Hope and Red (18 page)

“Aye, Captain,” said Ranking, a broad grin beneath his mustache as he left.

Hope stood up to go.

“Wait a moment,” said the captain. “You okay?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You seemed pretty shaken back there when you saw the biomancer sign.”

“It…reminded me of something. From my childhood. I have seen that sign once before.”

“When a biomancer does something like what they did on Murgesia—when they change a whole island like that—they leave a sign to warn others off, to let them know the place isn't safe anymore. The people in Murgesia seemed to have enough presence of mind to hide the sign.” He took another pull at the bottle. “They were once good people. A nice, friendly little port.”

“Why do they do it?” she asked. “The biomancers. Why do they do that to people?”

“Why? Because the emperor commands it, I suppose. No greater reason in all the lands.” He took another drink. “Or so they say.”

“That's not a real reason.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn't.”

Later that night, Hope lay in her hammock for hours before she could fall asleep. When she closed her eyes, she saw that sign. Black oval with eight black lines trailing down. Like the silhouette of a kraken. Murgesia was many leagues away from her own village. She wondered just how many villages had suffered from the cruelty of biomancers. Perhaps she had been too narrow-minded. Too self-centered in her longing for vengeance. The more she thought of it, killing one biomancer was not enough. She would take vengeance for all those poor souls who had suffered from their “experiments.” She would kill all the biomancers.

A haze hung over New Laven so thick that Hope wondered if the inhabitants could even see the sun. She stood at the ship railing with Captain Carmichael and looked out at the city before them. It was the biggest thing she'd ever seen. The docks alone stretched over more area than the village of Murgesia. Beyond that lay a collection of buildings so vast she could not guess where it ended.

“This must be the greatest city in the world,” she said.

Carmichael smiled. “No, Hope. It's impressive, I'll grant you. And has character to spare. But there are larger cities than this one. Stonepeak, the capital, is half again as big as this. And I've heard tell that past the Dark Sea are cities that span leagues.”

“I didn't realize there was anything past the Dark Sea,” admitted Hope.

“You thought the world just ended beyond the borders of the empire? My father came from a land called Aukbontar beyond that sea. He told my mother that his homeland was bigger than all the islands of the empire put together. Just one giant mass of land.”

“Is such a thing possible?”

“The world is far more vast than you or I could even conceive of. We are so very small, like minnows.”

“I already feel that way, being in a city like this,” she said.

Carmichael nodded. “New Laven might not be the biggest city in the world, but it may well be the hardest and meanest. This city will chew you up and spit you out, make no mistake. It takes the kindness right out of a person and leaves behind a cold, scheming eye.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, watching the dockworkers unload crates from other ships.

Finally, Hope said, “Captain, with respect, it seems like something has been bothering you since we made port.”

“Trying to understand how it is I ended up here.”

“Sir?”

“If you'd asked me five years ago whether I fancied becoming a smuggler running guns and drugs along the coasts of New Laven, I would have laughed in your face. Or maybe punched you. I tried to play by the rules, do the right thing. But life…” He shook his head. “It has a way of wearing you down so that one day you look around at the choices before you, and drug running don't even seem all that bad anymore.”

“How do you know it'll be drugs? Ranking said he'd find us whatever he could. I don't think drugs would be his first choice.”

“He's been looking for days,” said Carmichael. “I'm guessing there aren't a lot of choices. And anyway, what else would need smuggling? They make the drugs here and they sell them uptown where the paying customers live. Those lacies need something to while away the hours.”

“Lacies?”

“Rich folk. Like all cities, most people in New Laven don't have much, and a few people have most.”

“That doesn't seem right.”

“Add it to the list, Hope, my girl.”

“Still, we don't need to contribute to it.”

“I suppose not.”

“The Vinchen say it is better to fail with honor than succeed with dishonor. Because the victor's cup would be tainted and taste foul in your mouth.”

He turned to her and suddenly smiled. “Maybe after two years with you, that Vinchen code stuff is rubbing off on me, because that actually made sense. I've been so worried about losing this ship. But if keeping her means turning her into a drug runner, then maybe she's not worth keeping.”

Ranking returned later that day with news that he'd found them a cargo.

“What kind of cargo?” Carmichael had asked.

“The kind that pays. I didn't ask for details.”

Ranking led Carmichael and Hope through the docks, which were still bustling with activity, even though it was nearing twilight. Then he took them into the city proper.

Hope had walked the docks and wharfs for the past few days, but this was the first occasion she'd had to see more of the city. It was even more crowded than the docks, and it was filthy. The streets were at times ankle deep in a mixture of mud, garbage, and feces. The whole place smelled worse than anything Hope had ever experienced. Her simple fishing village had been poor, perhaps even impoverished. It probably hadn't seemed like much to the few traders who came through. But the people had taken care of it. This city seemed so magnificent at a distance, but up close, it was rotting at the core.

“How do people live like this?” she asked.

“Most of them are born to it and don't know any different,” said the captain.

“And those that do, take to sea the first chance they get,” said Ranking.

“I forgot you're from here,” said Hope. “I didn't mean any offense.”

“None taken,” he said. “Come on, it's this way.”

Hope and Carmichael followed Ranking through the winding streets, deeper into the city. As the skies continued to darken, Hope expected to see fewer people. But when night set in, an imperial officer began lighting street lamps, and people continued with their activities, whether it was selling, buying, drinking, or fighting. The darkness hid much of the squalor, and the lights twinkled merrily in a line that stretched as far down the street as she could see.

“It has a certain beauty at night,” she said.

“You should see uptown.” There was a strange note of pride in Ranking's voice. “Gas lighting piped right into the homes.”

“Does
anyone
in this city sleep?” asked Hope.

“It's a different rhythm, living in a large city,” said Carmichael. “Always seemed to me a bit too hard on a person.”

“That last scenic, secluded island didn't seem all that healthy either,” said Ranking.

“Point taken,” said the captain.

They walked on a little farther until they came to a tavern with a weathered old sign out front showing a large, angry-looking rodent and the name
THE DROWNED RAT
painted on it.

“This is the place,” said Ranking.

“This?” asked Hope. Through the grimy window, she could see a ragged and shifty-looking crowd swilling ale and shouting at one another. “I find it hard to believe we'll find someone with a good job in there.”

“I didn't say ‘good,'” said Ranking. “I said
paying
. His name is Deadface Drem, and he'll be waiting at the table in the back.”

“Aren't you coming?” asked Hope.

“Sure, of course.” Ranking nodded, but he was looking around distractedly. “I saw this girl I knew go past just now. I'll catch up with you. Only be a moment.” Then he hurried off down a side alley.

“Let's see what questionable cargo Ranking thinks he's found for us,” said Carmichael. “Keep your sword close.”

“My sword is always close,” said Hope.

The inside of the tavern was about what she'd expected. Crowded, loud, and stinking of sweat and stale beer. The patrons looked like an unpleasant bunch of pickpockets and murderers. Off in one corner was a group of boys about her age, staring at her and whispering to each other. She imagined they were debating whether to follow her when she left and try to rob her. She almost wished they would, so she could teach them a lesson.

She followed the captain to the large table in the back of the tavern. The three men at the table looked only slightly more well off than the other patrons. They were playing a game of stones. When Carmichael and Hope stepped up to the table, all three looked up at them. The man in the middle assessed them in a way that seemed predatory.

A moment later Ranking took his place on the other side of the captain. Hope glared at him, wondering why he'd felt the need to reunite with an old girlfriend right then. Surely he realized how critical it was for them to secure a job of some kind. When she turned back to look at the man at the table, his face had assumed a strangely blank expression.

“I judge you are the captain that Rank here was telling me about,” the man said in a flat, rough voice.

“My name's Carmichael, and I captain the
Lady's Gambit
,” he said, offering his hand.

“Name's Drem.” He ignored the offered hand. “And I run this neighborhood. You understand what that means?”

“Well enough,” said Carmichael.

“Sunny.” Drem's face was still eerily expressionless. “I've got goods that need to be moved up the coast to Radiant Bay in Hollow Falls without inspection or any imperial contact. We'll have them loaded before daybreak so you can set off at first light.”

“And what is the cargo?” asked the captain.

“None of your business,” said Drem.

“My ship, my business.”

“That how it is?”

“'Fraid so.”

“I'm a little confused, then,” said Drem. “You said you understood when I told you I run this neighborhood. That includes the docks and any ship tied to them.” He looked back down at the smooth, numbered stones on the table in front of him as if he'd suddenly lost interest in the conversation. “Rank, explain to the man how it is in the Circle.”

Hope had been focused on Drem and his men, ready if one of them made a move. She never would have expected one of Carmichael's own men to betray him. Not even Ranking. So when Ranking drew a pistol, it threw her for a second. And in that second, he fired a bullet into the side of Captain Carmichael's head. In the next second, the Song of Sorrows whistled from its sheath and removed Ranking's arm at the elbow while the captain's lifeless body dropped to the ground.

The two men at Drem's table stood and drew their guns. Hope lunged across the table and buried her blade in one man's neck before he could pull back the hammer on his gun. She turned to take down the other gunman, but found him drowning in his own blood as he clutched at a strange bladed object in his neck. She followed the trajectory and saw one of the boys who had been sitting in the corner. His dark hair fell partially across eyes that were oddly red-colored. He inclined his head and gave her a smug grin. She disliked him immediately.

She turned her attention back to Drem, who was getting to his feet, fumbling for his gun, his face no longer coolly blank, but a creased mask of rage. She leveled her sword at his chest. He froze.

“You can't kill me,” he snarled. “I
run
this neighborhood.”

She glanced around the tavern. Except for Ranking groaning on the floor, and the red-eyed boy, the place was now empty.

“Your neighborhood appears to have abandoned you,” she said.

“They just know what's coming, and they're smart enough to get out of the way,” said Drem.

Several men burst through the front door of the tavern, guns blazing. A bullet grazed her side, allowing Drem to dive behind a nearby table.

The new gunmen continued to fire. They had those pistols that allowed six shots before reloading. She was surprised that street thugs could afford such expensive weapons, but there wasn't time to consider that now. She flipped the table on its side and took cover behind it.

Someone moved next to her, and she whipped her blade around, thinking it was Drem. But it was the boy who'd helped her.

“Whoa!” he shouted over the roar of gunfire. “I'm on your side.”

“How do I know that?” she asked.

“Uh, because I just saved your life?”

“Hardly,” she said. “I would have killed him before he had a chance to shoot.”

“Okay, then I'm saving your life right now,” said the boy. “Because I'm getting us out of here.”

Hope glanced at him suspiciously, wondering why he was so bent on helping her. She'd already misplaced her trust once today. And yet, other than his general irritating smugness, she had a sense that he was genuine. Besides, the gunmen were staggering their shots and reloads, and the table wouldn't hold up much longer. Chunks were already splintering off around the edges.

“Do you have an exit strategy?” she asked.

“I
always
have one of those,” he said with that grin he probably thought was charming. He turned toward the bar. “Prin!” he yelled over the gunfire.

The top of a girl's head peeped out from behind the bar.

“Toss me the keys to the cellar!”

She shook her head.

“Come on, Prin! I'll leave them down there for you to get later. I promise. And…” He hesitated. “And I'll leave this, too.” He held up a bag of coins.