Chương 11: Chapter 10 – A Better Kind of Folly

"We should call this off," said Passage. He traced the fresh scab on his chest with his thumb, marvelling at how quickly it was healing following Patrick's ministrations. It still hurt, but the pain was muted. Ressa splayed her hands, eyes wide, like she couldn't believe someone had finally said something sensible.

"We absolutely should call this off. This whole thing, the entire plan, is suicide. Nothing could even come close to making this a risk worth taking." Sable and Torvin looked more conflicted. The day had not gone as planned. No one had expected Cinder and Pike to show up at the bakery as early as they had. Passage had been quietly hoping they wouldn't show up at all. Jasper having his arm broken, Passage's chest being burned, the whole thing had felt more volatile than any of them were prepared to deal with.

It was one thing to laugh and plan, drunk on cheap wine and Bracken's limitless bravado, but when faced with the reality of two magically enhanced murderers, Passage balked. It was so much easier when he was angry. To decide. To act. The second his blood was up, the road ahead had a habit of narrowing. When he was calm, it was all twisting paths and branching choices, and lessons from his father written on the signposts at each and every one.

But that temper of his somehow burned the paths away, leaving just one option ahead, leading straight to the fastest and easiest way to hurt the ones who'd pissed him off. He traced his wound again, not liking what that said about him. Bracken hadn't come back. The four of them had spread out across the Gutters looking for him, or for any trace of Cinder and Pike. Torvin, thankfully, had spotted Bracken and his brother, Edrin, crossing back over the Aelbridge towards Glasshill.

It was the only reason Passage had been able to breathe all day. He'd felt like he was sucking air through a wet rag for almost two hours, from the time Bracken went rogue to when Torvin confirmed seeing him safe. After that, the Wyrms had reluctantly stuck to the plan and tried to uncover what they could of Cinder and Pike's routine for the rest of the day.

Without Bracken to spur them on, they had faltered, each a little less certain of themselves, but Passage's temper had been slow to cool after the altercation in the bakery and his quiet endorsement to proceed had kept them mostly on track. They'd only taken a few hours to find Cinder and Pike again. The pair were not exactly subtle, and people, especially men, usually told Sable anything she wanted to know when she asked nicely. Probably for the same reason as she knew where Silk's Laundry was.

The madam who ran the girls there had offered Sable a job just a few weeks earlier, Sable had turned her down. The brothels in the Gutters were always recruiting. Beautiful things tended to age quickly in the lower city, or else left with the tides.

"Bracken won't agree to back out," said Torvin. Which was true, but also Torvin's way of saying he didn't want to back out either. They were all crowded around their usual table at the Drowned Maid. When Bracken returned, it would be the first place he'd look for them.

"Maybe not. But he also won't try to do it on his own if the rest of us say no," Passage replied.

"Well, he might," Sable countered. Passage considered for half a beat, then had to bow his head in concession. She was right. He might.

"So, we talk him out of it. He's an idealist, not an idiot," said Passage.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Ressa said with affection. Again, Passage conceded the point with a reluctant dip of his chin. He looked around at the three of them and saw different shades of the same complicated feelings on all their faces. There was a part of each of them that was scared, that realised tangling with Tallow was about the dumbest thing they could do.

But there was also a little of that madness in them – and they could blame their youth, Bracken's influence, or the whispers of Planeborn demons for it, he didn't care. But there was a madness that thrilled at the excitement, that really believed there could still be a life ahead of each of them that didn't look like five adults slowly drifting apart, consumed by lives mapped out for them by circumstances they never chose. It would be so easy for Bracken to disappear into his father's business.

For Passage to replace Harrow in leading sermons at the temple. For Sable to marry a wealthy man or take up one of the madams on their offers. Torvin would fade into a life of labour, hauling boxes by the dockside and resenting the world more each year for it. He already drank more than the rest of them, gambled every second coin he stole or earned and sampled the southside's illicit wares. If he didn't escape the Gutters, they'd consume him. Passage glanced to Ressa.

She sat beside him, the same spot she always took at their table. Curly brown hair tied back, a prayer in one eye and a lecture in the other. She spent so much time mothering her younger siblings that sometimes she forgot that she didn't need to mother the rest of them as well. Ressa would probably be the first to leave them all behind. She'd take up a trade, something sensible like a seamstress. Soon enough she'd want to settle down, be married, have children with a man as good and sensible as her.

Once that happened, she'd want nothing to do with the rest of them, no matter how she sometimes looked at Passage. The threat of that future had loomed darker over them this past year and it was growing harder to ignore by the day. None of them but Bracken came from money. None of them would be afforded their youthful indolence much longer.

"I heard that, and I was waiting for one of you to defend me, but it seems I must defend myself," Bracken swaggered through the door. He looked weary, face stained with dust and grime cut through by droplets of sweat. It was rare to see him so unkempt. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Passage immediately forgot that he'd planned on being annoyed at Bracken for going off on his own that morning.

He was across the room, sweeping his small friend into a hug almost before Bracken had finished speaking. Some part of him, he realised, hadn't totally believed that Torvin had seen what he claimed. He had needed to see proof of his friend's safety with his own eyes.

"No sense denying it, Bracken. Everyone here knows you too well to believe otherwise," Sable teased.

"Then at least tell me what you all learned while I was breaking my back hauling cargo all day," Bracken demanded, dropping a coin on the bar and fetching them all another jug.

"Bracken," Passage looked at the others, checking whether he had their support before he started an argument. Only Ressa met his eyes, the other two suddenly finding the old fishing nets that hung amongst the rafters extremely interesting.

"About that."

"Things went sideways this morning and now you're having second thoughts. You've been talking about it between the four of you, and you're all worried this is a mistake," Bracken summarised for him, pouring himself a drink and topping off everyone else's cup.

"You don't have to make us sound so predictable," Torvin challenged. Passage closed his eyes and waited. Of course they were predictable, and so of course, Bracken had already thought about this exact conversation. It had been naïve to think Bracken wouldn't also be rattled by things going wrong so quickly. Likewise, it was naïve to think he wouldn't have a reason to keep going anyway.

"Not predictable, just reasonable," Bracken nudged Torvin's shoulder warmly.

"But alright, I concede that it's still reckless to stay this course. We're looking to punch above our weight, and it won't be without risks. I only ask that before you make up your minds, you hear out my plan. I've been thinking about it all day." Passage didn't like the way he said it. He was always too confident in his own cleverness, but that confidence had a way of sweeping everyone else up in it, Passage included.

"It doesn't matter what the plan is, Bracken. Even if we somehow steal the knuckles, we'll just be putting nooses around our own necks doing it. Maybe we keep them hidden, take some power away from Pike and spit in Tallow's eye. But maybe we get spotted. A rumour starts. Cinder remembers seeing us this morning and gets suspicious. How long until he comes knocking on our doors looking for them?

We can't all be together all the time, even if the knuckles could let one of us defend ourselves – which we aren't even certain they can." Ressa was nodding along at all the right moments, agreeing with everything Passage was saying. Sable still seemed unconvinced, but Torvin wore the uncomfortable expression he always had when he was slowly being persuaded of something he didn't like.

"I already thought of that," said Bracken. Shit. Aldaryn spare the world from Bracken and quiet moments. No good ever came of his friend spending time alone with his thoughts.

"Which is why," Bracken continued.

"We won't keep the knuckles." That prompted immediate uproar from the table. Curses, challenges, questions, and doubts were flung at Bracken like rotten fruit at a prisoner in the stockade. An Implement that could grant strength akin to a Forged was worth more than most of them could ever dream of earning. It was the sort of power that made dreams possible in the Gutters, or else none of them would've been on board with this mad scheme in the first place.

Passage folded his arms and waited, nervous about the confident smirk on Bracken's face. Bracken raised his hands and waited for silence. When all were quiet, he continued.

"I was speaking with my father today – ""Getting lectured by, more likely," Sable interrupted. Bracken nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, yes, I was being lectured by my father this morning about opportunities to be something greater in life and how even if people have the skill or aptitude, if they don't have an opportunity to be more then they never will be."

"And you interpreted that as encouragement to rob a couple of violent gang enforcers?" Ressa asked. She, like Passage, seemed to feel Bracken building to something and was trying to stall his momentum. Passage just sipped his wine and let it happen. There are some things you can't fight.

"Yes, yes, I did. Because once we succeed, we'll have the knuckles. Which you've all rightly pointed out are quite valuable. But also limited. Only one of us can wear them at any given time. The power, the opportunity, remains in the hands of one, not all of us."

"Shit," Passage breathed, realising where Bracken was heading and hating that he was already on board despite his better judgement. Bracken winked at him.

"But if we were to sell the knuckles, to trade them for the sorts of resources that Wardens and guilds use to Stain their trainees, we could each become Stained. The Guilds give their best apprentices Stains all the time. We'd just need to buy whatever they use. Soulkindling Pills, Deepstone Elixirs, Northwind Brews. A Forged Implement could sell for enough to make us all Touched. We wouldn't need to worry about who was holding the knuckles because we wouldn't need them. We'd have power of our own.

An opportunity for all of us to be something more." And just like that, the plan was back on. There were a hundred things wrong with the idea. They would need a reliable merchant who traded in those goods. They'd need to move hot property. They'd need to avoid being swindled. If they pulled it off and were Stained, they'd need to worry about Tallow turning his sights on them in the same way he was looking at Patrick. And yet. Torvin's eyes were already on the middle distance, seeing himself throwing balls of fire.

Sable was trying to hide a smile behind her mug, looking so hopeful that Passage felt a painful squeeze in his chest. Even Ressa seemed to be considering, though she no doubt worried about all the same things as Passage. For his part, Passage couldn't help but hear the sound of the Durnheim bell and remember the feeling of certainty, of immovable, unshakable calm that came with its chime. What he wouldn't give to feel that every day, to be able to lean on that power to steady himself when his temper flared.

With Durnheim's influence in his soul, maybe he could be as good a man as his father. Passage met Bracken's eyes across the table and saw a flicker of hesitation there. Bracken might seem sure of himself, but Passage knew him better than the rest. Knew there was always a sliver of doubt behind the smiling mask. Bracken was looking for permission. If Passage shook his head, if he really wanted to talk Bracken out of things, then his friend would back down. But that was ever the trouble between them.

Bracken only pretended to be certain, and Passage only pretended to be wise. He nodded and Bracken smiled.

"So, I have a plan to get this done, but first, tell me what you all managed to learn."