Endurance (35 page)

Several hours later, I was off through the streets. My clothes were still damp from the swift, cheap dye job, and I had best not sit on any pale furniture for a while. At least I had something sturdy to work in.

Even so, my clothing bore its disadvantages. The Velviere District was no place to walk around looking as if one advertised for work as a housebreaker. Likewise, because of the wide lawns, roof-running was useless here. I needed the crowded parts of the city, narrow alleys, with little bridges where barrels or bales passed over traffic from one warehouse to another. There I could take to the roofs once more.

So I found them. Once I'd scrambled up a black iron drainpipe, I felt much safer. Atop a red-tiled roof that sloped down toward Theobalde Avenue, I crouched and watched the street.

My sense of being followed tingled. This was the same feeling I'd had when I thought I'd spotted Skinless. I didn't see how Blackblood's shambling avatar could move through the daylit city unimpeded. On the other hand, if the twins were able to cloak themselves from the eyes of a god, it was logical enough that a god could cloak his minions from the eyes of men.

I studied the scene awhile. People walked with a bit of an edge, something disturbing their movements without interrupting them. As travelers along a country road might circle round the reek of a hidden corpse without ever quite knowing why. Horses, though, being essentially stupid, were much harder to fool. None of the teams being driven down the street would have anything to do with an alley mouth a block up from me. They shied, they bucked, they stopped.

Staring for a time told me little except that my eyes ached, which was not exactly news. Still, something was in there. I was pretty sure it stared back at me, for all that I was a curved shadow among some chimney pots. I was almost certain Skinless was below. So certain that I flicked a wave of my hand before bounding away.

The avatar was welcome to try following me over the roofs if he pleased. We were not Below this afternoon. This was
my
country now, the land of water tanks and air vents and lopsided little sheds scattered with empty bottles reeking of gin or wine.

I led a merry chase, not bothering to see if he was behind me. Likely enough both Skinless and Blackblood understood where I was headed. The twins' warehouse wasn't difficult to locate from above. I'd been in and out of there the better part of a week without taking great care to obscure my movements.

Spying within would be a greater trick, for the building lacked convenient windows. I was perfectly confident that I'd solve that problem soon enough. When I reached a rooftop across the street from my goal, I settled in behind a decorative false parapet and simply watched awhile.

Of course no one came and no one went. We'd used a side door that from this vantage I could barely glimpse in the narrow close between their warehouse and the next. A watchman's entrance, that bypassed the great loading doors fronting onto Theobalde Avenue. I studied the grimy mouth of the alley until I thought I could spot my own footprints leading in and out. A pretty muddle, mine mixed with several others. Had the Rectifier been here recently?

An hour passed quietly. No movement, no evidence of movement. That was fine. I'd expected nothing more. Then I slipped back across my chosen roof and detoured several blocks so I could approach the twins' warehouse unseen from behind.

I would have bet good money they had the doors warded, but the roof might have received lesser diligence. At a minimum, it would not be seen as such a danger. Iso and Osi had taught me something of passing by scrutiny, things I had not known for myself before. For example, a curving approach to a numinal boundary provided no angle for the magic to act against. As with any weapon, magic requires leverage. Likewise, holding power beneath your tongue or within your fists could distract a warding sigil.

It was hard to cross roofs in that fashion. I gave the process a try. One of the Eyes of the Hills fit into each hand as I stepped drunkenly along the roof of the building behind theirs. There was a gap of about eight feet. Their roof stood a few spans higher than the one I was on.

This was the first test. Could I make the jump without alerting the twins either magically or through sheer misplaced balance? I patted my abdomen, whispered, “Not yet, baby dear,” took a deep breath, and sprinted into the leap.

My takeoff was perfect. I'd trained for this over the years, both with the Dancing Mistress and among the Lily Blades. My kick and follow-through, and the arc of my jump, were all as should be. My mistakes were being over half a dozen pounds heavier and off my usual center of balance.

Feet scrabbling, I struck the edge of the opposite roof shins-first. Momentum brought my torso past the edge but I muffed the fall trying to protect the baby. It was a flat roof, and so I did not immediately slide off, but two of the half-rounded tiles on the edge did. They landed in the narrow space four storeys below with a shattering crack that betrayed my presence.

Forcing myself to move against the intense pain in both shins, I rolled all the way onto the roof, tucked flat and small. All I could do for a while was breathe, deep and hard. If Iso or Osi had thought to check just then I would have been a dead woman.

I had not blown a jump like that since … well, ever. I'd done better in my first childhood sallies with the Dancing Mistress. Shamed, I took a few more moments to collect myself. Flecks of snow eddied across the sky, dotting me with tiny, frozen kisses as I lay curled around my regrets and tried to will my legs back into motion. The damp of my borrowed clothing threatened to turn to clinging ice.

Bless you, winter,
I thought. I'd always hated the cold. My old loathing was sufficient to get me moving again.

I stumbled to my feet, slipped the Eyes of the Hills back into an inner pocket, and went in search of a skylight or a stairway down.

*   *   *

Eventually I was confronted with the prospect of dangling from the building's front and slipping through one of the fourth-storey windows that let into the offices within. Had there been a ledge? I tried to recall that much detail from my earlier observations. After the ugliness of my missed jump, I lacked my usual confidence in such maneuvers. The alternative was to climb back down and walk in the side door.

That appealed even less.

I waited for a lull in the traffic below—most people don't look upward as they go about their business, but it only takes one—then slipped over the cornice along the street facing.

Ledge!

This time I was very careful of my balance, and managed to slip into the second window I tried. The small office within was vacant, furnished only with scattered junk and scraps of paper. Not even the rats had found anything to do here.

Now to creep fog-soft until I could listen downstairs. My shins still ached terribly, and I worried about how well I could hold a silent position, but I was committed to my course. With overdone caution I crept along the upper hall. I was wary of canary floorboards singing out my steps. Stairs carried me down to a landing on what would have been the third floor, in the ceiling of the cavernous warehouse. I was able to cautiously observe Iso, Osi, and the Rectifier crouched around a much larger and more elaborate version of their earlier diagram.

He
was
here. Now, how to get him away. I'd figured earlier that if I found the old pardine, my chances of walking out free and intact were much better than being caught alone with Iso and Osi. The question was whether I was willing to put that theory to the test.

Or I could create a distraction and meet later, after I'd separated the Rectifier from the twins. Setting fire to the building suggested itself. But I doubted I'd fool any of those three. Likely I'd create larger problems that I might later regret.

Such forethought still felt odd to me, but I had a child to consider now. Though I did not realize it then, finally I was coming into a measure of wisdom.

I was cold, I was tired, and my legs were killing me. The direct approach held a stronger appeal with every passing minute. Seizing the initiative, I clomped down the stairs, shouting out a greeting as I went and wishing I had something of the pardine language.

*   *   *

All three of them looked up, startled at my approach. At least I'd gotten into the building unnoticed. I knew the significance of me entering from
upstairs
would not be lost on either my newfound enemies or my old friend. “Rectifier,” I called out. “We must be away now.” I nodded to Iso and Osi. “Gentlemen. Always a delight to see you.”

The twins flowed into a stance that once more suggested violence, with the muscular aura of a fighting pose. The Rectifier simply stood, shrugged, and extended his claws. I knew what that meant. With luck, the other two did not.

“Green,” Iso called back to me as I reached the floor. I briefly lost sight of them through the jumbled maritime supplies, which should have scared me, but I trusted the Rectifier. I
had
to.

“Welcome,” his brother said. I realized from the cast of his voice that the two of them were on the move.

“Hold,” rumbled the Rectifier, but I could not tell to whom he was talking. Hopefully not me. Palming both my short knives, I vaulted up onto a stack of spars covered by cargo nets.

Osi's head bobbed about two rods to my left, beyond several hummocks of crates. I could not see Iso. The Rectifier stared at me from a position almost directly in line with the side door. His ears flicked back once, he nodded, then he ducked.

He
was
on my side, then. I'd hoped to bluff my way out of here, but it appeared we'd be playing blade tag for our exit rights this afternoon.

This I could do.

A quick, short leap to a pile of deck grates, which shifted beneath my weight. I swiftly rolled off the back down into a little grimy walkway between the grates and a row of coiled hawsers. That had made some noise, and left a spiral of dust. I kept rolling into a space between two coils and slid backwards.

Silent for a five count, I heard footsteps moving very softly. A saffron-clad leg passed so close I could have stabbed a calf. Instead I tossed a piece of nautical debris, some chunk of brass, over my shoulder so that it sailed back toward the stairs with a clatter.

The twin, whichever he was, slipped onward quickly. I wriggled out and followed him.

“Green,” someone whispered, but not from behind me. I checked. I slid around the next corner to come upon either Iso or Osi craning their neck to look over into the next narrow walkway.

Flipping my remaining short knife around handle-first, I struck him hard at the base of the skull. He collapsed. The other brother shrieked nearby, then cursed in a language I did not recognize. At least I assumed it was cursing, from the tone and volume.

I had finally touched one of them after all.

The Rectifier roared, something shattered, and more cursing erupted.

I bent to cut this one's throat when I heard the pardine shout out, “Do not kill them, Green. Leave with me now.”

Point against skin, I stopped. Did I trust him? These men were dangerous, hideously dangerous. But the Rectifier knew
something
, or he would not have spoken so.

I patted the fallen twin's cheek instead. My fingers trailed along his papery skin. Let him cleanse himself of my feminine depravity. Still, being a Lily Blade, I also left behind a single ruby drop beading the twin's neck as my calling card before I raced swiftly toward the door. There I followed the Rectifier out into the late afternoon's snow flurries.

*   *   *

With a giant like the Rectifier alongside me there was small point in skulking, so we swaggered as if we owned the streets. A night of hard freeze—the season's first, if so—seemed to be coming on. That drove most people indoors earlier than usual. Still, dozens marked our passing.

I looked over my shoulder to see if we were pursued. Nothing behind us but the pale shadows of snow swirling through city air.

“We should go Below,” I told him. “It will be warmer, and we will be hidden.”

“Prefer the open air,” the Rectifier growled at me. “Underground is too far from the trees.”

He led me instead to a tiny bar off a grimy alley near the Dockmarket. No sign here, any more than the Tavernkeep's place was marked. Inside nine tables were drawn up knee-and-elbow distance apart. The ceiling was so low the Rectifier was forced to duck his head. The walls were crowded with broken weapons, rusted blades and shattered wooden poles—the aftermath of a battlefield or a dueling ground had been scoured to fit this place out. An odd assortment of characters lurked there, including a few more nonhumans. The world was vast, I knew, but where was the land of the very tall, very narrow-bodied blue-skinned man in pangolin-hide armor? His eyes were as mournful as last year's graveflowers.

I avoided his stare, and the stares of the others, while the Rectifier wedged us into a table at the back of the room.

“No one comes here,” he said against all evidence. The place smelled of sweat and ferment and the odd undercurrents of unfamiliar people. There was no fire, not in this room, just the close, stale of air being breathed by too many lungs.

“Why did you not let me kill them?” I asked, moving straight to the point.

“They were.…” His voice rumbled, a pardine word being swallowed. “Bound, I should say. And much older than you realize. They carry the same weight of time as gods may do. Slaying either brother by yourself would release enough power to kill you.”

I knew that effect perfectly well from brute experience. Accumulated power didn't simply leach away harmlessly into the air. “Fair enough,” I said, for again, I had to trust him. “But how will they be stopped?”

“Stopped from what?”

Feeling foolish, I answered, “Attacking Blackblood. I have declared myself their enemy. Surely my errand is of no account for them now.” Though abandoning my wrongful attack against Blackblood would just return the twins to the hunt for Desire's daughters. Including the Lily Goddess. Which was no improvement at all. I had laid quite a trap for myself.