Chương 16: Chapter 15 – Where There’s Smoke

Passage chewed on a dense heel of bread and a chunk of crumbly cheese without really tasting them. His stomach protested the meagre rations, already overfull with nerves and bitter adrenaline. The sun hadn't yet risen, and the stars were hidden behind a veil of roiling storm clouds, a darker mirror of the foggy Stillwake. He forced himself to swallow another mouthful and tried to ignore the voice whispering that the weather was an ill omen.

He and Ressa sat across from Jasper's bakery, perched on the opposite side of the canal at the water's edge. Legs crossed and a small rowboat bobbing beside them, the pair wore heavy cloaks with hoods up, as much for anonymity as for protection against the cold and slow drizzling rain. An old and torn fishing net was spread out between them, borrowed from the rafters of the Drowned Maid. Lesh wouldn't notice it was missing, and if he did, he probably wouldn't care.

The pair of them worked on slowly fixing the tears in the net, cutting away frayed strands of twine and knotting in new ones. Or Ressa was, at least. Passage mostly fiddled with the same section over and over, his fingers too thick and too clumsy for the intricate work, especially when his attention was so focused on every sound and every movement around them. The net was just cover, a reason for their presence that made them easy to overlook.

Somewhere nearby a gull squawked and Passage flinched, looking up and around to see what had disturbed it. Ressa glanced at him, her hands never stilling on the net.

"I'm no expert on spy craft, but I think flinching like that and looking around every two seconds might be a bit taboo when you're trying to keep a low cover," Ressa mused, voice gentle.

"Don't know how you're so calm yourself," Passage replied, forcing himself to lean forward and hunch down over the net again. There weren't all that many men his size and it would do none of them any good if he made himself too obvious. They were only there to watch, ready to send one of themselves off as a runner to warn Bracken and the others if something unexpected happened that jeopardised the plan. With any luck, none of them would need to interact directly with either Cinder or Pike all day.

He couldn't help but doubt Sael would be so kind.

"Oh, I'm terrified. This is an awful plan. Practically a suicide pact."

"You really think so?" Ressa was quiet for a few moments, tongue perched between her lips as she carefully threaded a complex knot and thought through her answer.

"Yes and no. It could be a lot worse. I just worry Bracken thinks he's cleverer than he is, and that maybe we're all a bit less clever than we want to believe ourselves to be. A lot could go wrong."

"Then why help? You can still go, you don't need to be here," Passage looked at her, hoping she could see in his face that the question and offer were genuine, not recrimination. He needn't have worried, Ressa wasn't so easily offended. She just smiled and said, "And send you all off without an ounce of sensibility or restraint between you? Not a chance."

"Probably for the best. Reckon we'd be swearing blood oaths and declaring war on Tallow himself by lunchtime if left to our own devices."

"Exactly. Glass, watch over us, I'm afraid to imagine what Bracken will think of next if we actually pull this off."

"Oh, he didn't tell you? He already has a twelve-step plan. First, it's rob a couple of volatile murderers, then acquire vast magical power. Step three, depose Tallow and establish the Wyrms as the most feared gang in all the Gutters. Step four, usurp Glasshill from the Magister himself." Ressa let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised in mock appreciation. She nodded in faux respect.

"What's step twelve look like? Deposing the emperor himself?"

"Hah, of course not. That's more like step nine. Step twelve is where we toss the Aldaryn from their thrones and become gods, obviously."

"Obviously," Ressa agreed. The two were so busy talking, Passage hadn't noticed Pike and Cinder approaching from the south side until they were almost in front of the bakery. He stumbled over his next words, mind going blank, and messed up the knot he'd been working on when his fingers clenched unbidden. Jasper and Maria hadn't opened the bakery since the day Pike broke Jasper's arm. A few kind souls had taken to leaving food by the back door, supporting the struggling family in what ways they could.

Much to Passage's pride and concern, Harrow himself was still the most open in his defiance of Tallow's decree, the only one who still brought money or food directly to their front door. If Cinder and Pike were aware of his continued charity, they hadn't been willing to escalate things with the preacher any further just yet. Cinder must have clung tight to Wodfyr that morning, drinking deep of the fire Plane's reckless energy.

His every movement betrayed impatience, his normally lazy swagger replaced instead with a purposeful stride. Pike hurried to keep up with him, sweat stains visible on his shirt. The mist itself recoiled from Cinder as if burned away, clearing a radius of a few feet around him as he headed straight for the bakery. His singular focus was a good thing because Passage had forgotten that he wasn't supposed to stare until Ressa tapped him on the knee and looked meaningfully down at their net.

Passage tilted his head, hiding his face deeper in the shadows of his hood and kept his hands moving, uselessly twirling the same two strands of twine around one another. He was too focused on their quarry to do otherwise.

"Open up!" Cinder called, rapping his knuckles against the door. He only waited a few seconds before banging again, loud enough that the sound rang out through the narrow canal street, echoing off the buildings.

"Open up, open up, open up!" No one came to the windows or opened their doors, the citizens in the nearby homes and businesses knowing better than to venture outside and catch the attention of a beast on the hunt. Fear and kindness rarely live under the same roof. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Pike caught up, panting and wheezing as if he'd struggled to match Cinder's pace the entire way over from their hovel across Silk's bridge.

He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Cinder looked at him and clicked his tongue, pacing impatiently back and forth outside the door. Every part of him seemed compelled to move, his fingers drumming ceaselessly against his thigh, his head tilting from side to side, his feet never stopping. With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped back from the bakery, backing up towards the canal so he could look at the upper story windows.

"I don't like waiting, Patrick. Come out now, buddy. It's a big day for me, alright? Reckon we start off with a win, yeah? You can come with us, meet the boss, give Tallow what he wants, and we all get props, yeah? Neighbours will be happy, I bet. No one wants us to keep coming back here, mate. We don't like it. Your parents don't like it. Whole situation is downright un-fucking-palatable." Passage set down the net, making ready to stand.

Ressa stopped him partway to his feet, her hand on his, tugging him back down. She looked at him, wide-eyed and pleading. True to her word, the only one of them with any sense. Passage struggled with himself for a moment. His nostrils flared, his hands flexed, desperate to latch onto something and break it. There was violence in the air, and it called to the violence in him.

It felt wrong on a visceral level, like an act of cowardice or betrayal to sit back down, but with Ressa's hand anchoring him to what little wisdom he had, he sank back to the ground.

"Ignoring me is rude, Patrick. Didn't mum and dad teach you that? Very disappointing. I'm going to give you until I count to ten to come down here and show a bit of respect. Alright Patrick? And if you don't, I'm going to tell Pike here to break down the door and beat your mum to death in front of you. Sound good? Alright, One. Two." Passage looked frantically to Ressa. She shook her head, warning him not to intervene, though she looked more nervous by the second. Cinder couldn't be serious.

The guard might not bother much with the Gutters, but some things couldn't be ignored. If Cinder made good on the threat, then Tallow would have to give them up, or the Wardens would have to get involved. Tallow's de facto rule over the Gutters was only tolerated by Glasshill and the Magister as long as he pretended at legitimacy and kept violence quietly monopolised. Public executions weren't his style. Not like this, at least.

Cinder kept counting, twitching like a noctar-addict at the end of a week without a fix.

"You coward, threatening women and children. Fuck off back to your master, you'll not take our son!" Jasper leaned out the second-story window, his broken arm bound to his chest in a sling. The usually jolly-looking baker was pale with fury and fear.

"Not a coward, fat man. Just bored of this fuckin' game is all," Cinder called up at him.

"Want me to go in?" Pike asked, one hand on his knuckles, the other reaching uncertainly for the door.

"When I want you to go in, I'll fuckin' tell you to go in," Cinder snapped, clicking angrily at his partner. Pike flinched, brows scrunched low. He looked genuinely hurt by the words.

"You don't have to be mean about it," he mumbled.

"I'm not fuckin' - Just… Don't be like that, alright?" Cinder hissed back, tugging at his greasy hair. He growled and looked back at where Jasper still leaned out the window.

"See, now you've upset Pike. He's inconsolable. You want your other arm broken, fat man?"

"Enough is enough, Cinder. Take your halfwit and leave us be or we'll petition the Magister and get the Wardens involved. You will not have our boy," Jasper's voice trembled but did not break.

"Enough is enough," Cinder mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"You know, Jasper, I agree." Passage saw it coming but Ressa's hand kept him tethered to his senses and there was no sane way for him to intervene. Cinder conjured a ball of flame into his palm, a miniature sun that sizzled and steamed where rain fell upon its surface. He admired his work for a moment, looking proudly at his creation before lobbing it straight at Jasper. The sphere swelled in size as it sailed towards the window. The baker yelped and ducked inside, avoiding catching the flames to his face.

A quiet whoomph blew through the window. A chorus of swearing and shouts cried out from within, the voices of Patrick and Maria joining with Jasper's own as the family scrambled to deal with the flames. Cinder conjured two more spheres, tossing them one after another through the window. The third splashed against the front of the building. The building was wet with rain, yet still the flames took hold, a few small tongues lapping at the façade, bubbling paint and blackening wood.

Black smoke began to billow from the window. Maria threw open a second, smoke rising from that as well, orange light flickering behind her. Passage was about to run and find a bucket, subtlety be damned, when the mist began pulling towards the windows as if inhaled. The rain began to fall heavier, angling towards the shopfront and the orange flickering ceased. The smoke continued to pour out the windows, but the shouting within quietened.

Passage watched in fascination as water along the righthand side of the building began running upwards in rivulets. The flow hastened, water spilling out of the guttering above and rushing towards the window as if it were a drain.

"You been practicing then, Patrick?" Cinder shouted, a sneer in his voice. He looked around at the street, glancing up and down the canal as if eager to act but uncertain of his decision. Even Cinder couldn't be dumb enough to risk burning down the entire street, Passage hoped. He was pushing right up against the line of what could be tolerated as it was.

"Pike," Cinder gestured at the door impatiently. Pike needed no further instruction, slipping on his knuckles and throwing a heavy punch at the door. It shattered, breaking off its hinges as it burst inwards and warped the frame. He marched inside, Cinder directly on his heels. The sound of things breaking rang out from within and Ressa's grip on Passage's wrist became white knuckled, nails digging into his skin. He held his breath, waiting for the sounds of screaming. When they came, he would act.

There could be no other choice, wisdom and good sense be damned. But no screams came. Only the sound of a kitchen being demolished. Stone ovens smashed. Pans and chopping boards were thrown like cannon balls through the front windows of the shop. Sacks of flour followed, sailing through the air and into the canal. Another fire started within, though Patrick would surely deal with it quickly. The pair of thugs left through the front door, apparently never having gone upstairs.

Passage could see from his vantage, Patrick pressed against the wall beside the window by his mother, held back from charging down the stairs. Cinder paused once more outside. His skin was bloodless white, sweat soaking his hair to his forehead, and the burn scar that marked him as Stained throbbed an angry red.

"Last warning Patrick. Things are changing for me and Pike here. We're moving up in the world. Don't have time to be dealing with little shits like yourself. So, we're gonna give you a couple days to make your peace with it, and next time we come back, you're leavin' with us. If you're a pain in the arse about it, we'll burn this fuckin' building down with your parents inside before we leave, alright?"

Cinder turned and shouted down the rest of the street, addressing the bystanders huddling in their homes, hiding their faces from their windows.

"Be a shame if that fire were to spread too! Maybe about time people talked some sense into their dense fuckin' neighbours! Dangerous thing, fire. Very hard to control." Passage sat perfectly still as the pair walked away. Ressa still hadn't loosened her grip on his wrist, and it finally occurred to him that she might not have been holding on just to restrain him. He looked at his friend, and to his shame, realised that she was scared. Gently, he pried open her fingers and took her hand in his own.

He almost wished he'd let Sable buy fouler poison after all.