Джо Аберкромби - A Little Hatred - Book One (The Age of Madness)

Vick frowned. ‘Aren’t you the Weaver?’

‘A title I borrowed from a better man,’ mused Risinau, before his fickle attention was snatched away. ‘We should draw up a manifesto, don’t you think? Demand a workers’ representative on the Closed Council!’ He had that gleam in his eye again, as though he was gazing off towards a better tomorrow. ‘Sibalt would have loved that idea …’

‘Look, brother.’ Malmer made one more desperate effort at waking the dreamer, stepping in close, making Risinau’s Practicals bristle. ‘I knew Sibalt, too, and he was a good man, but he’s dead. There’s lots of good living folk in need. People are hungry, people are sick, people are scared.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I’ll be honest, I’m bloody scared.’

‘You don’t have to be! No one does. We’ve stopped the riots, haven’t we?’

‘In daylight. But there have been beatings. Hangings, even. And not just owners. Foreigners. Servants. Folk are taking the chance to settle scores. To just grab whatever they want. We need order.’

‘And we will have it, brother! Some of the workers have been so long oppressed they were sure to be carried away with their new freedom. But our prisoners are safe in the House of Questions – of Liberty, I should say, the House of Liberty . The mayor, the commander of the city watch, various leading citizens, by which I mean the most greedy and debased—’

‘What about Savine dan Glokta?’ asked Malmer. ‘I heard she was in the city.’

‘She was.’ Risinau gave a shudder of distaste. ‘A most acid, arrogant and impolite young woman. The exploitative avarice of the modern age, personified. Scarcely to be preferred to her father as a dining companion.’

‘It’s not her manners that interest me, it’s what she could buy us.’

‘It would appear she slipped through our fingers. The day of the uprising was rather chaotic, as I say, even more so than expected …’

Broad gave Malmer a worried glance over his lenses. ‘Let’s hope Judge doesn’t have her.’

Vick felt a surge of worry even above the usual. ‘Why would Judge have her?’

‘The Burners took charge of a big chunk of the old town,’ said Broad. ‘We had to put barricades up. They aren’t too picky over who they hurt.’

‘We’ve no notion what’s going on over there,’ said Malmer, ‘but they’ve taken hostages. I hear Judge set herself up in the Courthouse—’

‘Where else would Judge take up residence?’ Risinau gave a little titter, but no one joined him.

‘She says she’s going to start trying her prisoners for crimes against the people.’

Vick felt the horror creeping up her throat. ‘How many does she have?’

‘Two hundred?’ Malmer gave a hopeless shrug. ‘Three? Some owners, some rich folk, but plenty of poor folk, too. Collaborators, she’s calling ’em. Anyone ain’t zealous enough for her taste. And her taste is for the very zealous.’

‘We have to get those prisoners,’ said Vick. ‘If we’re ever going to negotiate—’

‘Judge has never been the most reasonable.’ Risinau shrugged as though all this was a natural disaster in which he was entirely helpless. ‘Since the uprising, she has turned positively caustic .’

‘Don’t the Burners answer to you?’

‘Well … they’re unpredictable people. Fiery. That’s why they call them Burners, I suppose!’ He snorted up another a little titter, then, when he saw Vick had never looked less like laughing, cleared his throat and went on. ‘I suppose I could ask for her prisoners …’

‘Or you could send me to ask,’ she said, catching his eye and holding it. ‘That’s what Sibalt would’ve done. We need you to work on what really matters. Our manifesto. Our principles. Let me talk to Judge.’

Risinau liked that. His little eyes twinkled at the thought of paragraphs of neat script. Of high-minded declarations. Of rights and freedoms. ‘Sister, I begin to see why Sibalt thought so highly of you. Take some men along.’

‘Definitely.’ From what she’d seen of Judge, Vick thought she’d better take a lot of men and those ready for violence. As luck had it, her first pick was close by.

‘Brother Gunnar?’ She glanced down at the tattoo on Broad’s fist. ‘I’ve a feeling you could find a few men who know how to fight.’

He frowned at her over his lenses. ‘Made a promise to my wife I wouldn’t take any risks.’

‘The bigger risk is if we don’t do it. If the Arch Lector’s only daughter gets hurt, His Eminence won’t rest until every one of us is dangling.’ She looked over at Risinau, explaining to his unmasked Practicals how he wanted his new monument to look, living in a dream that was apt to become everyone’s nightmare. ‘At this rate, his new monument will be our tomb.’

All Equal

The Burners ruled here, and it showed.

There were houses plundered, their broken doors dangling from twisted hinges. There were houses burned out, their windows yawning empty, the fire-blackened brickwork of a fallen chimney stack left in pieces across the sun-baked mud of the roadway. Rubble and glass were scattered, torn clothes and broken furniture flung around as if a great wind had ripped through the neighbourhood. The place stank, worse the further they went. Stank of rot and piss and charred wood and stale smoke, all cooking in the sticky heat.

Sarlby held his flatbow tight, hard eyes flicking between the doorways. ‘Weren’t many rich folk around here before the uprising.’

‘Weren’t any,’ said Broad.

‘Got robbed and burned out anyway.’

‘Poor folk never feel comfortable around the rich. Given the choice, they’d much rather rob other poor folk.’

Vick turned to hiss over her shoulder. ‘Keep up. Keep together.’

‘Can’t say I care much for taking orders from a woman,’ grumbled Sarlby, though he took ’em anyway.

‘This one seems to know what she’s doing,’ said Broad. ‘More’n I can say for most of the officers in Styria.’

‘You’ve a point there.’

‘Looking back at the last five years, truth is I make shit decisions. These days I tend to do what the women tell me and assume it’s for the best. Liddy says build a barricade, I build one. May says take in the girl came over it, I take her in.’

‘The one with the clipped head? She’s living with you?’

‘Ardee’s her name, and she can’t do a damn thing. Liddy asked her to help cook and she looked at the pot like she never saw one before.’ Broad puffed out his cheeks. ‘But May’s taken a liking to her, so she stays.’

‘Hard times, I guess,’ said Sarlby. ‘Everyone’s got to do what they can.’

‘Hard times,’ echoed Broad. ‘When do they get softer? That’s the question.’

All felt far too quiet. He saw a figure lurking in an alleyway, a face at a window quickly vanished, a couple fighting over a bone who scurried away as they came close. Someone had been busy with a paintbrush, there were slogans smeared and spattered everywhere. Painted across whole terraces in letters three strides high. Scrawled across front doors in letters tiny as in a book.

‘What do they say?’ asked Sarlby.

Broad pushed his lenses up his sweaty nose and squinted so he could spell them out. ‘Fuck the king. Fuck the queen. Fuck them all. Rise up. Take what’s yours. That type o’ thing.’

‘Might steal your clothes,’ muttered Sarlby, shaking his head, ‘but they’ll leave you with a fine slogan. Fucking Burners. Just another kind of arsehole.’

‘That’s politics for you,’ grunted Broad. ‘Arseholes digging up excuses to be arseholes.’

‘High ideals and reality are like oil and water,’ muttered Vick. ‘They don’t mix well.’ She squatted at a corner, beckoning them over. ‘Quiet now. We’re here.’