People shifted, moving clear of the coming violence, opening a straight path from the Kettral to the lone woman on the stairs, an empty avenue, as though for some emperor’s procession. The frightened woman held her ground. Which meant she was either very stupid, or had an end beyond simple taunting in mind.
“I hope you’re pleased, Qora,” said the Kettral leader, drawling the long first syllable of her name. “People died here because of you.” The tone was casual, almost lazy, but Gwenna saw the man shift. She caught a whiff, below all the smoke and sweat, of the sudden eagerness pouring off him.
Qora shook her head grimly. “I don’t remember setting any fires.”
“You should have realized when you chose to use civilians as shields that shields get battered. They get broken.”
Qora’s face tightened. “No one’s fooled, Henk. They see who’s doing the breaking, and for what. People know a tyrant when they see one.”
“And do they also know a coward who hides behind children?”
She spread her hands. “I’m not hiding now. If you want me, here I am.”
So-a trap. Obviously.
Gwenna glanced over the square again, evaluating the angles and approaches. The woman-Qora-was trying to draw the Kettral south, off their dock. Into what? There were a few good spots to plant charges, but charges wouldn’t discriminate between attackers and civilians. Not necessarily a problem, but this woman seemed keen on the distinction.
A sniper then.
Qora knew that the men on the dock would have someone covering them, maybe several someones. She was clearly hoping that her appearance on the steps would lure those someones out, that the hidden Kettral with the bows-wherever they were-would get into position to take a shot at her. There was one obvious choice. Gwenna looked back down that street to the east, the open flank on Qora’s right. If there were Kettral hidden in the alleys, that’s where they’d move to take their shot. Which meant that if Qora was setting a trap, she’d have someone waiting down that very alley, someone ready to hamstring the sniper right … there.
Qora’s companion was tucked back into a shadowy doorway, but his blade was drawn. A smoke steel blade. As traps went, it was clumsy, obvious-Gwenna had run through the whole thing in a few heartbeats-but you had to admire the woman on the steps for playing bait, facing down five Kettral and a bird in the hope of flushing one or two of her foes into the alley. You had to admire her, and you had to do it fast, because she was about to get all kinds of killed.
Two bowmen-the Kettral snipers Gwenna had known would be there-stepped into the long alley forty paces back. Gwenna waited for the man with the sword, Qora’s hidden companion, to spring the trap. He didn’t. Instead of leaping from the shadows, he froze in place. The snipers, advancing down the alley with their bows half drawn, didn’t notice him, and as they approached, stalking forward, eager for their prey, the lone man melted back into the shadows, disappeared.
“’Shael’s shit on a stick,” Gwenna muttered, turning to signal to Annick.
Before she’d dropped her hand, Annick’s arrows were in the air. A moment later, the snipers in the alley collapsed. Of Qora’s cowardly companion, there was no sign. Gwenna scanned the crowd slowly, loosening her focus, ignoring the individual faces, searching for unexpected movement in the mass of people. Where there were two snipers, there could well be another.
It only took a few heartbeats to find what she was looking for. A dozen paces back, emerging from a side street-two men moving against the drift of the larger current, pressing toward the woman on the steps when everyone else was trying to get clear. A third was coming in from yet another angle, all of them moving slowly, but with more purpose than the situation seemed to require. None carried bows, but you didn’t need a bow to kill a woman, not if you got close enough-and they were definitely closing.
“Well, fuck,” Gwenna said, more loudly than she’d intended.
She eased her belt knife in its sheath, eyes still roving over the scene.
The Kettral on the dock didn’t move, but they had more than three accomplices seeded through the crowd, she realized. Four, five, six … Gwenna had figured on one extra Wing scattered about the square, but there were at least two, both of them clearly intended to cover the main act out on the dock, both now converging on the woman on the steps. Qora didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she was stealing glances up the side street toward where her companion had disappeared, slipping away while their shitty plan tore apart at the seams.
Briefly, Gwenna considered letting the woman die. It hardly made sense to start putting knives in people until she’d sorted out who, exactly, was who, who needed killing and who just needed a swift kick in the ass. On the other hand, the basic contours were clear enough-the men with the birds were burning buildings to try to get at the others, the rebels. Qora was a rebel. Hull only knew how many more rebels there were, or where they were hiding; both pieces of information seemed useful.
“Well, fuck,” Gwenna said again, sliding her knife between the ribs of the first Kettral as he passed.
The man’s eyes widened, but pain stole his breath. He reached briefly, weakly, for the blade, fingers dumb and fumbling. Gwenna wrapped an arm around his waist, as though he were a friend with too much to drink-she’d learned that trick from a Skullsworn assassin a whole continent away in what seemed like another life-then lowered him gently to the stones. She hadn’t given Annick another signal, or Talal, but how much of a ’Kent-kissing signal did you need? It ought to be pretty clear that it was time to start killing people.
When she straightened up, she saw they’d followed her play. One of the other Kettral was folding slowly over, grasping at an arrow in his chest. Then a second stumbled, coughing up blood. More were coming, though, and Annick didn’t have angles on all of them.
“Qora,” Gwenna called, trying to get the attention of the woman on the steps without alerting the entire square. “Qora.”
Qora looked down. Her eyes were wide and baffled, ablaze with the still-burning fire to the west, hot with her own fear and rage. Gwenna motioned her toward the nearest street.
“Time to go.”
The woman’s only move was to lower her sword at Gwenna, an unfortunate gesture that drew every eye in the crowd. Another Kettral, just a few feet away and closing, turned to stare at Gwenna. When he saw the bloody knife in her hand, he drew a sword from beneath his cloak.
Gwenna shook her head. “I’m on your side, you asshole,” she hissed to the man.
He hesitated, glanced back up at Qora, who was staring down at both of them. Gwenna stepped in and cut his throat. People were starting to shout, to scream. Behind her, on the docks, the men with the bird were moving. Things were ugly and about to get a whole lot uglier.
“I wasn’t really on his side,” Gwenna growled, meeting Qora’s eye. “And it really is time to go. Now. The crowd’s seeded with them.”
Qora shook her head, took half a step back toward the doorway behind her. “Who are you?”
“Look, bitch,” Gwenna snapped, losing her patience. Off to her right, a man began to charge. Annick’s arrow took him in the eye. “You’re spunky, but you’re stupid. Now get off the fucking stairs and let’s go.” She stabbed a finger down the nearest street. “That way.”
Just behind Gwenna a woman started screaming, pain mingled with panic. She was just one of the baffled folks who had stumbled outside in the middle of the night to see half her town burn. She had nothing to do with the unfolding fight, but the sound seemed to jolt Qora from her confusion, and she vaulted off the stone steps, finally showing a touch of the competence Gwenna had hoped for.