CHAPTER

19

This right here was why Purna didn’t smoke saam on the reg—it made her either pass out or get paranoid, and neither one of those was conducive to a night out with your chums, nor to the bar fights that often resulted. What the deuce had even happened? To think an hour ago she’d been nervous about summoning up devils beside Sullen, and now he looked like he might be getting an even closer look at what lurked on the wrong side of the First Dark. He wouldn’t be the only one, either, if the mad mob from the tavern caught up with them. Hoartrap’s theatrical detonation of their leader’s head had sent the baddies scurrying, but from the rising clamor back at the burning building they might just be angry enough—and drunk enough—to come after them. They had a head start and were almost out of town, both good things, but then this was the only road through Black Moth and the Haunted Forest, so they wouldn’t exactly be hard to find.

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re in?” Hoartrap fumed, and it was unclear whether he was lecturing Sullen’s prone body, the random Raniputris who were carrying him, or all concerned. “Unbelievable. I just saved your skin, and this is what you do with it? Why in all the Star would you hang out in a tavern full of Crimson scouts, and Eyvindians at that! After what we did to them under Zosia’s command you would be hard-pressed to find a regiment who hates the Cobalts more than they do, and let me guess, you couldn’t help but mention your allegiances?”

“We didn’t even know they were Imperials!” snapped Keun-ju. “This wasn’t our fault.”

“You chaps said the boy stabbed him?” Digs asked the crew carrying Sullen’s bulk, a wildborn man to each arm, a mundane-looking woman to each leg, their leader with the face-ink and oiled beard necklace on one side and Keun-ju on the other with their hands stacked on his wound. “Whatever for?”

“They bumped each other,” said the leader, “and quick as a kiss, it was over. That boy looked in fear of his soul when he pulled the knife. Might have been on ugly bugs, who knows.”

“Best, did you see if—” Purna began, but then realized the woman was gone, and looking around saw her hightailing it back the way they had come. “Where’s she going?!”

“A distraction to slow pursuit?” guessed the Raniputri man.

“In practice if not design,” said Hoartrap, “which is better than I expected from the old girl, considering her refusal to take any first aid from Nemi or I.”

“I just knew that batty woman was itching to stick her spear in something,” moaned Digs. “I talked myself hoarse convincing her to leave it back at the church, because there’s nothing more gauche than a bloody bar fight—I should have been more specific that it was her potential poking-people-with-sharp-sticks that I objected to, and not her spear in particular.”

“A subtle distinction to be sure,” said Hoartrap, turning his surly mug toward the helpful Raniputris. “Also, by the by, just who the happy fuck are you scoundrels and why in all the Star are you risking your necks to save those of my miscreant apprentices?”

“Innocent bystanders who have little love for the soldiers of the Crimson Empire,” said the leader. “Your big friend here bought us a round just before he was shanked, so I vouched for him when the tavern looked to be turning on him … though to be frank I never anticipated matters escalating so quickly.”

“They have a way of doing that when we make the scene, and your assistance in effecting our exit will be richly rewarded,” said Digs, shaking the purse he had evidently recovered from Sullen’s pocket.

“Doin’ the right thing is its own reward,” said the stockier of the two women carrying Sullen’s legs, a great bear of a girl with a coat of dreads halfway down her back. “We’re just happy we found ya when we—fuck is that?!”

She let go of Sullen’s leg and went for her whipsword as a huge white shape bore down on them. The others would have dropped Sullen altogether if the great horned wolf hadn’t slowed and banked so they could all see the vardo it pulled, and Nemi jumping down from her riding board. The witch must have popped another restorative egg herself, fast as she was moving, and talking even faster as she threw open the door to her wagon’s interior and motioned them to bring Sullen inside.

“Lay him on the bed and I’ll see to him at once but we can’t stay here, so Diggelby? Can you drive Myrkur? On her own she’ll trot too fast and I can’t be bounced around while I’m working with Zeetatrice to manufacture a cure.”

“I can drive,” said Purna, though most of her experience on riding boards had actually involved passing the reins to Maroto so she could get comfortably plastered.

“You … you’re coming with us?” Nemi sounded hopeful as the strangers carried Sullen inside the vardo.

“She is not,” said Hoartrap, sounding just like Purna’s devildamned auntie declining an invitation to a yak race on her niece’s behalf.

“I’m my own woman, creep!” she told him.

“We have unclean powers to call upon,” said the Touch, his alabaster skin almost glowing in the darkness here on the edge of town. “And thanks to your ‘quick round at the pub’ we are running very short on time, as that light at the end of the street looks an awful lot like a burning tavern. I know from experience that burning taverns make for thirsty soldiers, and thirsty soldiers make for angry mobs. I’ll already have to adjust things since Sullen can’t take part, but if you or Keun-ju back out now there won’t be enough of us to summon the devils we need to see this thing through. And that means the Mighty Maroto is without his necessary reinforcements in the middle of Jex Toth, all so you could take the scenic route to Othean.”

“I have to stay with him,” said Keun-ju, stumbling back over from the wagon in a daze. “I promised Ji-hyeon we’d come back together. I promised her.”

“And I promised her we would strike a blow at the heart of Jex Toth and recover the missing Maroto,” said Hoartrap, his fluty voice hitting some rather strained notes. “Nemi, tell Keun-ju he can’t do anything to help Sullen.”

“That is true—I’ve stanched his bleeding for now, but until I am able to explore his wound I won’t know if even I can save him.” Giving Purna a meaningful look over the frame of her pince-nez, she said, “But whoever is coming, they are coming with us now. Where is Brother Rýt?”

“Speak of the bedeviled,” said Digs, and as he did a blur came out of the darkness, Best running full-out despite her wounds. She held Sullen’s spear in both hands, the blind monk clinging to her back. She didn’t even stop to address them, taking him straight to the open vardo, the gang who had carried Sullen parting to let her through. She deposited the shaky-legged Chainite on the top stair and, after a brief word and nod, handed him the black spear. The distant lights down the street looked even more ominous now; if the Eyvindian regiment hadn’t guessed in which direction their quarry had fled before, Best must have straightened them out on the matter.

“Well then, it is time,” said Nemi.

“Past time,” said Hoartrap. “I’m going back to the church to make the necessary alterations. Assuming I can count on the two of you to put the future of the fucking world ahead of your own raging libidos?”

“That is not what this is about!” said Keun-ju.

“Speak for yourself,” said Purna, giving Nemi a wink … and through the adrenaline and saam, the booze and tubq, she found herself faced with the crystal clear reality that as soon as she’d found a cute girl she was so into that even eggplay was hot, she was about to lose her. But if the Star fell she’d lose her anyway, so better to fight for a long future instead of trying to make the most of a short one. “Shit. All right, Hoartrap, we’ll be there.”

“We will?” Keun-ju looked as pale as Myrkur’s coat, Best coming over to join their huddle.

“Yeah, we will,” said Purna, hoping she came off braver than she sounded. “Nemi and Digs will take care of him, Keun-ju, and we’ll all meet up in Othean—after we’ve done our part to help the Cobalt Company and the Isles and the rest of the Star defeat the monsters of Jex Toth. This thing’s got to get done, man, and I’ll feel better if you’re with us.”

She knew it was a good pep talk but felt a tinge of guilt at her selfish motivations for wanting him along; raising devils and invading the Sunken Kingdom was bad enough, but doing it with just Hoartrap and Best would be too lame for words. From his unhappy face she saw she’d got him, and she told Hoartrap, “A little privacy? You get your devils in a row at the church and we’ll be there as soon as we say our goodbyes.”

“Make it snappy,” he said, and as he flounced off Purna noticed Nemi had been right: unless he deigned to address his former apprentice for some specific reason the big warlock pretended Nemi didn’t even exist. He did eye Diggelby, though, and said, “I’ll be seeing you soon, Pasha.”

“Not if I see you first,” Digs said brightly, and as soon as the hulking Touch disappeared into the darkness he added, “I really, really, really hope I always see him first. Horrible man.”

“Well, I guess this is it,” said Purna, trying not to let herself get choked up. Mad as she’d been at Diggelby’s refusal to come to Jex Toth if it meant binding devils, now it was all she could do not to bawl. They’d had each other’s backs from the beginning of this damn ballad. “Keep it classy, Pasha.”

“I’d tell you the same, but I know the word isn’t in your wardrobe,” said Digs, but then little streams began carving gullies in his corpsepaint and he threw his arms around her. In her ear he sniffled, “Safe roads guide you to her breast, Tapai.”

“Here’s hoping,” said Purna, looking over his shoulder at Nemi. “Both of them, with any luck.”

“That’s not the usual Prayer of Exodus, but it’ll do in a pinch,” said Digs, breaking off the embrace and waving Keun-ju in for more of the same. “You go cop a quick feel while you can, girl, and give Maroto a stern word for me when you find the bounder. Running off to Jex Toth and not inviting us along!”

“You can tell him yourself, in Othean,” said Purna, trying to believe that a happy reunion on a safe Isle was in their future, Maroto’s Moochers back together at last. Well, those who were still among the living. Then she hurried over to Nemi, who was just finishing up with Best.

“—And if my son lives, tell him I did not believe I could be more disappointed in his behavior, until I saw him cut down by a child.” Best didn’t turn as Purna approached, but said, “I shall leave you to your displays, now, and await our departure at the church. Good hunting, Nemi of the Bitter Sighs.”

“Good hunting, Best of the Horned Wolf Clan,” said Nemi with a curtsy, and then the dour barbarian stalked off into the night after Hoartrap. “And good hunting to you, Purna.”

“Thanks, Nemi, though I feel like I’m about to go the wrong way from the game I want to bag …” Purna looked at the witch’s pointy boots and savored that weightless buzz Nemi conjured in her heart.

“If you think I am the prey here you haven’t been paying attention,” said Nemi, the taller girl putting her arms around Purna and looking down into her moonlit face. “We’ve tarried too long and don’t have time for both words and a proper kiss goodbye, so which would you prefer?”

Purna grinned, and gave her the obvious answer … and was still giving it, fairly floating into her partner’s face, when Keun-ju returned from the vardo, having checked in on Sullen a final time. Breaking the kiss, Nemi said, “Until Othean, Purna.”

“Until Othean, Nemi,” said Purna, and then Keun-ju put his arm around Purna as they watched Nemi climb into the vardo and shut the door behind her. From the riding board Digs gave a wave and a whistle, and then Myrkur took off down the road, pulling their friends toward Diadem. They watched them go, then slowly started in the direction of the church … when the five strangers who had helped Sullen into the vardo hailed them, still standing in the shadows at the edge of the wooded track.

“Pray join us for a drink,” said their leader, “the tavern may be gone but we have the most crucial component in our jugs.”

“Sorry, friends, running late as it is and—” Purna’s sincerely regretful explanation died on her lips as the big, rough characters fanned out in front of them on the lonesome road. “Shit.”

“Our wine isn’t great, I’ll admit, but it’s not so bad as that,” said the man, sloshing his bottle at them as he stepped closer, his teeth shining like Myrkur’s horns in the light of the rising moon. “No need to make a rough night any rougher, Purna. We’re taking that smug face of yours all the way back to Harapok, that is not up for negotiation—the question is how we acquire it.”

“You know these people?” asked Keun-ju, leaning his hand on the pommel of his broken sword. He still carried both pieces in the scabbard, but it was as impotent a gesture as Purna resting her fingers on the grip of her unloaded pistol. Which she was also doing, because duh.

“I know their type,” snarled Purna; the one fucking time saam didn’t make her paranoid, this shit happened! “Bounty hunters. Sent by my family. I tried warning you back on the tavern porch something like this might happen.”

“The reward’s bigger if we bring you back alive,” said the man, moonlight playing on the drawn blades of two of his cohort, and the gun barrels of the others. “But since I’m guessing that doesn’t work for you, we can do this one of two ways.”

“Which one of them involves us going our separate ways with no harm done to either party?” asked Keun-ju, the kid having either a better sense of humor than Purna gave him credit for or a very naïve understanding of what was about to go down.

“The preferable one,” said the bounty hunter, taking a small box out of his long Raniputri frock coat and then setting it and the jug on the ground. “By the time we take your head clear back to Ugrakar it’ll be rotten past recognition. Which is why we’ll take a death mask as soon as we murder you, to present along with your remains.” Pointing two fingers at Purna he said, “Bang. You’re dead.”

Nobody said anything here in the outskirts, but back in the center of Black Moth the lights were growing brighter and the noise was getting louder.

“All right,” said Purna, thinking she had the angles of this and actually daring to get her hopes up. “That’s a good pitch, but forgive me if it sounds a little too good. Why stick your head out to protect mine?”

“Because I have a heart of gold and hate to shed needless blood,” said the man.

“And because you’re going to give us every coin in your purse,” added the bigger of the two women, her ringmail shimmering like scales as she rested her sword on her shoulder.

“I thought that went without saying, Saor, but I suppose it can’t hurt to spell these things out,” said their leader.

“Not that I am complaining,” said Keun-ju, “but would it not be safer for you if the head you collect on isn’t still attached to its owner? Surely it is perilous to secure payment when the object of your hunt still walks the Star, living proof of your perfidy.”

“Usually, yes,” said the man, backing up from the jug and the box he’d left in the street and sticking his thumb at the dog-eared wildborn with a harquebus trained on Purna. “But Orange Pazu here heard enough for me to be convinced there’s a better way for all of us to get out of this thing. Seeing as you’re apparently on an errand to summon some devils and go to the Sunken fucking Kingdom I don’t think I need to worry about you coming back to Harapok anytime soon … and if you mix up the fastmud in that box and make us a death mask we won’t have to worry about Hoartrap the Touch being sore on us for greasing his apprentice.”

Purna thought about it, but didn’t have to for long—her vengeance-minded aunt and uncle thinking she’d died could only be good for her health. Going for the box and the jug, she said, “Make sure you tell them I cursed their names to my last breath.”

“You can’t seriously trust them!” said Keun-ju as Purna squatted down and opened the box, rehydrating the pat of colorless mud with a few splashes from the jug. “What if it’s poisoned!”

“That would make a lot more sense than just shooting us, wouldn’t it?” said Purna, but just the same it took all the nerve she had to actually commit and apply the mud mask. Seeing as there was a pair of reeds in the box for her to stick in her nose and breathe through, though, she figured she wasn’t the first bounty to be offered this deal. They probably turned a pretty dinar, collecting once from the victim in exchange for a new lease on life, and a second time from their employer.

Sitting in the road, she plastered it on as the leader instructed, and while she couldn’t speak under the warming mud she could hear Keun-ju discussing the unusual weather with the bounty hunters … and the distant shouts from Black Moth growing louder, the scent of smoke creeping up the reeds in her nose. She hoped the fire hadn’t spread from the tavern; seemed like bad form to burn down a town without meaning to, the sort of activity better suited for villains than heroes. But then again, look at who she’d studied under.

The fastmud set, well, fast, and with some help from the Raniputri man it peeled off intact. He carefully set the death mask back in the box and stowed it in his voluminous coat. Keun-ju reluctantly passed over his purse, though there seemed to be more crumbs than coins in it, and after exchanging assurances that if either party saw the other again blood must surely flow and all that, they parted. Watching the bounty hunters back away into the dark trees on the edge of the road, she gave them a wave, and the Raniputri leader waved back, and then they were gone.

“That might just be the luckiest damn break I’ve ever caught,” Purna remarked as they headed down the road and then turned up the path through the brambles to the church. “I’d say it almost seemed too easy, except I don’t believe there’s any such thing.”

“I suspect they must be expressing a similar sentiment,” said Keun-ju. “But then they have no way of knowing you didn’t bother loading your cannon before going to the pub.”

“Or that your scabbard is as empty as your head! I might’ve run out of time to clean and prime my sidekick this afternoon, but at least I had the sense to buy powder and shot when I had the chance.”

“Even snapped in twain my four-tiger is a finer weapon than anything the Black Moth mercantile had to offer.”

“Snob.”

“Fair. Slobby fraud.”

“Fair,” Purna sighed. “I guess we should thank our natures—if we’d both had weapons at the ready we might’ve jumped into an avoidable fight, instead of talking things through. There’s a lesson there. The whole affair could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Not for me it couldn’t have,” said Keun-ju. “I am out of the last of my currency and I’m still burdened with your company.”

“We won’t need money where we’re going,” said Purna, too tired and heartsick from the unexpected awfulness of the night for the prospect of summoning devils and traveling through the First Dark to hold much sway over her anymore. “And hey, if you didn’t like the steel they had for sale you should have gotten your sword glued back together while we were in town. Then you could’ve cut down all those scalp speculators by yourself instead of relying on my consummate negotiator skills.”

“You cannot glue a sword back together.”

“Forge it back together, then. Reforge it. Whatever.”

“That is not how it works,” said Keun-ju. “My four-tiger is as broken as my heart, and one could no more bring the shards back together than Nemi could put my arm back on.”

“I try to be a patron of the arts, Keun-ju, I really do, but enough with the poetry,” said Purna as they came up to the glowing door of the church. “I know you don’t know your ass from your elbow, but confusing your heart with your sword with your arm, well, no wonder you sound so sour. Sullen’s going to be okay. He’s with Nemi, and if she saved him once she can do it again.”

“You think so?” Keun-ju stopped and looked back the way they had come, gazing out over the thorns and the tombstones, at the angry flare of Black Moth. The town was going up just like that Eyvindian officer’s head.

“I think we’d both rather be riding with our friends in that vardo so we could know for sure, but wishes are for those with devils to spare,” said Purna. “So let’s raise a little hell so we can raise a lot of harm on whatever it is out there in the darkness that’s standing between us and a happy reunion on Othean.”

And turning their backs on the firelit night, the two unlikely friends stepped through the hollow doorway of the ruined church on the overgrown hill. They never came out again.