Joe Abercrombie - Sharp Ends

‘Having murderers chasing you every hour of your life does rather limit your options,’ snapped Shev.

She felt Carcolf’s hand on her shoulder, gently drawing her back into the shadows. She shook her off, moved instead to stand beside Javre. If she was about to die, that was where she chose to do it.

The blue, blue eyes of the High Priestess slid over to her. ‘Who is this … person?’

Javre drew herself up to her full height then, puffing up her chest, and put her hand on Shev’s shoulder. ‘She is Shevedieh, the greatest thief in Styria.’

Shev might have had a foot less height and about a quarter of the chest that Javre did, but she drew up and puffed out what she had. ‘And I am proud to be Javre’s sidekick.’

‘Partner,’ said Javre, and gently guided her back. ‘But leave her out of it.’

The eyes of the High Priestess drifted towards her daughter. ‘Believe it or not, and in spite of all the pointless bloodshed between us, I have never wished to harm anyone.’

Javre stretched her neck out one way and the other, then put her bandaged hand on the rag-wrapped grip of her sword. ‘I will tell you what I told Hanama, and Birke, and Weylen, and Golyin, and all your other lapdogs. I will be no one’s slave. Not even yours.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Especially not yours. I would sooner die than go back with you.’

‘I know.’ Javre’s mother wearily puffed out her cheeks in just the way Javre did when she and Shev had their endless theological debates. ‘If the last fourteen years have taught me anything, it is that. Even as a girl you were stubborn beyond belief. All my efforts to make you bend, with smiles, with entreaties, with threats, with blows, and finally with blades, have done nothing but temper you. There are some wearying patterns to life that, try as we might, we never can seem to escape.’

Shev could hardly deny that. Here she was, outnumbered and facing death once again. How many bloody times now? She made a show of holding up one hand, as if to check her fingernails, and slipped the other towards that vial at her belt. One lucky throw might blow two of those Templars to the hereafter they were so fond of and maybe bring one of the towers down to boot. A spectacular note to end on, if nothing else …

‘The Goddess teaches us to embrace them.’ The High Priestess glanced towards Shev. ‘You can leave that vial alone, my child. I have another choice for your partner. There is something that I need.’

Javre snorted. ‘You have never been one to bridle at taking what you want.’

‘This thing is not easily taken. It is in the possession of …’ And Javre’s mother worked her mouth as though there was a sour taste there. ‘A wizard. A Magus of the Old Time.’

Shev leaned close to Javre. ‘I don’t much like the sound of-’

‘Shush,’ she said.

‘Deliver this thing to me, Javre, and you are free. I, and the guards of my temple, will pursue you no longer.’

‘That is all?’ asked Javre.

‘That is all.’

Shev caught her by her big bare arm. ‘Javre! We don’t know what this thing is, or where it’s kept, and I really don’t like the sound of this whole Magus of the Old Time business-’

‘Shevedieh.’ Javre patted her hand and gently peeled her fingers away. ‘When you have only one choice, there is no purpose waiting to make it. I accept.’

‘Well, then.’ Shev glanced over at Carcolf and gave a long, shuddering, painful sigh, her puffed chest rapidly collapsing. ‘Guess I’ll be stealing a thing off a wizard.’

Javre had a little smile at the corner of her mouth as she glanced down at her. ‘You and I, side by side?’

‘That’s where a sidekick belongs, no? You can do the fighting, I can do the complaining.’

‘Just the way it has always been.’

‘How else would it be?’

Javre’s smile curled up a little further. ‘I appreciate the offer, Shevedieh. It means … more than you can know. But you have earned the chance at something better. Some things one has to do alone.’

‘Javre-’

‘If I die, drowned in some bog, or spitted by some guard, or roasted by some wizard’s Art, well, it will be some consolation to know that my partner lived to be old and shrivelled, still telling tall tales of our high adventures together.’

Shev blinked. Strange, how a day before all she could think of were the bad times. The thousand hurts, the million arguments, the nights spent on the stony ground. Now all the good came up at once and choked her. The laughter, the songs, the knowing there was always, always someone at her back. She tried to smile but her sight was swimming. ‘It’s been something, though, hasn’t it?’

‘It has,’ said Javre, glancing over to Carcolf. ‘Look after her.’

Carcolf swallowed. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Fail, and there will be no place in the Circle of the World where you will be safe from me.’ She laid that great, heavy, comforting hand on Shev’s shoulder one more time. ‘Fare you well, my friend.’ And she turned away, towards her mother.

‘Fare you well,’ whispered Shev, wiping her eyes.

Carcolf took her gently by the shoulders from behind and drew her close. ‘Let’s go home.’

‘You should come talk to me!’ called Horald after her. ‘I can always find work for the best thief in-’

‘Go fuck yourself, Horald,’ said Shev.

When they got back there, her place was still killed.

‘Nothing broken that can’t be fixed.’ Carcolf righted Shev’s ruined table and brushed some broken plaster off it with the back of her hand. ‘We’ll get it all put right in no time. I know people.’

‘Seems you know everyone,’ muttered Shev, numbly, tossing down her bag.

‘We’ll take a trip. Just you and me. Change of scene.’ Carcolf had hardly stopped talking since they rowed away from Carp Island. As if she was worried by what might be said if she left a gap. ‘Jacra, maybe. Or the Thousand Isles? I’ve never been. You always said the Isles are beautiful.’

‘Javre thought so,’ muttered Shev.

Carcolf paused, then pressed on as if the name hadn’t been mentioned at all. ‘When we get back it’ll all be so much better. You’ll see. Let me change. Then we’ll go out. We’ll do something fun.’

‘Fun.’ Shev flopped onto the one intact chair. She was the one who really needed to change but she couldn’t be bothered. She hardly had the strength to stand.

‘You remember what it is?’

Shev forced out a weak grin. ‘Maybe you can remind me.’

‘Of course I can.’ Carcolf smiled. ‘Fun’s my middle name.’

‘Oh? So it’s just your first name I’m missing.’

‘What kind of a mysterious beauty would I be without any mysteries?’ And Carcolf consummately acted the part of a mysterious beauty over her shoulder as the bedroom door swung shut.

Shev winced, bruised side aching as she squirmed out of her coat, tools clattering as it dropped to the floor, a loose smoke bomb rolling free through the mess. She slumped down, elbows on her knees, chin on her hands.

Javre was out of her life. Carcolf was in it. She was square with Horald the Finger. Everything she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

So why did she feel so bloody miserable?

There was a soft knock at the door and Shev frowned as she looked up. Another knock. She slid out her sword-eater, held it down by her right side as she stood, and with her left hand nudged the door open a crack.

There was a twitchy youth out in the stairwell with big ears and a rash of spots around his mouth.

‘You Carcolf?’ He squinted through the gap. ‘You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.’

‘I’m shorter than I hoped I’d be,’ snapped Shev. ‘Reckon my height’s a disappointment to us both.’