Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 (13 page)

W
ren had
a thousand questions running through his mind, but he’d been afraid to ask any of them since they’d hidden from the men near the gate. It seemed safest to keep the silence, even though he wasn’t sure if Haiku was wanting it or not. They’d walked a good twenty minutes or so without speaking, with Haiku leading him on a twisting and broken path. The older man changed their pace frequently, sometimes moving casually, other times with urgency and still others stopping altogether. It was an odd, rhythmless way to travel, but Wren had experienced something like it before. Three had had a similar way of moving through the landscape. Though, maybe similar wasn’t quite the right idea. Haiku’s movements, the way he scanned the environment, the broken rhythm, they were uniquely his own. But when taken all together, there was an underlying foundation that the two men shared. Like two painters who had studied under the same master, each unique expressions of another artist’s influence.

Unlike Morningside, where crowds of people had roamed freely outside the wall during the day, Greenstone’s populace seemed hesitant to stray too far out. There wasn’t really much traffic to or from Greenstone even on the busiest of days, but there were even fewer travelers who would brave the winter months in the open. The byways through which they traveled were empty and undisturbed by any signs of recent travel. Every once in a while Wren heard a distant scuffle or scrape, some unknown source of movement that could have been from their pursuers, or from the wind, or merely from his imagination. Haiku seemed unconcerned by them, or at least no more concerned by them than he was by anything else.

“The men in Greenstone,” Haiku said after a time, and Wren jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. He looked up at the man. “Do you have any guess as to who they might have been?”

Wren shook his head. “Not really, no,” he said. “I’d never seen them before.” But a moment later, he added, “Except...” and then trailed off, as something from his subconscious bubbled up. He hadn’t thought about it at all before, and hadn’t even been consciously thinking about it now. But somewhere inside, his mind had done its own work and suddenly presented him with the idea.

“Oh,” he said. “I wonder if they were the Bonefolder’s guys.”

Haiku nodded once, as if he’d already suspected it. Wren wondered if the man had been looking to him for confirmation, or if he’d already known it himself and was merely testing Wren’s observations. It was hard to escape the thought that Haiku had been evaluating everything he did since they first met.

“How far out do you think they’ll continue to look for us?”

“I don’t know,” Wren said. “I don’t know what they wanted.”

“What do you
think
they wanted?”

Wren was quiet for a few seconds, and then answered, “Me.” Haiku dipped his head again in that same ambiguous gesture. “But I don’t know what for.”

“The Bonefolder has a long memory.”

“You know her?”

“Of her,” Haiku said. “Though it would be difficult not to.”

“Did we lose them?” Wren asked.

“Not exactly,” Haiku answered. Wren felt a wave of anxiety rise up, and he glanced back over his shoulder. He’d thought for sure that the men were nowhere around. “Don’t worry, they’re not following us,” Haiku said. “We’re following them.”

“What?” Wren said. “Why?” He asked the question without really wanting to know the answer.

“How can we be certain to avoid them if we don’t know where they are?” Haiku said. Then he looked down at Wren with a slight smile. “I thought they would have given up by now. Let’s go see what they want.”

Haiku’s pace and posture changed immediately, and he strode forward with a boldness that Wren hadn’t seen from him before. They moved quickly through the alleys and avenues, and Wren had to walk fast with the occasional jogging step to keep up. He couldn’t tell what it was that Haiku was seeing, or how he could possibly know where the other men had gone. But after maybe two minutes Haiku led him out of a narrow lane between two buildings and there, twenty feet away, stood the man in the brown coat and his lanky companion, headed away from them.

“Gentlemen,” Haiku said. The two men were startled by the sound of Haiku’s voice, and they twisted around, searching for the source. They both looked plenty surprised when they saw who had called them. Browncoat already had his weapon out from under his coat, the first glimpse Wren had of it. He hadn’t seen anything quite like it before; it was a narrow cylinder, sleek and very dark blue almost to the point of black, and just a little bit shorter than the man’s arm. Browncoat held it towards the end, where it tapered into a grip. A stunstick, maybe, though if so it was bigger than any Wren had seen previously.

“We all seem to be headed the same way,” Haiku said, continuing his approach. Wren trailed along behind him, gradually allowing the distance between them to open up. “Perhaps we should walk together.”

Browncoat and his friend exchanged a look.

“Well yeah,” Browncoat said, and he lowered his weapon to one side, just next to his leg. Not quite hiding it, but maybe trying to make it less conspicuous. “Sure. Where you folks headed?”

“Oh, you know,” Haiku said. “Out that way.” Wren had fallen back about twelve feet behind Haiku, so he couldn’t see his face. But it sounded like he was smiling. He walked right up to the two men, no more than arm’s length away, and stopped.

“Well,” said Browncoat. “You’re welcome to tag along as you like.”

“As long as you’re not headed back to Greenstone,” Haiku said. Browncoat’s friend flicked his eyes to Browncoat, but Browncoat kept his eyes on Haiku and just shook his head. The friend settled back a step, just to Haiku’s right.

“Naw, friend. We’re just leaving there.”

Haiku nodded. “Sure. I just thought maybe you might need to get back to the Bonefolder.”

Browncoat smiled. Wren reached under his coat and drew his knife.

In the next instant, Browncoat’s friend shot forward and wrapped his arm around Haiku’s neck in a chokehold, spun him, and then jerked him backwards. Browncoat whipped his weapon up and held it an inch below Haiku’s chin. The weapon emitted a menacing hum, like a swarm of hornets. It all happened so fast, so smoothly, that Haiku hadn’t even had time to react. He was caught fast between the two of them, his hands by his waist and held out to the sides in surrender. Wren gripped his knife tight in his fist in a reverse grip, the blade along his forearm, and held it down by his side. If they came for him,
when
they came for him, he didn’t want them to see the knife before they felt it.

“You seem like a pretty smart fella,” Browncoat said to Haiku. “I’m sure you got this all figured out, but just so we’re clear, we’re just taking the kid. We don’t have no problems with you, and we don’t have to. You just keep right on walking like you were. No problems.”

In the flurry of action, Haiku had gotten turned to the side, so Wren could see the faces of all three men. Haiku seemed perfectly relaxed. Maybe even a little amused. He still had a slight smile on his face.

“I certainly don’t want to upset the Bonefolder,” Haiku said.

“Like I said,” Browncoat answered. “Smart fella.”

“So it
is
the Bonefolder then,” Haiku said. Browncoat’s eyes narrowed and he frowned a little at that. “Unfortunately, we
do
have a problem then. I’m taking this boy to someone else, you see, and I don’t want to upset that someone else either.”

“Don’t think you got much say in the matter, friend.”

“What if we split him?” Haiku said. “Then we wouldn’t have to argue. I’ll even let you have first pick of halves.”

“We’re taking the kid. Only choice you got is whether you walk away or don’t.”

“Oh, come now,” Haiku said. “I have many more choices than that.” And then his smile went away. “Eyes, for example. Knees. Or hands, perhaps.”

“What?”

“Tell you what. I’ll let
you
choose. Eyes, knees, or hands.”

“You uh... you taking the kid to a chop shop?”

“Oh, no no,” Haiku said. “We’re talking about you. Of those three, which
one
do I allow you to keep?”

“Come on, Rook,” Browncoat’s friend said. “Just juice him and let’s go.”

“Shut up, Grigg,” Browncoat, or Rook, snarled.

“He can’t, Grigg” Haiku said. “Not until you let go. Unless you want to get juiced too.”

Just as Grigg seemed to understand the problem, Haiku reached up casually and locked his grip on Grigg’s forearm and wrist.

“So which is it, Rook?” Haiku continued. He hadn’t raised his voice at all, or even changed its tone. He was still perfectly calm, perfectly relaxed. “Eyes, knees, or hands. You only get one. What’ll you keep?”

Rook just stared back at Haiku, eyes hard, jaw clenched. He was doing his best to look mean and in control, but even from where Wren stood, he could tell all the man’s confidence had melted away. Haiku gave it a few beats, and then smiled again.

“Of course, you could just walk away. Tell the Bonefolder you got held up by the Greenmen at the gate, long enough for us to get away. She might be disappointed, but at least you’ll have your health.”

Rook moved the weapon from under Haiku’s chin up to right in front of his face and said “You look here–”

“No,” Haiku barked in a loud voice. Rook flinched at the sound, and Haiku hunched down slightly and Grigg made a sound like he was on fire. Then Haiku stood straight again and Grigg went skidding backwards about eight feet and fell on his backside. Haiku brought his hand up in a half-circle and made a little loop with it, and Wren was still trying to figure out what had happened when he realized that Haiku had the weapon now. He hadn’t even moved that fast. But Rook was standing there eyes wide with the business end of his own stick so close to his left eyeball it looked like it might be touching his lashes.

“Eyes, knees, or hands, Rook,” Haiku said. Rook didn’t make a sound or even blink. Grigg was still sitting on the ground, afraid to make a move. Then Haiku smiled his slow, wide smile. “Or you can walk away.”

Rook didn’t stir at first, but after a few seconds he held his hands out to the side and took a cautious step backwards. When Haiku didn’t react, he took another step back, and then another.

“See,” Haiku said. “We’re both smart fellas.”

Rook glanced over at Wren. “Ah ah,” Haiku said sharply. “Best take the long way around.”

Rook worked his jaw, but it was obvious any fight he thought he had in him was gone. Haiku stepped to one side and motioned at Grigg to get up. Grigg did so, awkwardly, and limped his way over to Rook.

“No hard feelings, gentlemen,” Haiku said. “I’m not a man of grudges.”

“We’ll be seeing you,” Rook said.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Haiku answered.

Rook scowled at that last retort, but apparently couldn’t come up with one of his own. He backhanded Grigg in the arm and the two of them slunk away. Haiku stood watching them until they were some distance away, and then finally returned to Wren, switching off Rook’s weapon as he did so.

As he drew near, he said, “I assume you can contact jCharles?”

Wren nodded. “I can send him a pim.”

“You may want to let him know about the Bonefolder.”

“OK,” Wren said. And he was about to go internal and request the connection when he noticed Haiku’s face change to an expression of mild concern, or maybe rebuke.

“Well now, little one,” he said. “What were you planning to do with that?”

He nodded towards Wren’s side. It took a moment before Wren understood. He looked down at his hand, where he was still gripping his knife.

“I thought we might be in some trouble,” Wren said.

“Oh, well, that was nothing for anyone to get hurt over,” Haiku answered. “Those poor boys were just doing as they were told. They didn’t know any better.”

“If you didn’t want to fight them, why didn’t we just avoid them?”

Haiku looked at him for a moment and a kindness came into his eyes. “We have a long road ahead. I thought you’d sleep easier knowing these fellows weren’t going to be a problem.”

“I thought we’d already lost them.”

“Thinking and knowing aren’t the same. You can run away from a thing, Wren, but as long as you’re thinking of it, you haven’t truly escaped it. And now you know for sure.”

He motioned towards the knife. “May I see it?”

Wren nodded and held the knife out grip first for Haiku. The man took it with care and held it, turned it over a couple of times, felt the weight, the balance.

“It’s a fine blade,” he said. He flipped it around and returned it in the same manner as Wren had presented to him. And then he smiled again, the same, almost sad smile Wren had seen back in the Samurai McGann when they first met. “I recognize the work.”

Wren returned the blade to its sheath in his belt under his coat, and Haiku nodded westward. The two fell back into step. Their pace was much smoother now, steadier. Wren pimmed jCharles and briefly explained the encounter with Rook and Grigg. Apparently jCharles knew who the two were and had even seen them nosing around the day before. He apologized several times and said Wren wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that happening again. He didn’t explain and Wren didn’t ask. They said their goodbyes again, and then Wren returned his focus to the journey at hand.

After a few minutes of walking, Haiku stopped Wren with a gesture, and then crossed over to the other side of the street. There was a four-story building there, largely crumbling like its neighbors. Haiku stood a few feet from it and looked up to the higher windows on the upper floors. Wren couldn’t tell what he was looking at, or looking for. He couldn’t see anything special about it that should draw his attention. Then, in a swift motion, Haiku pitched the weapon he’d plucked from Rook’s hand, and it sailed up and through one of the broken-out windows on the third floor. It landed with a ringing clatter, went quiet, and then sounded again with another, more muffled impact, possibly lower down in the building. Haiku returned looking satisfied, and motioned to Wren to carry on.

“Hopefully no one will go looking in there,” Haiku said. “But if someone does, I hope it’s a good guy who really needs it.”