Douglas Hulick - Sworn in Steel

“I told you,” I said, shoving her hand away. “Shadow killed Iron Degan. How else do you explain finding Iron’s sword on Shadow’s body down in Ten Ways? He dusted Iron and then he came after me. I saw the damn sword in his hands.”

“And you managed to kill the man you say killed my sword brother?” She ran her eyes over me again. “You?”

I shrugged. “I got lucky.”

“No one’s that lucky.”

She was right, of course: I’d lied. Through my teeth. The only reason I’d survived my encounter with Shadow was that Degan had distracted the Gray Prince at the last minute, allowing me to kill him. Except I wasn’t about to tell her that story because I needed to keep Bronze Degan out of it; needed to keep the rest of the degans from knowing that Degan had run Iron through with a single, precise thrust; needed to shore up the lie so they wouldn’t know I was the one who’d planted Iron’s sword on Shadow’s remains. Degan had saved my life more times than I could count: I’d be damned if I was going to give him up to Copper and the rest by telling the truth-not when I knew it meant they’d hunt him down for Iron’s death.

“Look,” I said, “believe me or don’t believe me, I don’t care. The story isn’t changing no matter how many times you shove me into a door. I would have thought you figured that one out already.”

Copper took a step back and folded her arms, the picture of a dangerous woman having a dangerous debate with herself.

She was the one who’d come to ask me about Degan the first time around, and later the one who had dragged me to meet with five other members of the Order of the Degans. They hadn’t liked what I told them, hadn’t liked not having anyone alive to pin Degan’s disappearance on, let alone Iron’s death. Hadn’t liked it enough that I’d spent the next week pissing blood after they were done “talking” to me. But while Copper had never laid a hand on me during that entire time, she’d also clearly not reached the same conclusion as her fellows.

And that was what had me worried. It’s the calm ones you have to watch out for. Always.

Finally, she let out a sigh and dropped her arms. “All right, Kin,” she said, sounding tired. “We’ve gone over this as much as we’re going to here.”

I let myself relax. “Good, because I-”

“But,” she added, placing her hand on my shoulder-the shoulder that had the rope riding across it. I winced. “That doesn’t change the fact that Bronze is still missing, and that I still don’t believe you. And that means we’re going to spend some more time together.” She squeezed. I grunted. “So what we’re going to do is-”

“What you’re going to do,” said a voice behind Copper as the degan froze, her eyes going wide, “is let go of my boss and keep your hands out in front of you.”

I knew that voice. I smiled.

I shook off Copper’s hand and peered around the degan. Behind her, long knife prodding the space just to the left of the degan’s spine, stood Fowler. The Oak Mistress’s hair was a near tangle, her clothing wrinkled and stiff from having dried on her body, her eyes ringed by dark smudges of fatigue. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the spark that shone within the hollows of her eyes and the thrust of her lower lip above her dirty chin. What mattered was she was breathing. That, and the fact that she had a pair of her Oaks behind her.

If Copper hadn’t been standing between us, I would have kissed Fowler then and there, consequences be damned.

Copper looked over her shoulder. I saw her grin in profile.

“Three?” she said. “You think I can’t handle three of you, little bird?”

Fowler tilted her head and met the degan grin for grin. “I know you can. Which is why I made sure to send word to Blue Cloak Rhys and his boys before I came to interrupt.” She looked past Copper to me for the first time. “Sorry for the delay.”

I shrugged. “These things happen.”

It might seem strange, but I didn’t control Blackpot Street or any of the surrounding cordon, collectively known as Paper Hill. Gray Princes didn’t operate that way. We didn’t control territory; we controlled people. We influenced them, manipulated them, bought and sold them, steered and guided them-all without most of them being any the wiser. The threat of the Gray Prince was not that he would send his people after you-it was that he would get your people to do his bidding for him. With a Gray Prince, you didn’t have to watch out for enemies-you had to watch out for everyone.

Or, at least, that was the theory. I hadn’t quite figured out the finer points of pulling all of the marionette strings yet, and so had to rely on other tools, one of which was Blue Cloak Rhys. Fortunately for me, Rhys was the local Upright Man. He was also mine. And while I might not have controlled the surrounding streets, he most certainly did.

Copper knew all this, of course, just as she knew that when Rhys showed up, it wouldn’t be alone. A degan she might be, but I suspected an alley full of heavily armed muscle could ruin even her day.

If the degan spent any time weighing her options, she didn’t show it. She merely nodded once, put both of her hands in plain sight, and stepped slowly aside. She showed me a cool smile.

“Another time, then,” she said.

I smiled back. “Mm-hmm.”

Copper turned and, without sparing even a glance for Fowler or her men, strolled off down the street.

Fowler watched the degan go. When Copper was half a block away, she nodded to her Oaks. They headed out after her, one melting into the crowd so expertly that I had trouble picking him out after ten paces, the other moving toward a side street where he could parallel Copper either from roof or alley. Neither of them, I knew, would stop following the degan until she was well out of Paper Hill.

“Is Blue Cloak Rhys really coming?” I said to Fowler as I watched them go.

“Are you joking?” said Fowler. She slid her long blade home. “When’s the last time you saw Rhys before sunset? That bastard’s eyes would shrivel up if he ever looked on daylight.”

I nodded after the retreating degan. “Thanks for tha-”

“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

Fowler turned, slapped both of her hands against my chest, and shoved. “I said, fuck you! ” she shouted as I stumbled back. “What the hell were you thinking back there at the landing?”

“I-”

“Shut up. I’ll tell you what you were thinking. You were thinking you knew better. You were thinking you needed to do something so you could save my ass. You were thinking you were going to be clever and fast and play the hero.” She stepped forward and shoved again. This time I stayed put. “You were thinking like a fucking Nose.”

“I was thinking,” I said, stepping forward, “that we were overmatched and needed to get the hell out of there. Or would you have rather waited for more of Soggy Petyr’s people to arrive before we ran?”

“I would have rather you left it to me in the first place. If anyone’s supposed to draw Cutters away from someone else, it’s me. You don’t get to take those kinds of risks anymore.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s precisely the point. If I’d stayed we might all be dead. You were busy killing one cove and holding off another, and Scratch was pinned in; I was the only one who could play the hare. So I did.”

“And ended up with three Cutters on your blinders.”

“Better on my blinders than in your face.”

Fowler’s hand flew faster than I could catch it. The crack of it connecting with my cheek practically echoed off the surrounding buildings.

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare pretend that my life is more valuable than yours, that I don’t get to make that choice. I’m your Oak Mistress, dammit-it’s my job to watch out for you.”