Now let’s say instead I nobly put down my weapons. The guards kill me, Shiballe kills the girl, finishes his bottle of wine, and goes home happy. The math is good for Shiballe, but very bad for me and for the girl. So that option doesn’t work either.
What’s really left? Well, let’s imagine for a moment that time freezes. Where are we? Shiballe’s got the girl so he feels better than if he had nothing and I’m (barely) holding off three guards. No one’s dead yet and everything’s possible and, strange as it might sound, that’s about the best option for everyone.
But of course time hasn’t frozen, and something has to happen.
This is where the mathematics really comes into play: you see, while it’s true that almost everyone has an interest in nothing changing, Shiballe’s position doesn’t really change that much whether he has three guards on me or two. I mean, I’m not saying it would be his first choice but he still gets a two-to-one advantage, and he still has the girl. So if something has to happen, then one of the guards dying is, mathematically speaking, the best option available to all of us.
That’s why I drove the point of the rapier in my left hand into the first man’s throat.
Shiballe’s arm tightened on the girl’s neck. ‘You’re killing her, Trattari,’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Reflex.’
‘Drop your weapons, dog, and the girl at least will live.’
Fat chance. ‘You kill her and I’ll stab you in the face long before either of these incompetents gets a blow on me.’
He hesitated. ‘Then we appear to be at an impasse,’ he said.
Both his men had their swords ready, but they were waiting for a cue to act.
‘Not really,’ I said. Remember the maths? ‘You see, there are only a few possible outcomes here: one, you kill the girl, I kill you, your men kill me. The second possibility, you don’t kill the girl, I kill your men, and then I kill you.’
‘I think I can see another possible outcome, Trattari,’ he said. ‘Another of my men comes down the street, sees what’s happening and kills you.’
One of the guards smiled at that prospect.
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ I told him. ‘This’ll be over long before that happens.’
The guard tightened his grip on his sword. I looked back at Shiballe. ‘There is a third alternative.’
‘Ah, of course, you mean the one where we let you go on your merry way and trust you won’t murder me in my sleep?’ he asked.
‘No, don’t be silly. I’m going to kill you one way or another, if not today, then someday in the future. You’re a sick bastard and I can’t stand the idea of a world that has you in it. No, my solution is much simpler, and actually has a chance of working.’
I took a breath. ‘You order your men to attack me together and you start running as fast as you can. Sure, they’ll be sacrificing themselves, but as long as they’re trying to stay alive they’ll give you the time you need to get away into the alleyways of this shithole you call a city. Chances are I won’t get to you before either you’re well hidden or someone comes along to kill me and the girl.’
I waited for a moment to let him think about it. ‘It really is the best option, mathematically speaking,’ I said, to reassure him.
His men were shifting nervously. ‘I like you, tatter-cloak,’ Shiballe said cheerfully. ‘You make good sense. However, if my guards attack you now, it really won’t impede my progress that much if I just twist this harlot’s daughter’s head off first, so I think that’s what we’ll do.’
I sighed. ‘You really don’t understand probability and mathematics, now, do you, Shiballe?’
He screamed for his men to attack, grabbed the girl’s head with his free hand, keeping his right arm firmly around her neck, and started to twist.
I threw my right-hand rapier at Shiballe’s face, point-first. Startled, he ducked, nearly losing his footing. As his men leapt for me, the girl squirmed out of his grasp and – stupidly – ran for the pistol, which was still unloaded. I sidestepped one blade and blocked the other. Shiballe reached for the girl again, but by then I’d kicked the knee out from the guard on my left and Shiballe saw the odds shifting against him. ‘Fight, you damned fools!’ he screamed as he ran for the alleyway on the other side of the street.
The guard whose knee I’d broken did an admirable job of fighting through the pain. He grabbed my left leg, pulling me down to the ground and giving his friend an opening to bring his blade down on me. As I went down on my back I shifted my rapier to my right hand and extended it fully. The tip pierced the attacker’s throat and his blade fell from his hand as his knees buckled under him.
That left the girl holding an empty pistol and clicking the trigger futilely, Shiballe long gone into the alleyways of the city, looking for help, and me lying on my back with the first guard still holding my leg and pulling a knife from his belt.
‘What’s my name?’ I asked calmly.
He stopped and looked back at me for a second, maybe trying to figure his chances. After a moment he slid back, dropped the knife and said, ‘Idiot should’ve killed the girl first.’
‘True,’ I said, getting my feet under me and standing.
‘Are you going to kill me now? I thought you tatter-cloaks didn’t do that unless there was no other way?’ the guard asked, holding his broken knee.
‘No, I’m not going to—’
The point of a rapier stabbed into his right ear. I got my sword up, and only then realised the girl had done it: she had dropped the useless pistol and picked up my fallen rapier and driven it into the side of the man’s head.
Calmly as anything, she pulled the blade back out, wiped the blood off on the guard’s face and handed the rapier back to me, hilt first.
‘We should run now,’ Aline said.
THE BULLY BOYS
My strategem for keeping the girl alive was simple: find a place to hide and stay there until the week was over. Then she would be free to seek shelter from another noble family, or she could leave the city entirely. Either way, she would be alive, and that was a good enough outcome for me. Find a place to hide, wait until it’s over: nothing could be simpler. It was sometime around the third bell of our first night before I realised why it wouldn’t work.
Shiballe had assumed that he and his men would be more than sufficient to take out one man and a young girl, and that error in judgement had bought us enough time to make our way from Aline’s street, through the merchants’ quarter and into the Redbrick District. This had been one of the most affluent parts of the city two centuries ago, but over time the red clay used to make the bricks had begun to wear down, making every building a catastrophe waiting to happen. The richer merchants moved out and the poor moved into the fallen buildings and decaying streets. Those who squatted in the most broken-down buildings were the poorest of all. With broken sewer lines, no running water and with every strong storm promising disaster, it was a terrible place to live – but it would have been a perfect place to hide, if it hadn’t been for the magic. Saints, how I hate magic.
It took us less than an hour to find a suitable hiding place. The building had barely any walls standing and was next to a sealed-off alleyway. The top two storeys had fallen down completely, and the single remaining floor had one long wall and part of another exposed to the elements. But inside, enough debris had fallen to create a kind of fortress within the husk of the old building. There were good sight lines from inside, and at least two escape routes if necessary. Contrary to my expectations, the girl didn’t complain about the standard of accommodation. Instead, she looked around once and then walked in. I made one quick circle around the building to look for possible signs of ownership before I settled down next to her and started rubbing my leg. The wound I’d taken from the constable’s crossbow had mostly healed now, but weeks on the road made for a stiff limb. I supposed it would get all the rest it needed now, though we would soon have to find a source of water and at least a little food to survive the week.