Abercrombie, Joe - The Heroes

Tell him or not?

‘Fuck,’ he whispered.

‘Aye,’ said Shivers. Craw almost took a tumble on the wet grass. ’Til he remembered there was an awful lot a man could be saying fuck about. That’s the beauty of the word. It can mean just about anything, depending on how things stand. Horror, shock, pain, fear, worry. None were out of place. There was a battle on.

The little tumbledown house crept out of the dark, nettles sprouting from its crumbling walls, a piece of the roof fallen in and the rotten timbers sticking up like dead rib bones. Dow took Shivers’ torch. ‘You wait here.’

Shivers paused just a moment, then bowed his head and leaned back by the door, faintest gleam of moonlight settled on his metal eye.

Craw ducked through the low doorway, trying not to look worried. When he was alone with Black Dow, some part of him – and not a small one – always expected a knife in the back. Or maybe a sword in the front. But a blade, anyway. Then he was always the tiniest bit surprised when he lived out the meeting. He’d never felt that way with Threetrees, or even Bethod. Hardly seemed the mark of the right man to follow … He caught himself chewing at a fingernail, if you could even call it a fingernail there was that little left of the bastard thing, and made himself stop.

Dow took his torch over to the far side of the room, shadows creeping about the rough-sawn rafters as he moved. ‘Ain’t heard back from the girl, then, or her father neither.’ Craw thought it best to stick to silence. Whenever he said a word these days it seemed to end up in some style of disaster. ‘Looks like I put myself in debt to the bloody giant for naught.’ Silence again. ‘Women, eh?’

Craw shrugged. ‘Don’t reckon I’ll be lending you any insights on that score.’

‘You had one for a Second, didn’t you? How did you make that work?’

‘She made it work. Couldn’t ask for a better Second than Wonderful. The dead know I made some shitty choices but that’s one I’ve never regretted. Not ever. She’s tough as a thistle, tough as any man I know. Got more bones than me and sharper wits too. Always the first to see to the bottom o’ things. And she’s a straight edge. I’d trust her with anything. No one I’d trust more.’

Dow raised his brows. ‘Toll the fucking bells. Maybe I should’ve picked her for your job.’

‘Probably,’ muttered Craw.

‘Got to have someone you can trust for a Second.’ Dow crossed to the window, peering out into the windy night. ‘Got to have trust.’

Craw snatched at another subject. ‘We waiting for your black-skinned friend?’

‘Not sure I’d call her a friend. But yes.’

‘Who is she?’

‘One o’ those desert-dwellers. Don’t the black give it away?’

‘What’s her interest in the North, is my question?’

‘Couldn’t tell you that for sure, but from what I’ve gathered she’s got a war of her own to fight. An old war, and for now we’ve a battlefield in common.’

Craw frowned. ‘A war between sorcerers? That something we want a part of?’

‘We’ve a part of it already.’

‘Where did you find her?’

‘She found me.’

That was a long way from putting his fears to rest. ‘Magic. I don’t know—’

‘You were up on the Heroes yesterday, no? You saw Splitfoot.’

Hardly a memory to lift the mood. ‘I did.’

‘The Union have magic, that’s a fact, and they’re happy to use it. We need to match fire with fire.’

‘What if we all get burned?’

‘I daresay we will.’ Dow shrugged. ‘That’s war.’

‘Can you trust her, though?’

‘No.’ Ishri was leaning against the wall by the door, one foot crossed over the other and a look like she knew what Craw was thinking and wasn’t much impressed. He wondered if she knew he’d been thinking about Calder and tried not to, which only brought him more to mind.

Dow, meanwhile, didn’t even turn around. Just slid his torch into a rusted bracket on the wall, watching the flames crackle.

‘Seems our little gesture of peace fell on stony ground,’ he tossed over his shoulder.

Ishri nodded.

Dow stuck his bottom lip out. ‘Nobody wants to be my friend.’

Ishri made one thin eyebrow arch impossibly high.

‘Well, who wants to shake hands with a man whose hands are bloody as mine?’

Ishri shrugged.

Dow looked down at his hand, made a fist of it and sighed. ‘Reckon I’ll just have to get ’em bloodier. Any idea where they’re coming from today?’

‘Everywhere.’

‘Knew you’d say that.’

‘Why ask, then?’

‘Least I got you to speak.’ There was a long silence, then Dow finally turned around, settling back with elbows on the narrow windowsill. ‘Go on, go for some more.’

Ishri stepped away from the wall, letting her head drop back and roll in a slow circle. For some reason every movement of hers made Craw feel a little disgusted, like watching a snake slither. ‘In the east, a man called Brock has taken charge, and prepares to attack the bridge in Osrung.’

‘And what kind of man is he? Like Meed?’

‘The opposite. He is young, pretty and brave.’

‘I love those young brave pretty men!’ Dow glanced over at Craw. ‘It’s why I picked one out for my Second.’

‘None out of three ain’t bad.’ Craw realised he was chewing at his nail yet again, and whipped his hand away.

‘In the centre,’ said Ishri, ‘Jalenhorm has a great number of foot ready to cross the shallows.’

Dow gave his hungry grin. ‘Gives me something to look forward to today. I quite enjoy watching men try to climb hills I’m sat on top of.’ Craw couldn’t say he was looking forward to it, however much the ground might have taken their side.

‘In the west Mitterick strains at the leash, keen to make use of his pretty horses. He has men across the little river too, in the woods on your western flank.’

Dow raised his brows. ‘Huh. Calder was right.’

‘Calder has been hard at work all night.’

‘Damned if it ain’t the first hard work that bastard’s ever done.’

‘He stole two standards from the Union in the darkness. Now he taunts them.’

Black Dow chuckled to himself. ‘You’ll not find a better hand at taunting. I’ve always liked that lad.’

Craw frowned over at him. ‘You have?’

‘Why else would I keep giving him chances? I got no shortage of men can kick a door down. I can use a couple who’ll think to try the handle once in a while.’

‘Fair enough.’ Though Craw had to wonder what Dow would say if he knew Calder was trying the handle on his murder. When he knew. It was a case of when. Wasn’t it?

‘This new weapon they’ve got.’ Dow narrowed his eyes to lethal slits. ‘What is it?’

‘Bayaz.’ Ishri did some fairly deadly eye-narrowing of her own. Craw wondered if there was a harder pair of eye-narrowers in the world than these two. ‘The First of the Magi. He is with them. And he has something new.’

‘That’s the best you can do?’

She tipped her head back, looking down her nose. ‘Bayaz is not the only one who can produce surprises. I have one for him, later today.’

‘I knew there had to be a reason why I took you under my wing,’ said Dow.

‘Your wing shelters all the North, oh mighty Protector.’ Ishri’s eyes rolled slowly to the ceiling. ‘The Prophet shelters under the wing of God. I shelter under the wing of the Prophet. That thing that keeps the rain from your head?’ And she held her arm up, long fingers wriggling, boneless as a jar of bait. Her face broke out in a grin too white and too wide. ‘Great or small, we all must find some shelter.’ Dow’s torch popped, its light flickered for a moment, and she wasn’t there.