20

Nettles wrapped her rough wool coat around herself more tightly. “I don’t like this, Red.”

“The ale tastes different here.” Filler wrinkled his nose at his tankard of dark.

“You two are my best wags, and you know it,” said Red.

“Do we?” Nettles glanced at Hope, the fourth and final person at the table.

“Of course you do,” said Red. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come with me to a tavern in Hammer Point.”

“It’s only just over the line.” Nettles said it like it didn’t matter, which was bludgeon because as they all knew, it did matter.

“Ale’s not as good on this side of the line,” pronounced Filler. The poor wag looked more uncomfortable than Red had ever seen him, shifting restlessly in his seat, a thin sheen of sweat at his temples. This was the first time he’d ever been out of Paradise Circle.

“All the same,” said Red, “I know I asked a lot for you to be here, especially after you made it clear that you didn’t want to help us take down Drem.” He spoke quiet and low. They were outside the Circle, and the Point of No Return wasn’t crowded. The taverns that bordered a neighborhood rarely were. But still, this was too grave to talk soundly on.

“Then what is it we’re doing here, if not helping you with that?”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Red couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. “You don’t need to say anything or even think anything. All you need to do is watch and listen.”

Nettles leaned forward. “And what is it we’re supposed to see and hear?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Big Sig has made some…accusations. He claims he can prove they’re true. Tonight, with you two as witness, we’ll see for ourselves.”

“You been reading them spy books again?” asked Nettles. “What’d I tell you about all that reading? Makes you soft in the head.”

Red was about to reply, but then he saw Greeny Colleen enter the tavern. Such a small, mousy thing, practically invisible. He almost missed her, and for Red, that was a rare thing.

She came over to the table and eyed Nettles and Filler suspiciously. “Who’re these two?”

“I need trustworthy types to vouch for me,” said Red. “If what Sig says is true.”

Colleen frowned. “It’ll be a tight squeeze. And you’ll be there for a while. The meeting isn’t for an hour, but we need to get you in there now.”

“We’ll manage,” said Red.

Colleen shrugged. “Come on, then.” She turned and headed toward the exit.

“You ready?” Red asked Hope.

“Hmm?” she said, blinking.

Red wasn’t sure why, but she’d been withdrawn lately. He hadn’t given it a lot of thought, though, because he’d been preoccupied himself while they were lying low down at the docks, sleeping on the Lady’s Gambit, and helping with repairs. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for days, waiting to listen in on this meeting. If what Big Sig said was true, it changed everything. But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “Time to go lurk. Your least favorite thing.”

“Oh. Right.”

As they stood up to follow Colleen, Nettles put her hand on Red’s arm. “You sure about this?”

“I promise you, Nettles. One way or the other, this is something we need to know.”

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“I already owed you for getting us down the chute a few nights ago.”

“That’s two, then.” Nettles gave him a tight grin. “Maybe I’m saving up for something special.”

Colleen led them out of the tavern and into the cold night air. It was turning to the wet season, bringing with it occasional hard squalls of icy rain. Red pulled his leather coat tighter around him. The rest of the group braced similarly. All except Hope, who seemed completely unaffected. Red wondered how cold it actually got in the Southern Isles.

“The leaders will come through the main entrance,” said Colleen as she led them around the side of the building. “They’re meeting in the back room. No windows and only one entrance, which will be guarded. But there’s a hidden crawlspace in the floor of that room, which you can enter from out here.”

The back of the tavern faced a dark alley, puddled with muddy water from the afternoon’s cold rain. Icy water seeped into Red’s boots as he scanned the back wall of the building. “I don’t see the entrance.”

“Of course not.” Colleen knocked on an old ale barrel that was propped up on the side of the wall. It reverberated with an odd echo. She lifted the lid. Red peered in and saw that a tunnel had been dug out beneath the barrel.

He grinned and turned to Nettles. “Spy stuff!”

“Who knows about this crawlspace?” asked Hope.

“Big Sig, of course. And Thorn Billy, another leader who’s allied with Sig. He knows you’ll be there.”

“Can we trust him?” asked Red.

“To keep quiet? Yes.” Colleen looked irritated by the question. “He doesn’t want to see Hammer Point turn into another Paradise Circle either.”

“What does that mean?” Nettles rolled her shoulder like she was warming up for a punch.

Colleen ignored her. “You’ll be able to see and hear what’s happening above from the crawlspace. Which means that if you move or make any sound, they’ll be able to hear you, too. And if they do, Sig will act like he’s never seen you in his life. He expects the same.”

Red caught her arm. “Thank you for this.”

She nodded, suddenly looking shy. “If you ever want a rematch on stones…”

He grinned. “I know just where to find it.”

She smiled and hurried away.

They contemplated the barrel.

“Filler, my old pot,” said Red. “You may lose a bit of skin in this venture.”

One at a time, they slipped through the barrel to the tunnel beneath, then shimmied on their stomachs for a few yards until the tunnel opened above into the crawlspace. True to its name, the space was so low that Red found he couldn’t get his belly more than six inches from the ground. They slid in one at a time, then awkwardly rolled onto their backs to stare up through the floorboards. The room above them was still dark, so it was difficult to tell how much they would actually be able to see.

“Don’t move, she says,” muttered Nettles beside him. “Like there’s any room to move.”

They were all mushed up together, lying side by side. Hope, then Red, then Nettles, and finally Filler. With his ex pressed up against him on one side and the celibate girl he could never have on the other, Red couldn’t quite decide if this was Heaven or one of the darker sort of hells.

“Don’t you go getting any ideas, there,” said Nettles, as if she could read his mind.

“I didn’t do anything,” protested Red.

“I know you, and you’re a leaky tom if ever there was one.”

“Furthest thing from my mind,” he lied. “But clearly, it’s on your mind. Who’s leaky, then?”

“Shut up, you two,” said Filler.

“Thank you,” said Hope.

The minutes dragged by as they lay in the darkness. Finally, someone came into the room with lanterns, hung them from the walls, and left. Once there was light, Red was surprised at how much he could see. It wasn’t perfect, of course. But it would be enough to see who was talking.

Several more minutes passed, and then four people entered the room. Red recognized Big Sig easily. There was also a short man with black hair that stuck out in many different directions like a hedgehog. Red assumed this was Thorn Billy. Those Hammer Point wags had a way of stating the obvious. With them was also an older woman with bone-white hair and an eye patch, and a man with skin even darker than Hope’s Captain Carmichael.

“Surprised you came, Sig,” said the woman with the eye patch.

“Heard this wasn’t one to miss, Sharn,” said Big Sig.

“I heard the same,” said Sharn. “Although no details as to why.”

“Has it crossed anyone’s mind that this could be a trap?” asked the dark-skinned man. He spoke with a faint accent.

“Of course, Palla,” said Sig. “My people have orders to let in no one except Drem and one…guest.”

“Yes, this mystery person who will supposedly change our minds,” said Billy.

The four gang leaders waited a little longer, talking quietly. Red wanted to chance a look at Nettles after they mentioned Drem, to see her expression. But he resisted, unsure if even that slight movement would draw attention. Even his breathing seemed ridiculously loud, and his chest rose and fell far more visibly than he’d realized.

Finally, the door opened and Drem entered. Beside him was a man in a white robe belted at the waist with a gold chain. His face was hidden in the shadow of his white hood. Red knew that this was the uniform of the biomancers, though he’d never seen one himself. Nettles gave a sharp intake of breath, but it was okay because much louder things were happening above them.

Palla, Sharn, and Billy were demanding that Drem explain himself, looking somewhere between offended and alarmed. Only Sig, his face stony, remained silent.

“Now, now, you bunch of gafs, don’t get all wobbly.” Drem held up his hands. “Just hear us out.”

“I’m not interested in anything that man has to say,” said Sharn, her one eye blazing with rage.

“Drem, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you are in the Hammer right now as our protected guest,” said Palla. “If we were to withdraw that protection, things would not go well for you.”

“Right you are,” said Drem. “Which is why I came here not as an enemy, but as a potential ally.”

“I’m listening,” said Palla, his eyes hard.

“Quickly, Drem,” said Sharn. “Say your speech.”

“Thanks, kindly.” Drem’s expression was oddly cheerful. “As you know, I control Paradise Circle without rival. This is partly through hard work and quality, and partly because of the biomancers.”

Despite his insistence on getting proof, Red had known in his gut that it was true. But the sadness that welled up in his chest, hot and sharp, the sense of betrayal that a true man of the Circle could sell them out like that, was more intense than he’d expected. He wondered what Filler and Nettles were feeling, getting the whole thing all at once for the first time.

“In exchange for their help,” Drem was saying, “the biomancers only want test subjects to work their trade on.”

“People, you mean,” said Palla.

“In the past, it’s only been one a month. Very reasonable, I say. But, things are changing.” He glanced at the biomancer.

The biomancer pulled back his white hood, and he looked so normal, so unremarkable, that Red wondered if he was a real biomancer or just someone Drem had dressed up to get a rise out of the Hammer Point leaders. But then he spoke, and his voice was like something dredged up from the bottom of the ocean, grimy and rough like barnacles.

“The safety of the empire is in peril from enemies beyond the Dark Sea,” he said. “The emperor has commanded that we increase our efforts to develop new weapons and strategies for defense. To do this, we need more test subjects for our research. You will provide them.”

“Like hells!” said Billy.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Drem gave the biomancer a look that said, Let me handle this. Then he turned back to Thorn Billy. “Here’s the length of it. We all come together, Paradise Circle and Hammer Point. Then we take Silverback. My friend here”—he gestured to the biomancer—“assured me this won’t be a problem. Then the five of us have complete control over half of New Laven. I’ll share the docks, you share the mills. Everything south of Keystown is ours to do with as we like. Sounds sunny, don’t it?”

Billy shook his head. “You want us to give our own people to the biomancers?”

“Come now, Billy, old pot,” said Drem. “Let’s speak crystal. We all know there are some people out there who are just useless bottom-feeders. The world won’t change a hair with them gone.”

“How many people are we talking about?” Palla asked the biomancer.

“The exact number may change over time,” said the biomancer. “Twenty per month to start should be sufficient.”

“Twenty innocent people every pissing month?” asked Billy. “I can’t believe any of you are even considering this.” He looked at each of them in turn. They remained silent. “Forget the scary bedtime stories. The biomancers are just people. Flesh and blood like us. They control through fear, intimidation, and the idle gossip of idiots.”

“Billy.” Sig laid a large hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the time for—”

“It’s exactly the time!” Billy shrugged Sig’s hand off. “We have to stop this now, before it goes any further. Before they destroy us all!” He turned desperately to the other leaders. None could meet his gaze.

“You misunderstand us completely,” said the biomancer, his low voice like an anchor dragging across coral. “You think us cold? Cruel? Unfeeling?” He shook his head sadly. “You were right before when you said that we are just people. We feel things deeply. We must. It is the curse of what we do. But while you only feel the small little corner of your small little neighborhood in your small little city, we feel the whole empire. We watch over it and care for it, just as it watches over and cares for you. Everything we are, everything we do, is given to this purpose. Can you not see this larger image?”

He placed his hand on Billy’s and squeezed. He had tears in his eyes, his expression pleading. Billy had clearly not anticipated such an impassioned response and stared at him in bewilderment.

“If you cannot see it,” continued the biomancer, “if you cannot feel as we do, perhaps it is you who are cold.” Then he turned away and walked back over to Drem.

The room was silent, the leaders all looking at each other uncertainly, even Big Sig. The only one who seemed unaffected was Deadface Drem. His expression was blank.

That’s when Red knew.

Billy suddenly shivered. “What is…”

His skin began to grow pale, the veins more pronounced—a spiderweb of blue that shot across his hands and face. His body grew rigid and shook. His eyes filmed over and turned to balls of ice. His black hair dropped from his head in chunks, and his fingernails dropped from his crooked fingers. He opened his mouth to scream, but his jaw cracked on one side so that it dangled from one hinge. His tongue was a dark frozen slab of meat that flapped up and down. Both jaw and tongue dropped to the ground and shattered. Guttural noises escaped from his mouth hole as his eyes slowly squeezed out of his sockets. The skin on his neck split, and first one arm broke off at the elbow, and then the other at the shoulder. Finally, his legs splintered and his body hit the floor, breaking into pieces. The chunks continued to shudder inside the clothes. Then everything was still.

Drem stepped forward, his face still expressionless. “We’ll give you a few days to think about it.”

*  *  *

“I’m trying to figure out the exact moment that my life went leeward,” said Nettles as she tossed a small crust of bread into the pond. Pale white fish with large, luminous eyes shot to the surface and gobbled up the bread. It was an underground pond and the fish in it didn’t often get bread crusts.

Red, Hope, Nettles, and Filler had gotten the all-clear knock from Colleen an hour after the Hammer Point leaders had left the room and someone had come in and swept up the frozen pieces of Thorn Billy. Red told Colleen he’d get in touch with Big Sig in a day or two. Then the four had returned to Paradise Circle.

It was Nettles who had suggested Apple Grove Manor. The place sounded lacy, because once, a long time ago, it had been. This was back when the city of New Laven was only uptown, and the entire downtown area was nothing but small farms and orchards. Apple Grove Manor had been the only building for five miles in any direction. A lone mansion in a sea of apple trees, all owned by the Bulmatedies family. But that had been centuries ago. The apple orchard was gone, the last of the Bulmatedieses dead. The only thing that remained was the manor house itself, a crumbling beauty allowed to persist as the cobblestone streets and ramshackle houses were built up around it.

Apple Grove Manor had been many things to many people over the years. A squat house for the homeless, a drug house for the addicts, a sex house for the whores. One optimistic businessman even tried to turn it into a respectable hotel and boardinghouse. That particular enterprise lasted only a few months. Customers complained of midnight hauntings and missing items, such as a left stocking or half the buttons on a jacket. The owner had even brought in a necromancer to clean it out, but it didn’t do any good. Within the year, the businessman gave up and moved back uptown to Keystown where he belonged.

The most recent tenant had been Jix the Lift, back before Drem used his innards as a cravat. Jix swore the whole time he and his crew were there, he never saw a single haunting or had the tiniest thing go missing. People said the house preferred a proper man of the Circle to an uptown lacy. It was easy to believe that. Like anything old and left too long on its own, the manor had grown strange. Among its many eccentricities was the fishpond in the basement.

No one knew how the pond got there or how it was filled with strange, ghostlike fish. Many muttered biomancer and steered clear, but many things were attributed to biomancers that probably shouldn’t have been. Some people didn’t like to think it, but the world was strange enough on its own and didn’t really need much help in that regard.

The basement was a large room, and the pond took up all of it. The only thing left above the waterline was the top row of storage shelves that were bolted to the walls. By dropping down from the hatch above on the ground floor, and sliding carefully along, one could circle the entire room. It was dark and damp and smelled like rotting algae. That, combined with the biomancer and ghost rumors, made it an unpopular spot to visit. Red and Nettles had come out of curiosity back when they were together. It became a special place for them during that time. Neither had been back since they split. So Red was surprised when she’d suggested it.

Now the four of them sat on the shelving, feet dangling above the dark water.

“Did my life go leeward when I met Red?” Nettles mused, tossing another bit of bread to the ghost fish.

“That’s when your life got interesting,” said Red. “But I see how you might confuse that.”

“Maybe it was when the angel slice showed up,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard.

“That’s a load of balls and pricks if ever there was one,” said Filler.

They all turned to look at him in surprise, even Hope.

“Why do you say that, old pot?” asked Red.

“What’s here ain’t none of her doing,” said Filler. “All she did was blow the dust off so we could see that there ain’t no Circle. Ain’t been one for a while.”

“You don’t mean that, Fill.” Nettles looked at him pleadingly. Like she wanted him to take it back.

“I mean it more than anything I’ve ever said in my life. I wish I didn’t, Nettie. But you saw the length of it. The biggest wag in Paradise Circle nothing but a pet monkey for the imps and biomancers. It makes me want to burn it all down. It would be better if it was nothing. Better than this lie.”

Red expected Nettles to argue. To disagree. But she didn’t say anything, so he turned to Hope. “What about you? You’ve been more quiet than usual.”

“It wasn’t him,” she said, staring into the black depths of the pond.

“Wasn’t who?”

“The biomancer. I hoped it would be the one I know. The one with the burn scar that knocked out all Big Sig’s teeth.”

“Why?”

She turned to him, then, and there were tears in her eyes. It took Red by surprise. Up till that point, he hadn’t been sure she was even capable of that kind of emotion.

“If there is one person in the world I long to kill more than any other, it is that man. The man who murdered my entire village.”

Again there was silence, broken only by the quiet splashes of the ghost fish sucking up the bread. Red wondered how the fish never fought over it. There wasn’t much to be had, and he was sure that many of them never tasted a single speck. Weren’t they mad? Didn’t they think it was unfair? No, of course not. Because fish were bludgeon as they came. He thought they were probably blind anyway. So most of them never even saw when there was bread to be had. He wondered how things would be different if they could see. If some of the fish at the very bottom suddenly had a big light they could shine up.

“Still, you wouldn’t be opposed to killing this biomancer, would you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Hope asked.

“Make you a deal. You help me not only take down Drem but this whole biomancer scheme, and I will help you take down this scar-faced biomancer of yours.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “The biomancer I want may not even be in New Laven anymore.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re getting ourselves a ship seaworthy as we speak.”

“Red, I don’t give or accept promises lightly.”

“You’re saying I do?”

Nettles coughed and raised an eyebrow at him. And Red had to admit that she had cause. He had a way of fudging things, of using the inevitable moral gray that came along with the hardscrabble life of the slums to his advantage. He generally liked it that way.

“I’m saying,” said Hope, her blue eyes sparkling, “that if we agree to this, and you break your promise, I will kill you. And I don’t want to kill you. So please, only make this promise if you truly mean it.”

The truth was, Red hadn’t been sure before how far he’d go with Hope on her quest to kill Drem. To be sure, she was the most fascinating molly he’d ever laid eyes on, celibate or no, and in theory, he’d agreed with her cause. But in the end, if things had gotten too hot for his liking, if it had come down to dying, he probably would have slid. He could admit that all to himself now because it wasn’t true anymore. The muddy gray was gone, and the choice before him was crystal.

“You heard the biomancer. Twenty true neighborhood wags every month just to start. And once they get that number, you don’t think they’ll bump it up to twenty-five? Thirty? Fifty people getting done like Thorn Billy every pissing month? There won’t be nothing left of us in a year, and they won’t even care.”

Red stared at the ghost fish and thought about shining a light into dark places.

“Bleak Hope,” he said finally. “If you help me save the Circle, I will follow you across the Dark Sea if need be.”

*  *  *

Red knew there were only a few places where one could talk to a large number of people at once. The biggest and most obvious was Gunpowder Hall. What he didn’t know was how to get everyone in the hall to stop eating and gambling and thieving and drinking and dropping coral spice and bending pricks and stretching cunts long enough so they would all listen to him. The chaos of the place made the idea laughable. Fortunately, Gunpowder Hall was not the only place neighborhood wags congregated. There was the Rag and Boards.

The Rag and Boards was not a tavern or gaming hall. It was a theater. But a theater as only Paradise Circle could make it. In Silverback, theaters were luxurious buildings that had seats with velvet cushions, chandeliers with gas lighting, majestic balconies, full orchestras, and the finest performers in the empire. The Rag and Boards, on the other hand, had no seats or balconies. The smoky torchlight made it difficult at times to even see the performers. That didn’t stop the drunken, rowdy audience from shouting criticism and advice. At the Rag and Boards, such behavior was not only allowed but encouraged. Often the performers would even instigate it. The curtain, or rag, rose at six o’clock daily and hosted a rotating program of plays and performances until midnight. Stories, folk dances, juggling, and clowning. For a fiveyard, it was possible you might see just about anything. But Red was sure no one had ever seen something quite like the night he took over the program.

It only required the right amount of money and knowing the right people for him to get a last-minute slot in that evening’s program, especially after Bullnose Nelly and her dancing bear suddenly fell ill. Finding one of the lead “performers” proved to be tricky. But once he recruited Handsome Henny and the Twins as extra muscle, even that difficulty was resolved. The hardest part was convincing Hope that her small role was not simply important, but essential. Finally, with only minutes to spare, everything was ready.

Red let the audience wait until they were properly worked up and chanting, “Hoist that rag!” When the curtain finally did come up, and it was only Red standing on a bare stage, they instantly fell silent. Red was known in the neighborhood for being a top-notch thief, a devious scoundrel, a tom with the mollies, a brutal stones player, and more recently, wanted alive or otherwise by Deadface Drem. This last one, he suspected, was what made the audience go quiet with equal parts awe and incredulity. It was a bold move. He could see a few people in the back shifting around, their hands slipping to sheathed knives or clubs, thinking they might slip around to the stage door and try to collect on Drem’s price. But as he’d hoped, they didn’t do it. Not yet, anyway. He’d have to talk fast.

“Toms and mollies! Neighborhood wags! Sorry for this last-minute substitution. I know you were all wanting your fill of bear dancing this night.”

“Bet you dance like a bear!” someone called.

“You flatter me, sir.” Red beamed. “Anyway, I’m sorry to say, something of a bit more serious nature requires your immediate attention.”

“Spit it out, Red, you lacy ponce!” shouted Handsome Henny from the crowd.

“Henny, you never were one for long speeches,” said Red. “Very well. The length of it is this: The Circle has been betrayed.”

Shouts came from all over. Red let it go awhile before he held up his hand to quiet them down. “I could tell you the whole thing myself, of course. But then it’s just me up here talking, and we all know how I like to talk.” A few chuckles in the audience. “Plus, you paid your coin to be entertained, and I’d hate to deny you one of the few pleasures life has for us here. So instead, I’ll have this old boot tell you.”

Red signaled offstage to Filler, who took one of the fly ropes and lowered a man slowly down to the stage next to Red. His feet dangled just above the boards. His hands were tied behind his back, and a dirty handkerchief was tied across his mouth. The shouts began again, some of them angry this time, some of them frightened.

“Judging by reactions,” said Red, “I’m guessing some of you wags recognize Brackson, chief boot for Deadface Drem. I thought to myself, who better to break the news than someone who was partly responsible for it? Of course, he’s a bit embarrassed about what he’s done, and most like he’s reluctant to speak of it. So I brought along a friend to loosen his tongue.”

Nettles walked out, her boots clacking sharply on the wooden boards of the stage.

“What tom wouldn’t be a bit more talkative for such a lovely molly, am I right, wags?” said Red.

A few hoots and catcalls came from the audience, but those were silenced by one cold look from Nettles.

“Would you do the honors?” Red asked her.

Nettles nodded. She unhooked her chainblade from her belt and loosened the coil. Then she snapped her wrist, sending the blade out to slice off the gag and a fair amount of cheek, as well.

Brackson screamed, “Damn you all to every hell! Drem will have the lot of you for this!”

“And what will he do with us?” asked Red.

“Kill you in the worst ways he can find!”

“Will he really kill all of us?” asked Red. “You sure he doesn’t have another plan?”

“What?” said Brackson, brought up short. He looked confused by the question.

“Thought he might want to, oh, I don’t know, give some of us over to someone.”

Brackson’s face hardened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he could have learned a thing or two from his boss, because it was plain to Red—and probably to everyone in that theater—that he was a terrible liar.

Red nodded to Nettles, who snapped her chainblade a second time. Now both of Brackson’s cheeks dripped as if he were crying blood.

“Next one takes an eye,” said Red, no longer playing the smiling entertainer. “Now, tell us all, nice and loud, what does Drem do with the ones he doesn’t kill?”

Brackson looked first at Red, then at Nettles, who was carefully cleaning his blood off her chainblade. He looked to the audience, pleading. But Red knew he’d find no pity there. The wags of Paradise Circle were many things. Starry-eyed and innocent were not any of them. They seemed to be getting a sense that this was serious and affected them all.

Finally, Brackson dropped his head to stare at the boards beneath him. “He gives them to the biomancers.”

The theater exploded with a roar of shouts and curses. Red waited while they got it out of their system. It took several minutes before he could get their attention again.

“Now, let me make sure I have this right,” said Red. “Currently, he gives them one true wag of the Circle every month. Yes?”

Brackson nodded, and the curses from the audience rose again. People threw rotten fruit at him that they’d brought for the dancing bear.

Once things had settled down a bit again, Red said, “I wish I could say that was all of it, but it’s not. It gets much worse.” He told them everything he’d heard at the meeting, including how the biomancers were demanding twenty people a month from Paradise Circle, Hammer Point, and even Silverback. The shouts grew less raged and more panicked. Red knew he had them.

“Make no mistake, the uptown lacies and their biomancers have declared war on the poor folk of downtown New Laven. They have decided we are no better than a shoal of fish to be caught and cooked. Circle or Hammer or Silver, they don’t care. They mean to chew us all up until there aren’t any left. And I ask you, do we accept that?”

“No!” shouted the audience.

“Of course not! Now is the time to lay aside old grudges with Hammer Point and join together to bring down the betrayer Drem and kick the biomancers out of our neighborhoods so hard they’ll be pissing blood for a week. They need to know that we won’t lie down for them!”

Shouts of agreement echoed around the theater.

“You’re all pissing bludgeon!” shouted Brackson, thrashing on his rope, blood flinging from his face. “Don’t you get it? We’re talking about pissing biomancers here! The right hand of the emperor himself. You haven’t got a chance. I’ve seen them do things you can’t even imagine!”

The audience grew quieter to listen.

“Yes.” Brackson nodded vehemently. “You never met one, but you’ve heard the stories your whole lives. Even when you were just a child, your mom and dad told you, ‘If you don’t behave, the biomancers’ll get ya!’ Oh, and they will! Let me tell you all, I have seen it with my own eyes, and every story you have ever heard is true. Why the hells do you think I went along with Drem? Because I was—and still am—pissing terrified of them. And you all should be, too.”

“It’s true,” said Red, “that we face the right hand of the emperor. But what if I were to tell you that we have the left hand? Toms and mollies, I give you…Bleak Hope.”

Hope dropped down from the flies, landing on one knee, the sheathed Song of Sorrows extended in front of her. A new surge of talk went through the crowd, but it was subdued and whispered.

“Yes, you see the armor and the sword,” said Red. “You know who, or what, this is. A Vinchen warrior. It just so happens, she has sworn to end the life of any biomancer she can find. And we’ve all heard the stories about Vinchen and their oaths, haven’t we?”

Red turned to Brackson. “You’re right about those biomancers. We were brought up to fear them, and with good reason. I’ve seen the awful things they can do.” He turned back to the audience. “But if we were scared by stories of biomancers, weren’t we inspired by the stories of the Vinchen? Warriors unlike any other, with a code of honor that protected all, not just the rich and noble. Remember Selk the Brave, who saved the village of Walta from a swarm of goblin sharks? Or Manay the True, who ended the Dark Mage’s reign? Or Hurlo the Cunning, who single-handedly defeated the brutal Jackal Lords? These Vinchen live as the poorest people in the empire, down in the Southern Isles, far from the splendor of Stonepeak. Why? Because they swore not to serve a single emperor but the whole of the empire. And last I checked, that includes us.”

He paused, letting that all sink in. There was complete silence and all eyes were on him. Even Hope’s. He couldn’t help but savor the moment.

“So let Drem have his nightmares. We have our hero.”

The audience exploded in a cheer that shook the boards beneath his feet.

“Tell everyone!” he shouted. “Tomorrow at noon we march on the Three Cups! And we take back our home! Where it’s cold and it’s wet!”

“And the sun doesn’t get!” roared the crowd.

“But still it’s my home!” called Red.

“BLESS THE CIRCLE!” rang through the theater like a monsoon.