Chương 33: Chapter 32 – None Without Sin

Passage pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for Ulthrek, Lord of Stone, to grant him patience.

"You can't come," Bracken insisted, the same refrain he'd been arguing since they left the warehouse.

"We're coming," Passage fired back, pushing open the door to the canal house. It was on the south side of town, past Silk's Bridge. A four-storey affair, more dilapidated than rotten. Water lapped at the steps outside the door but had yet to invade.

"Why?" Bracken asked, all but pulling out his hair.

"You don't need to risk it. Tallow wants the goods. I have an in. I can steal them and pay our debt. There's no need for anyone else to wear the risk."

"What are we arguing about?" Torvin asked, looking up from where he lay on a shabby old couch against the wall.

"Bracken wants to martyr himself by stealing the shipment alone while we all twiddle our thumbs. He thinks it's only appropriate because he alone kicked the hornets' nest and got us all into this trouble, all by himself," Passage answered, claiming a rocking chair nearby.

"In fairness, we'd probably just slow him down. It was very impressive how he managed to stalk, poison, rob, and kill two underworld enforcers on his lonesome," said Sable, descending the stairs with Ressa in tow.

"Good thing none of the rest of us were dumb enough to get involved. Might've done something embarrassing like getting matching tattoos if we had," Ressa added.

"Hilarious," Bracken grumbled, leaning against the door and scowling at the room.

"And all while being so small," laughed Torvin.

"Don't judge so quickly, Torvin. You should've seen him at Silk's Laundry, dressed like one of the working girls. He has some curves hidden on that little frame," said Sable.

"I get it," Bracken threw up his hands in surrender.

"Then stop pretending like this is just your fault," Passage rounded on him, not unkind but firm. There was enough guilt and remorse to go around, none of them needed to be shouldering more than their share.

"We all had a chance to back out, and none of us did. We're all in trouble, and we'll all see our way out of it. Together."

"I love it when Passage puts on his preacher voice, don't you?" Sable said in a stage whisper to Ressa, earning a chuckle and a blush.

"Jokes aside, what happened. Did you find out when the shipment is? What's the play?" Torvin made room on the couch for the girls. The three of them looked between Passage and Bracken expectantly.

"We got caught snooping," said Bracken, still too busy glaring a hole in the floor to look any of them in the face. If he weren't so rakishly thin, people might mistake him for a Khaldurni with that stubborn streak.

"Because of course we did, because we always get caught, and things always go wrong, and this time is probably not going to be any different. Which is why we should at least consider limiting the risk."

"Oh, so he's in a properly bad mood," commented Torvin.

"What do you mean you got caught?" Sable asked.

"Should we maybe get some food? Take a beat? Talk this out after?" Ressa stood, ever the peacemaker.

"No, we need to have this out," said Passage. He felt tired in a way that sleep couldn't fix.

"Bracken's dad and brother were there. Bracken and I managed to talk our way out of trouble, don't worry. But the ship Tallow wants us to steal from leaves tomorrow to collect the Stained goods. We're all welcome on it, anyone who wants to join. Because we all get to choose."

"Which is all well and good, except for the fact that we're not just robbing my family – who will be able to link us all to the crime, by the way – we're going to be robbing the fucking Magister himself. We're stealing from the Wardens. That's not the sort of thing people are going to ignore. It's going to be investigated. They'll send fucking Inspectors around, probably interview everyone who gets on that ship. Doesn't matter how good of a liar you are if some Stain-brain can just read your mind!"

Bracken banged the back of his head against the wall. None of them were blind to the risks, nor the implications of being caught. But they were all under Tallow's boot together, and Passage knew for a fact that not a single one of their number would have it any other way. Sable took pity on Bracken first. She teased him often enough, but none of them were blind to the way those two looked at one another.

She stood and brought him back to the couch, forcing him to sit between herself and Torvin while Ressa made good on her threat to feed them. She fetched a loaf of bread and some cheese, passing it around for everyone to tear off chunks.

"Look, you're right. It's risky. Far riskier than stealing from Cinder and Pike. The ship leaves tomorrow. We don't have a plan. We don't even know exactly what we're meant to be stealing. Which is why as many of us as are willing should go, so we have the best chance of figuring our way out of this."

"How? You want us to steal from the supply, bring back extra? Make it seem like the cargo conveniently fell overboard?" Bracken asked, sullenly chewing a mouthful of bread and cheese. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"I know you're being sarcastic, but honestly, both great ideas. And two more ideas than we had a minute ago," said Passage. It hurt him to see his best friend spiral, and he'd have preferred to have this conversation quietly and alone, the way they usually did. But this wasn't just about Bracken's bruised ego. They all deserved to weigh the risks and make a choice, no matter how well he understood Bracken's desire to protect them from it.

"We could always just run," Sable suggested.

"Ships leave every day. We could just catch a ride on a different one. Head to another city, another island. Wherever we want."

"And what? Just start fresh?" Ressa asked, unconvinced.

"You sitting on some big property portfolio you haven't shared with the rest of the group, or something? What's keeping us here? Any of us?" Sable continued.

"My brother and sister," Ressa answered. Her father was a sailor who spent most of the year away at sea and her mother was usually around, but only in the strictest sense of the word. Ressa was more mother than sibling whenever she wasn't with the rest of the Wyrms.

"My dad," Passage said quietly. They all had people they cared about.

"All of whom will be just as alone if we all wind up dead," said Sable, voice soft.

"And if we leave without paying back Tallow, it'll be our families who pay the price. Even if he doesn't kill all of them, he'll kill some of them. He's not going to let us get away with what we did, not without getting payment or making an example," said Bracken, sinking down further in his seat. He was right, of course. Tallow occasionally did make an example, when he felt the need. Passage remembered the first time he'd seen a man hanging from a lamppost as a child.

His body had hung there for weeks before it fell, no one willing to take down Tallow's flag. He'd never learned what the man did to deserve it, nor any of the two dozen he'd seen since.

"Seems like that makes the decision for us then," said Passage, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"How's that, big man?" Torvin asked.

"We go on this voyage. We look for a chance to steal the goods without getting caught. We give whatever it is to Tallow, pay his blood price, and then we leave before we can catch any blowback. Start fresh somewhere new. We started this whole thing because we wanted out of the Gutters, right? So, fuck it, let's just go. I know it's not what we imagined, and it'll be hard, but we can find work. We can start again."

The others sat with his words for a moment, all of them for once considering the weight of them seriously.

"Let's vote on it," said Ressa and the others agreed, nods all around. Even Bracken, though he still looked reluctant to let anyone share in his damnation.

"Anonymous voting," Bracken held up a stalling hand.

"So that no one feels pressured to go one way or the other."

"Fine by me," Passage nodded and Bracken handed each of them a copper coin. They set up two mugs, high on a shelf, above even Passage's eye level. A coin in the left was a vote to stay in town once the job was done. A coin in the right, and they would leave. They'd place them one at a time, alone in the room. They agreed before they cast their votes that all would abide the majority.

They wouldn't risk leaving one of their own behind to deal with the consequences alone, nor would any of them flee while the majority remained. The name might have started as a joke, but each of them took their fealty to the Wyrms seriously. Passage counted the votes when they were done, pouring the right mug out for all to see. The vote was unanimous. One job, and then together they would leave.

Passage stood in the dark, haunting the street outside his father's temple like a banished spirit, unable to step into the sanctuary's warding light. The door was slightly ajar, the warm glow of Implements shining through the windows, a beacon for the lost and the cold in need of a place to lay their heads. The other Wyrms had spread across the city, headed for their own homes and loved ones. They'd agreed to say their goodbyes tonight, in case they didn't get another chance.

Bracken had headed to the Last Step, to recover their stolen grimoires, and Passage had parted ways with him at the Aelbridge to turn back south towards the street on which he used to live. That temple had been Passage's home for his entire life. It had been his sanctuary, safe and welcoming in a way that he'd never known anywhere else to feel. That had changed since last he'd left. He was no Planetouched, but the past few days had stained his soul just the same.

How could he enter that hall again, when he was no longer the boy who'd left it? He tried to take a step closer, but his legs had turned to stone. He owed his father an apology, an explanation, and a farewell. He'd stood there for the last half hour, trying to find the words to say. He'd found none. He'd never been as clever with them as Bracken. They all felt clumsy and small and petty. Too crude a set of tools to express the scope of his failure. And for what reason had he come, anyway? To comfort his father?

Or to absolve himself by washing clean his conscience with the kind words of a good man? He had no right to either. The Church of Empire had little to say on matters of goodness or on sin, at least not in any great detail. Its dogma encouraged the embrace of high ideals, the rejection of the lower Planes, and the virtue of finding a role for the individual that strengthened society as a whole. Harrow had always preached about goodness anyway.

Throughout Passage's entire life, the man had spoken of temperance and calm, kindness and charity, wisdom and foresight. Yet he'd raised a son full of rage and selfishness. A thief and a murderer. A tired man shuffled down the street, hugging arms against his chest to ward off the chill. He wore the many layered uniform of the lost and hungry, eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. Passage finally unrooted his feet to wander over towards him, intercepting the man before he could get any closer to the temple.

"Excuse me," Passage waved him down. The man eyed him with mistrust, taking a careful step back, ready to run. Passage held up a coin to buy a moment of his time.

"I don't mean to bother you, sir. I was just hoping you might be able to pass on a message for me, if you're headed into the temple." The man glanced from the coin to Passage's face and back again. He nodded and held out his hand.

"Tell the preacher that Passage is sorry, and that he says goodbye." Passage pressed the coin into the man's hand and stepped back. His messenger nodded and carried on his way, shuffling on into the light where Passage dared not trespass. Passage was a long way down the street, hidden in the dark and headed back towards the den that Tallow had granted them, when Harrow called out into the night.

"Passage?" he shouted.

"Passage! Son, come home!" Passage swallowed his grief. He did not stop. He did not turn. He walked alone, into the night.