Richard Ford - Herald of the Storm

Garret was sitting at the same table he’d been at last time. Sipping tea in the middle of the drill yard as if he didn’t have a care in the world. One of the Sentinels told the captain he had company, and he turned around to see Merrick and Kaira waiting there breathlessly.

‘Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Ryder,’ he said.

‘I didn’t expect to be back so soon,’ Merrick replied, slipping into the chair opposite him. Kaira stood to one side as though she were a guard on duty. Merrick only hoped Garret would be impressed by that.

The captain took a sip from his porcelain cup with the blue bird painted on the side, then said, ‘Have you reconsidered my offer?’

Right to business. Merrick liked this already. ‘I have. I think it’s about time I took on some responsibility.’

Garret smirked humourlessly. ‘You’ll have that all right. King Cael gone to the Halls of Arlor, assassins trying to murder the princess, Khurtas heading for the city. We’re up against it and no mistake. The Sentinels will be called upon to defend the city walls and everyone in it over the coming weeks. Chances are we’ll lose more than a few. Maybe worse than that. You ready to face your end head on, lad?’

It was better than the alternative. At least in the Sentinels he’d have a fighting chance. Up against the Guild he had no chance at all.

‘I’m ready. If you’ll have me.’

Garret’s humourless smirk turned to a genuine smile. ‘You know I will, lad. I owe your father that. But what about your friend?’

Merrick glanced to Kaira, who still hadn’t moved. ‘Oh, she can handle herself. I can vouch for her.’

Garret thought on that. ‘I’m sure you can, but I’ll need a better demonstration than your word, young Merrick. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d tried to fool me, would it?’

Merrick had to admit, it wouldn’t. ‘Feel free to try her out. I’d wager her sword arm against any of your men. Even give you two to one.’

‘Two to one? I’ll take those odds.’ Garret turned to the two Sentinels standing watch from the archway. ‘Waldin! Statton! Practice swords!’

As his men gathered their wooden weapons, Garret picked up his dainty table and moved it to one side of the drill yard. His men returned quickly bearing their wooden wasters, with a spare for Kaira.

Merrick nodded at her as she took up her sword and was pleased when she offered him a wink back.

‘Begin when you’re ready,’ said Garret, as his men took up a defensive stance. Kaira just stood and waited for their attack. ‘Waldin and Statton are two of my best,’ he whispered to Merrick. ‘This’ll be easy money, lad.’

‘Aye, easy money,’ Merrick replied.

Damn right it would be.

Rag’s feet were like two lumps of meat on the end of her ankles. She’d been walking round for a day and a night but all these streets looked the same, all these warehouses had the same brickwork and slate roofs and big wooden doors. It was like she’d been walking round in circles.

When first she ran from the Greencoats’ barracks she’d been elated, couldn’t wait to get back to that bloke from the Guild and show him what she’d got. Now she just wanted shut of it in case the Greencoats caught up with her.

She was too stubborn to just ditch it. Rag hadn’t been through all this to throw everything away now. She was gonna hold on to that head until she found the right place or the Greencoats caught her, and that was just the way of it.

Rag had always been good at hiding in plain sight. She could probably have walked right up to the palace wearing King Cael’s rotting head as a hat and no one would have noticed, so wandering the streets with a bundle under her arm hadn’t garnered much attention. For the first time in a while, Rag was glad that no one gave a damn about her.

She was about ready to sit down and give up, walking down one abandoned road for what she thought must have been the umpteenth time, when she realised one of the vast wooden doors was ajar.

Rag glanced up and down the street, sure it was familiar. Dusk was fast approaching and even if this was the spot, would there be anyone still inside?

There was only one way to find out.

Rag peered in, pressing her face to the darkness. She couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her, but there was a sound coming from inside, a soft purring sound like the biggest cat she’d ever come across had fallen asleep.

This weren’t no time for trepidation. If she was gonna get what she wanted, if this was all gonna be worth the pain and hassle and blood and gore, she’d have to walk in like she meant it. No pissing about.

She grabbed the door and pulled it to one side. It protested noisily, rusty hinges squealing as its big bulk moved aside, shedding light on the interior of the warehouse and the dusty floorboards within.

Bloodstains on the wood, smear marks where someone had been dragged off.

This was the place, all right.

Rag stepped inside, following the telltale sound of snoring until she found him. He was lying on his back, hands crossed over his fat gut, leg dangling idly over the side of an old wooden crate. She didn’t recognise him as one of the thugs from the other night, but she had to take a chance. He had to be one of the Guild’s men. Why would he be here otherwise? He didn’t look like a vagabond sleeping rough; his clothes were too clean and it didn’t look like he’d skipped any meals recently.

Now, what was that bloke’s name? It had been mentioned more than once the other night but she’d been so scared she’d hardly taken any notice.

‘I want to see Friedrik!’ she demanded, her voice echoing through the abandoned warehouse.

The man on the crate sat up like he’d been stabbed in the arse, hand reaching instinctively to the dagger at his belt.

‘What? Who the fuck are you?’

They stared at one another, he with a bewildered expression, her forcing a look of determination onto her face.

‘I said, “I want to see Friedrik.” You’re one of his boys, ain’t you?’

The man nodded. Then shook his head. Then just looked confused.

‘What do you want with Friedrik?’ he asked, still sitting on the crate, obviously not feeling in the slightest bit threatened, even though if she’d felt like it she could have slit his throat while he slept.

‘I was here the other night, remember? I have what he asked for.’

Recognition slowly dawned on the bloke’s face, then he smiled. ‘You’re that little thief what helped kill the merchant. You best be off, lass. If Friedrik catches you he’ll cut your ears off for the laughs.’

‘We had a deal,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to claim on it.’

‘Look, girl.’ He was serious now, like Rag was starting to get on his nerves. ‘Piss off. I’m not summoning Friedrik here for some urchin who’s got too big for her boots.’ He glanced down at Rag’s bare feet. ‘And you haven’t even got any fucking boots. On your way, I’ve got sleep to catch up on.’

With that he lay back down on the crate.

Rag had just about had her fill of talking.

She walked forward, unwrapping Krupps’ head from the blanket that was now mostly congealed to the dead flesh. With that, she plonked it on the fella’s lap.

‘What the fu …’ he managed to say, before he saw the beaten and mashed face of Krupps staring up from his crotch and his words turned into a scream. With the back of his hand he swiped the head off him like it was about to bite his cock off.

‘Hells, what are you doing?’

‘I told you,’ said Rag, keeping her calm as best she could. ‘Me and Friedrik had a deal. Now go and bloody get him.’