the bright point.
Crandall snapped his fingers at Mason. ‘Give me your axe.’
Mason puffed his cheeks out. ‘More’n likely it’s that bitch Carcolf behind all this. Nothing Shevedieh could’ve done. We kill her she can’t help us find what we’re after, eh?’
‘It’s past business now,’ said Crandall, the little rat-faced nothing, ‘and on to teaching a lesson.’
‘What lesson will this teach? And to who?’