‘What’s in the bag?’ asked Tidge as Rag wiped Migs’ clammy forehead.
‘Have a look,’ she replied.
As she wondered what to do about Migs, the other two rummaged through the sack, finding the lukewarm pie and the bread she’d brought. There was a small bottle of ale too, but the lads were too busy crowing over the food to notice it.
‘Make sure it’s shared equal,’ Rag said, as she fished around in her shirt pocket. Her hand rested on a gold crown — the only money she had left — and for a second she wondered if now was the time to use it.
What are you gonna keep it for? It’s not like you’ve got expensive taste in frigging clothes, is it? Migs is in need. Do the right thing.
She turned to see Chirpy and Tidge already with full cheeks. For a moment she could have scolded them for their greed, but she’d been the wrong side of starving enough times herself, and knew all too well how it made you forget your manners. Not that these two little buggers had any manners in the first place.
‘Listen, and listen good,’ she said. ‘Migs needs medicine, and you’re to get it for him, understood?’ Before either of the lads could protest she held up the gold crown. Both of them gazed at it as though it were all the gold in Queen Janessa’s treasury. ‘This’ll be enough. Don’t let the apothecary scam you. Just tell him Migs has a fever and you’re willing to pay for anything what cures him.’
Chirpy nodded, but Tidge was still staring at that gold crown. Rag thought it best if she let Chirpy take charge of it, and flicked it to him. He snatched it from the air and had it away up his sleeve in a heartbeat.
‘You’re not back to stay then?’ Tidge asked.
‘No, I’m not,’ she replied, and felt an unexpected twinge of regret at the words.
‘You just left without a word. Didn’t even say goodbye.’
‘I know,’ Rag said. ‘But there were things I had to do. Things I had to take care of alone. I thought Fender would be looking out for you, but it looks like he lied about that.’ And not for the first time.
‘We can take care of ourselves,’ said Chirpy.
Rag glanced around the little shack that looked more rotten than ever.
‘Yeah, it looks like it.’
They just sat then, nothing more to say. The lads kept eating — had most of the pie and bread. Rag was pleased when she didn’t need to remind them to save a portion for Migs. When they’d finished she stood up, gave them each a nod, and made her way out of the shack.
‘You coming back?’ asked Chirpy, as she made her way over the roof and towards the stairs.
Well, are you? Will you even bother to come back and see if Migs is okay? There’s a tough winter coming, and worse if the Khurtas get through that wall. Are you gonna come check on them, or are you just gonna look to yourself?
‘Aye, I’ll be back,’ she replied, not looking over her shoulder. Not wanting Chirpy to see the same lie on her face as he heard from her lips.
How could she promise to come back? She already had enough to deal with. Hells, she might not even be alive tomorrow.
Maybe you should have told the truth. Maybe you should have let them know they ain’t going to see you again. That you only came out of guilt and it hasn’t made you feel no better.
But she couldn’t do that neither. She was just a coward and she knew it. Only bothered about herself. She’d spent years looking after a crew of lads and look where it had got her — screaming for help on a rooftop while one of them bled his last out through a hole in his throat.
They were better off without her. Better off fending for themselves than getting mixed up with Rag and her shit. And it was shit all right — following her round wherever she went, stinking her up good and proper.
Who are you trying to kid? Don’t try to pretend you’re protecting them. You’re running away, just like last time.
Rag stopped at the end of Slip Street and took a glance back. If she never saw this place again it would be too soon. Saying that, what waited for her elsewhere might not be much better.
As she made her way through the streets towards Northgate, Rag began to get that heavy feeling in her stomach. If Slip Street had held daemons for her, there was a tavern somewhere on her route that held trouble ten times worse, and no mistake.
She’d let that man Nobul go free. What kind of payback would there be for that? Would Friedrik know it was Rag what let him out? Would he be waiting with something sharp and pointy just for her?
Only one way to find out.
The thought of running away crossed her mind, though it was only fleeting. She’d learned how to survive in this city, and that was all she knew. How would she live outside it? Find a job in some backwater village? Get work on the land?
Rag the farmer? Do me a fucking favour.
Friedrik’s tavern was quiet when she reached it. The street was dark — no lamplighters would be along this end of Steelhaven any time soon, and she paused at the threshold.
Last chance, Rag. Take it or leave it.
Rag turned the door handle and walked in.
She had no idea what she’d been expecting. Anger? Certainly. Uproar? Probably. Carnage? Yeah … but not like this.
The place looked smashed to pieces. There were corpses everywhere, many of them naked. The lads were doing their best to clean up; Yarrick and Essen were carrying a body to one corner where there was a pile of the dead. Even Harkas was helping, wiping blood off a tabletop with a soiled rag. Shirl, still looking worse for wear, stayed out of the way, too injured to help and too scared to leave.
Rag looked across at the shadow standing in front of the fire. All she could see was his back as he stared into the dying embers.
Rag wanted nothing more than to run. She should have taken that chance, should have fled when she was outside and the going was good, but she was here now. Had she brought all this about? All those people dead — and because she’d let Nobul go.
He’d warned her too — told her if she fucking hung around she’d end up dead just like them. And she’d believed him … mostly. She couldn’t have expected this though, could she? Surely it weren’t her fault?
Slowly she crossed the tavern to where Friedrik was stood. She didn’t say nothing, just stood behind him. Rag knew better than to interrupt him when he was lost in thought. Shirl and his bruises were enough of a lesson not to get on the wrong side of Friedrik. But then there was every chance she’d already got on his wrong side. Only question was, would she be able to lie her way out of it?
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Friedrik said, not looking round from the fire. Rag couldn’t tell if he was angry or not, there was neither joy nor menace in his tone.
‘I … I ran away,’ she replied, not knowing what else to say. ‘When it all kicked off I ran away into the night and I was too scared to come back.’ If she tried half-truths maybe he wouldn’t sniff out the lie in what she was saying. She’d already proved she weren’t no good at lying back when that woman Kaira caught her. No use chancing it now.
‘The lads said it was your idea they leave. Your idea the place was left unguarded. I said it couldn’t be true, that you’d never be so stupid.’
‘Yeah, I did say that, but I didn’t think-’
‘You didn’t think?’ Friedrik turned round, and she could see his face was grave, like he’d just been to a funeral. Or a dozen funerals, all at once. ‘Do you expect me to believe that? It’s something I’d believe of Shirl or Essen or Yarrick, but not you. You’re always thinking, Rag. Always one step ahead — that’s why I like you. That’s why I keep you around.’
‘I just meant … I didn’t think there were no danger.’
He stared at her, those eyes burning deep like he could see through the lies. ‘Well, clearly there fucking was, because it’s like a butcher’s shop in here. Rare cuts lie all around. Chop chop chop.’