Hope and Red (22 page)

“Sure. Why?”

“I should talk to the crew of the
Lady's Gambit
. They might not even know Captain Carmichael's dead. Those men have fought at my side. I should at least tell them what's happened.”

“Captainless ship, you say?” asked Finn.

“Gunned down by Drem's boots in the Drowned Rat yesterday,” said Red.

“Well, actually shot by Ranking, his first mate,” said Hope.

Sadie's eyes narrowed with interest. “And what happened to the mate?”

“I'm not sure,” said Hope. “The last time I saw him, he was bleeding all over the floor after I'd cut off half his arm.”

“You don't think the crew just elected a new captain and slipped away?” asked Finn.

“It needs a lot of repairs,” said Hope. “I'm not even sure it's seaworthy.”

“Well, now,” said Finn, and gave Sadie a significant look.

“Why don't you show us this ship of yours,” said Sadie. “I'm guessing you might, at some point, have a need to leave this place swiftlike. Good to have a functional ship on hand for that.”

“Perhaps,” said Hope, her eyes narrowing. She looked questioningly at Red, but he shrugged. He had no idea what Sadie's scheme was.

“Now, listen, it's not like what you're thinking,” said Sadie. “Long as you're running with Red, you and I are old pots. What I'm thinkin' is this. Finn is good with ships. Got the
Savage Wind
up and seaworthy, and he's been workin' on them ever since. You kids do what you need to do. In the meantime, Finn and I will fix up your ship.”

“It's not my ship, though,” said Hope.

“Whose is it?” asked Sadie.

“No one's, really.”

“Then it's yours to take.”

“So what's the trade?” asked Red.

“Simple as sideways,” said Sadie. “When you slide, you take us with you on the crew.”

Red was surprised. “Really? That's what you want?”

“I only got so many years left, despite your best efforts. I surely wouldn't mind spending them at sea in the fresh air and sunshine. See a bit of the world before I go.”

“I'd as soon slip mooring as anything else,” said Missing Finn.

Red turned to Hope. “What do you think? If we do somehow manage to pull this off, a boat might be a smart idea.”

“Let's see what's waiting for us before we make any decisions,” said Hope. “The rest of the crew might have some objections to this plan.”

There were no objections to the plan. Because there was no crew. The
Lady's Gambit
had been emptied of both people and all supplies. Anything not locked or bolted down had been taken.

“As I thought,” said Finn. “People got to eat. They ran out of provisions and patience, saw other ships around looking for crews, offering a meal and a bit of money. What would you do?”

“So we just…leave it here?” asked Hope.

“Well…” Finn turned toward the other end of the dock. A large man with a black beard was coming toward them. “There's the dockmaster to deal with.”

“You! Southie!” the man yelled as he continued toward them. “I don't know what happened to Carmichael and the rest of your crew, but someone owes me two days' docking fees. And if you don't pay me or get it off this dock by sundown, I'll have it sunk. Don't think I won't!”

“Now, now, my good wag,” said Red cheerfully. “Let's leave off this talk of sinking ships. How much did you say it was per day to dock here?”

“A fiveyard,” said the man warily.

“Okay, then. So my maths aren't the greatest, but I think this”—he flashed two gold coins—“ought to get us, what, a week?”

The man stopped short, eyeing the coins. Red made sure to turn them slightly so they gleamed in the sunlight.

“About,” admitted the dockmaster.

Red turned to Finn. “That be long enough to get it shipshape?”

“Probably. Although judging by the lean of that foremast, might be more like two.”

“Well, then,” said Red. “Better add two more, just to be safe.” He pulled out two more coins and placed all four in the dockmaster's hand. Then he held up a fifth. “And this one is yours if no one other than us four goes near it without our leave. I come back in two weeks and find it still here and all of a piece, you can have it. Keen?”

The dockmaster smiled warmly, all chum and larder now. “Yes, of course, Captain…”

Red pointed to Hope. “There is the captain of the
Lady's Gambit
. Captain Bleak Hope.”

“At your service, Captain Hope,” said the dockmaster. “Let me know if there's anything you need.”

“Thank you, Dockmaster, I will,” said Hope gravely. When the man had left, she turned to Red. “Where did you get that money?”

“Could be I liberated a few from that bag before we left it to Prin in the cellar,” said Red. “And aren't you glad of it now?”

Hope shook her head, but she was fighting a smile. “Fine. It's too late now.”

“Sunny,” said Red. “Now, shall we go find ourselves an army?”

“Before you head off on this slippy plan of yours,” said Sadie. “You might want to consider filling your bilge and shutting your eyes for a bit.”

“The wisdom of years,” said Red.

Red wasn't sure how comfortable it would be for all four of them in Finn's wharf-side shack. But it turns out that when you've been trying to avoid death, both yours and others', for nearly two days without rest, you didn't much mind where you laid your head. Especially after a nice bowl of thick, hot fish stew.

So it was that he and Hope found themselves drifting off to sleep only an hour later as they lay on the shack's wood-planked floor. Sunlight streamed faintly through the wooden blinds over the one window. Sadie and Finn were outside, their conversation a lulling murmur in the background.

Red's eyes were beginning to close when he heard Hope's voice, soft and dreamy, say, “What did she mean about you not being born in the Circle? Nettles, I mean.”

“Because I wasn't.”

“Where were you born?”

“Silverback. But that's not really what she meant. My mother was from Hollow Falls.”

“I don't know New Laven well enough to know what that means.”

“It means she was a lacy from uptown.”

“And that's…bad?”

“Around here? Yeah.”

“She thinks that makes you privileged.”

“Right.”

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. “Are you?”

“I could read by age five. Most wags in the Circle never learn. That alone gives me more than an extra share of fortune.”

“So they resent you.”

“Nettles resents everybody. I don't take that too personally. Not anymore. But as long as I've been here, I've had to compensate for it. Show 'em I wasn't soft. That I could handle things. The only one who never doubted me was Filler.”

“And now…”

“Yeah. Seeing him walk away like that…I'd rather be punched in the bilge.”

“That's the trouble with having people you care about,” said Hope. “When you lose them, it hurts more than anything.”

They were silent for a while, interrupted only by Sadie's faint laughter outside.

“I feel I should warn you,” said Red. “I don't know Hammer Point near as well as Paradise Circle. It's never been my turf. So I won't be able to come up with any clever escapes while we're there, or call upon the help of local wags who owe a favor.”

“Then it's a good thing,” said Hope, her voice sounding on the verge of sleep, “you have other useful qualities.”

“You mean my undeniable charm?”

“I meant your impeccable aim.”

“Ah. Well. Yeah.” He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “You
do
think I'm charming, though, right? Hope?”

But she had drifted off to sleep.

19

T
hey started out that night for Hammer Point. As Hope understood it, they were only going to the next neighborhood over. However, the gruff but heartfelt good-byes between Red and Sadie made it feel as if they were about to cross the ocean.

Now, as Hope and Red made their way through the streets lit with flickering gaslights, she noticed that he seemed on edge. His usual jaunty, carefree attitude felt forced. While Hope walked down the rough cobblestone streets with regular, even strides, he skipped, weaved back and forth, and at times even walked sideways, as if he couldn't regulate his own pace.

“Is it really so different in Hammer Point?” she asked.

He shrugged, his eyes darting all over. “For you? Probably not. One urban Northern slum looks like any other. But for me, it's very different. Different buildings, different people, different ways of doing things.”

“Have you ever been there before?”

“Once or twice.”

“What were you doing there?”

He grinned. “Nothing good.”

“Should we expect an unfriendly welcome?”

“There's no such thing as a friendly welcome in Hammer Point.” He picked up a few pebbles and threw one, knocking over a small bucket thirty feet ahead of them. “They have a saying there, ‘It's hardest in the Hammer.' And as far as I can tell, that's true.”

“Worse off than Paradise Circle?”

“Oh yeah. See, Deadface Drem may be a murdering, cold-blooded cock-dribble, but he keeps the Circle unified and orderly. There's no one like that in Hammer Point. Big Sig is the strongest right now. But it's always a hard scrabble between his gang and three or four others. Not even the imps can keep order in a place like that.”

“If Big Sig aligns himself with us, could it be enough to tip the balance of power in his favor?”

“That's what I'm hoping he'll decide,” said Red. “Or he could decide that allying himself with us will only twist up the alliances he already has.”

“If that is what he decides?”

“Then he'll kill us.”

“He'll try.”

Red smiled. “I love it when you earn your namesake.”

Hope wasn't sure exactly when it happened. But she gradually became aware that the streets around them were different. The cobblestones were not only filthy, but often cracked or broken. The buildings, too, seemed damaged, as if they'd been through a war. Shattered windows, splintered doors, chunks of stone and brick taken clean out of a wall. There were no streetlights either. The whole place was cast in gloom.

“We're in Hammer Point, aren't we?” asked Hope.

Red nodded. He was no longer bouncing around, but instead walked at her side, keeping perfectly apace. His hands were loose but ready at his sides, and his gaze scanned ahead of them.

“Do you have something that resembles a plan?” asked Hope.

“I know where to find Big Sig. The only trick is getting there without someone trying to roll us.”

“How likely do you think that is?”

“Not very.”

In fact, they were able to get several more blocks before three men stepped in front of them from an alley, and two more stepped out behind them.

“Good evenin', lovebirds. Going for a stroll, are we?” said one in a ragged top hat.

“Think they may have gotten lost,” said another with long hair past his shoulders.

“Maybe,” said a third with a thick scar on his cheek, “after we get what we want, we should show them the way home.”

“That'd be real neighborly of us,” agreed Top Hat. “'Cept I haven't seen them in our neighborhood. I know I'd remember this Southie slice.”

Hope turned to Red. “Do they think they're going to rob us?”

“Appears they do,” said Red.

“It hardly seems worth the effort,” said Hope. “Are they even armed?”

“Oh, we're armed alright, you mouthy little slice,” said Scar. He drew a small knife that looked more useful for buttering bread than combat. The rest produced similarly pathetic weapons: a wooden club with a nail protruding from one end, a broken bottle, a brick, a leather sack filled with rocks.

“Be serious.” Hope began to walk, not slowing as she drew closer to them.

“That's it!” yelled Scar as he took a swipe with his knife.

Hope caught his wrist and twisted it so that he was forced to bend forward. At the same time, she brought up her knee into his face. With her free hand, she backhanded her fist into Top Hat's ear, sending him reeling. She let Scar drop to the cobblestones, and kicked Long Hair square in the chest, knocking him to the ground, gasping for air. Then she continued walking.

Behind her, Red said cheerfully, “You see how it is, my wags. The lady likes things just so.”

The sound of rapid footfalls told her the remaining two had bolted.

Red caught up with her. “Out of curiosity. Why didn't you take out your sword? You could have killed all three in one swing, I bet.”

“Killing unarmed, untrained people would have been an insult to the Song of Sorrows.”

“Sorry. The song of what?”

“That's the sword's name.”

“You named your sword? I mean, it's a great sword, but—”

“I didn't name it. This sword is centuries old, made with ancient arts lost to time. It was named long before either of us were born.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is a privilege to wield this blade. One that I hope someday to prove I am worthy of.”

“You aren't yet?”

“No,” said Hope. “I haven't done anything truly worthy of it.”

“So how did you get it? I
know
you didn't steal it.”

“It was entrusted to me by my teacher. Just before he was murdered by his own brothers for teaching me the secret Vinchen arts.”

“Why in hells did they do that?”

“Because it is forbidden to teach those arts to a woman.”

“Why?” asked Red.

Hope glanced over at him, but judging by his expression, he genuinely didn't understand. “Because women aren't supposed to participate in such things.”

Red frowned. “Why not?”

“Because…I don't know, that's how it's always been.”

“Maybe elsewhere,” said Red. “But here, being a tom or a molly don't matter much. If you can fight better than the next, that's all the argument you need.”

Hope tried to remember how it had been in her village. “When I was very young, before I was taken in by the Vinchen monks, I lived in a small fishing village. I don't…remember a lot. But I know my mother did work. It was a hard life, but equally so for everyone, I think.”

“So it was those Vinchen who put this idea in your head? Were the boys there so much better than you?”

“No,” said Hope. “I only fought one, but he wasn't much of a challenge. And I'd seen the others in their practice, and none seemed to possess any skills I did not.”

“Do you know what I think this is? Pure lacy nonsense. That's how they do it uptown, too. The men work, the women act all helpless. Load of balls and pricks. Downtown, everybody has to pull their weight. A molly does what she likes and a tom respects her for that.”

“I like that way of thinking,” said Hope. “Perhaps in some ways, things
are
more civilized here.”

They didn't get waylaid the rest of their walk. Hope wasn't sure if it was coincidence or if word had spread that quickly.

“Well, here we are,” said Red, stopping before an unmarked warehouse. The windows glowed with light, and the sound of talking, laughter, and occasional yelling came from inside. He scrunched his nose up. “Doesn't look like much.”

“You've never been here before?” asked Hope.

Red shook his head. “Used to know a wag from Hammer Point. He told me about this place.”

“What happened to him?” asked Hope.

“Disappeared one night. Nobody knew for sure, but folks whispered it was biomancers.”

“Here?” asked Hope.

“Mostly uptown,” said Red. “But sometimes they come down if they need fresh material. Or so people say. I knew this woman once. Little Bee's mom…” He shook his head. “Anyway, it's hard to know for sure what's true and what's gossip.”

Hope had thought to leave New Laven after avenging Carmichael. But if there were biomancers gathered further uptown, she might need to stay longer. She wondered if Red would follow her there as well. She found herself hoping, selfishly, that he would.

“I guess we should knock or something.” Red pounded on the door with his fist.

A moment passed with only the muffled sounds from inside. Then a narrow slat opened in the door, and a suspicious pair of eyes peered out. “What do you want?”

“To see Big Sig.”

“Yeah. And what makes you think you'll get to do that?”

“This does.” Red flashed a gold coin in front of his eyes. That was
another
coin he'd taken from the bag meant for the barmaid. Hope thought she'd watched him carefully when he'd put it down, but clearly his dexterous fingers were put to use for more than just throwing blades.

The eyes looked less suspicious now. “Alright.”

The slot closed and the door swung open. A gaunt man with a pistol was on the other side. No revolvers for Big Sig's men, Hope noted.

“Very kind, my good wag,” said Red as he tossed him the coin.

The man caught it and held it up. “This gets you in the building and past me. But it doesn't get you in with Sig.”

“Does it get me a tip on how I might arrange a friendly talk with him?” asked Red.

“He likes to play stones. There's a bunch of wags playing right now. You show yourself to have some skill, he'll probably want to play you.”

“Is that so?” Red flexed his fingers, his red eyes glittering. “It happens I do have some small skill at the game.”

The man pocketed the coin. “Well, good luck to you, then.”

“Oh, there's very little luck involved.” Red gave a quiet chuckle that sounded almost sinister.

They walked through a short hallway and into a large open space. It was mostly bare, except for ten tables spaced evenly in the center. Two people sat across from each other at each table. Hope didn't know how to play stones. She'd seen some of the crew playing on the
Lady's Gambit
, but she hadn't taken enough interest to try to figure out its rules.

Off to one side, next to a stone fire pit, was a man sitting in a chair with a metal lockbox. Red walked over to him and held up yet another coin. “Pair me up the next game.”

The man looked warily at him. “Not seen you around before.”

“Just got here,” said Red.

“Main rule is no drawing a weapon, even if you lose. Big Sig don't take kindly to rudeness in his gaming hall.”

“You don't have to worry about me, my wag. Especially since I don't lose.”

“That so?” The man grinned. “Then maybe it's time you met Greeny Colleen. She's been pining for a respectable challenge.”

“I'm not respectable, but I promise you, I am a challenge.”

“Last table on the right.” The man traded the coin for a wooden chip. “She should be cleaning up the current salthead in just a minute.”

Hope and Red stood watching as a small, frail-looking woman of about thirty played with an older man.

“I don't really understand this game,” Hope whispered to Red.

“Each player starts out with twenty stones. You take the remaining ten stones from the set and line them up across the table. Now, each stone has a number from zero to nine on it. The idea is to get rid of all your stones. If you have the next number up from one in the center, you can put it above it. If you have the next one down, you can put it below it. Or if you have the same, put it on top. But once you start that row, either up and down or on top, you can't change it. Unless you take them all away again from that row and start back with just the original stone.”

“Why would you take any back if you're trying to get rid of them all?”

“Because if you run out of stones you can put down, you
have
to start picking them up until you can put one down again.”

“Still, it doesn't seem too complicated.”

“That's just the general idea. Things get interesting when you start to bridge between two or more rows by adding, subtracting, multiplying, or dividing the numbers.”

“Math?”

He shrugged and looked away. “It's a hobby of mine.”

That morning, before they'd gone to sleep, Red had mentioned that his “lacy” background made him privileged. But rather than be proud of his ability to read, or his interest in math, he seemed embarrassed by them.

“But how does that work?” pressed Hope. “It's a fairly small number of options to work with if the answer must be in single digits.”