Chương 6: Chapter 5 – Stakeout

Bracken took his brother's warning seriously. The one about their father, at least. He climbed through his bedroom window, cleaned himself up, stole a few short hours of sleep and snuck back out before dawn. No one at home had even realised he was there before he was gone again. From a certain perspective, that made it a perfect heist, a good omen for the days to come.

Of course, from another perspective he still smelled more-or-less like cheap booze and sweat, and he was struggling mightily just to keep his eyes open.

"Did you even sleep?" Ressa asked. She, of course, looked almost perfect. Hair clean and tied back, fresh clothes, bright eyes. She was unflappable. It no doubt helped that she was the only one of their number with a lick of sense and had stopped drinking well before the rest of them last night. Bracken ignored the pounding behind his eyes and the feeling of sweat soaking the back of his shirt despite the early morning chill. He forced a smile, "I've trained myself to go entire wee-" he paused to yawn.

Tried to force closed his mouth. Yawned again, eyes watering something fierce.

"Entire weeks without sleep."

"Of course. No doubt at the same time as you were learning to stand so you seem disarmingly small, despite your truly impressive height and muscular frame," Ressa nodded sagely.

"Indeed, it was. Both trivial parts of my elite and incredibly difficult training. Perhaps someday, I will take you as a student and show you the secrets of my arts."

"It's too early for jokes, Bracken, please," Torvin groaned. He lay on the damp stone ground, his cheek against the cobbles, looking green even in the predawn dim. Bracken knelt by the edge of the canal and cupped frigid water in his hands. He tossed some on Torvin who rolled away, spluttering and yelping, before splashing some over his own face. It helped a little to chase away the lingering fugue and wake him properly. Torvin swore and spat, less than grateful for the help.

"I see we should have spent more time talking about the meaning of 'covert' in the term 'covert operation'," Passage rounded a corner, Sable by his side. Sable hadn't even the decency to look the least bit miserable despite having consumed at least as much as Torvin. She was swaying on her feet, smiling and bright eyed, and… sipping from a flask. She wasn't hungover because she was still drunk. Shit. Sable being a capable flirt and disarmingly attractive was one of the gang's go-to distraction techniques.

Things might be tricky if she couldn't be relied upon. Passage, of course, looked just fine. If Bracken didn't know any better, he'd have assumed the giant had abused the Durnheim bell to chase away his hangover. But Bracken had known Passage almost his entire life, and the lucky bastard had never so much as brushed hands with a hangover. The man had the endurance of a Forged.

"Nonsense," Bracken shook his head, flinging droplets of water everywhere.

"Whispering and skulking about is far more suspicious. The five of us laughing, making arses of ourselves, is an advanced technique for evading detection. We show people what they expect to see, and they won't look twice."

"Saying random shit in that wise arse tone doesn't make it sound any wiser, Bracken," Torvin groaned.

"Hush, you're just grumpy because you haven't yet trained yourself to endure poisons as well as I," Bracken patted his friend on the arm and quickly leaned back to avoid the lazy swipe that followed. Torvin glared half-heartedly.

"I shudder to think how insufferable you'd be if you ever actually became a Stained," Ressa teased." When I become a Stained," Bracken corrected her.

"I imagine I'll be quite humble, at least until I master the secrets of the Planes and ascend to claim one of the Aldaryn thrones. Should take me a couple of weeks. Maybe even a month or two." The rest of them shook their head at his clowning, none truly bothered by his antics. They knew him too well to ever think there was any real ego behind the jokes. Bracken, perhaps best of all of them, knew exactly how small and powerless they each were.

It was a large part of why he was so determined that they each make something of themselves. Monsters, legends, and gods walked the lands. Mortals could ascend to dizzying heights of power and accomplish deeds that echoed through eternity. To live small lives and die small deaths in a minor city at the edge of the Empire seemed too cruel a fate to countenance.

"He's doing the big dreams face again," Sable teased.

"What? I wasn't making a face," said Bracken, cheeks warming.

"You were, you were staring at the middle distance like the Lady of Luck herself was taking her top off just for you," Torvin said.

"Now who's the poet?" Bracken splashed him again.

"Guys, come on, quiet down," Passage's voice rumbled.

"Going to be an awful short stakeout if we're spotted before we've even begun. I, for one, am not looking to be drowned in the canal this morning." It wasn't fair that he could sound so grown up and mature. He was the same age as the rest of them. Nonetheless, his words had the desired effect and all of them settled, shuffling back from the water's edge to crouch in the shadow of a storefront. Lanterns were already lit in the bakery across the canal, the target of this morning's operation.

The sign above the door read "Jasper's" in artful script. Beside it was drawn a pie, lines floating above it like a wafting scent. Inside, the ovens were working, and Bracken's stomach rumbled at the smell carried on the breeze. Much of the Gutters smelled about as pleasant as the name implied.

Damp seeped into everything, mould crept through the belly of every building, filth thrown down from Glasshill found ways to get caught up in the canals and formed stinking dams that people occasionally paid workers or Seldun-Stained to clear out. The smell of fresh baked bread was as welcome as the warm light of dawn creeping over the horizon. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Jasper's wife, Maria, opened the blinds at the front of the store and flipped the sign from "closed" to "open". Bracken nodded at the small act of defiance, given Tallow had put the word out that the business was not to be patronised until Patrick, Jasper's son, agreed to work for him. It wasn't often people openly defied Tallow. Even less often their defiance went unpunished.

"Why are we so sure they'll even come here?" Torvin asked, having returned to resting his face against the damp cobblestone.

"We're not," Passage answered.

"But we don't know where they sleep, or what their routine is. What we do know, is they're trying to put the screws on Jasper and his family. Stands to reason they'll come by each day to see if they've had enough. From there, we follow them. We learn the routine. We plan. Then we act."

"See how much more reasonable the plan sounds when Passage says it?" said Sable. Bracken just shook his head, only half listening. He really should've eaten something earlier, but he'd been too queasy. Now that he could smell the ovens working, it was all he could think about. He tapped his pocket, reassuring himself that he hadn't forgotten to bring a coin purse with him.

"I'll be right back," he stood from crouching and set off before the others could protest.

"Where are you going?" Ressa asked.

"Breakfast. Don't worry. I'll get you all something too."

"What if they show up while you're in there?" Ressa asked.

"I don't know, hoot or something. Make a sound like a seagull." Bracken waved behind him.

"Bracken! Bracken, stop!" Passage whisper-shouted after him. Bracken kept walking towards the bridge. The sooner he got in, the sooner he could get them all a bite to eat and get out. They'd be more effective with some food in their bellies and Jasper made such delicious sweet breads. Or would meat pies be better? Maybe he should just get both. The sound of heavy boots jogging on stone made him turn and wait. Passage was adept at many things, but stealth was not among them.

His friend lumbered after him, unwilling as ever to let Bracken make a mistake on his own when the two of them could make the same mistake together. He worried too much, always convinced the worst would happen and that he needed to be there when it did. He was only right about half the time.

"Good thinking, we'll need the extra hands to carry it all. Wouldn't want to drop Torvin's breakfast in the canal," Bracken smiled as Passage caught up with him, the rest of the crew still hiding in a pool of shadow behind a stack of crates.

"You saw how green he is. His breakfast is going to wind up in the canal one way or another anyway." Passage knew better than to try and talk Bracken out of something once he'd started it. The pair entered the bakery, a tiny bell jingling over the doorframe to announce their entrance. The sound hadn't finished ringing out before Jasper himself kicked open the kitchen door, storming into the storefront brandishing a rolling pin like a war hammer.

"I fuckin' told you what would happen if you came back," Jasper roared before coming to an awkward and sudden halt. He smiled sheepishly and lowered the rolling pin.

"Sorry boys, thought you were someone else." Maria peeked out from behind the kitchen door, a pot brandished overhead while she took in the scene. She lit up when she spotted Passage. The preacher was well loved by many of the Gutterfolk and that love was often extended to his son.

"Jasper!" She snapped.

"What's the point of opening the store if you're going to yell at everyone what comes through the door before you've even clapped eyes on 'em? Pardon us, boys, it's been a stressful week."

"Don't worry about it," Passage waved away their concerns, closing the door behind them and keeping one eye trained on the window. Bracken let him hover by the door, more interested in dealing with the almost unbearable hunger gripping his insides now that he could smell the kitchen directly.

"I heard about Tallow's thugs coming by your father's temple yesterday morning, Passage. I wanted to say, I'm awful sorry about that. Your father needn't get himself caught up in our troubles," said Jasper.

"I'll let him know you said as much, but I wouldn't count on it stopping him," Passage replied.

"Stubborn as a stone-ox that one," Maria said, though she made it sound like a compliment.

"Dad just doesn't like bullies or seeing good people suffer, is all."

"Aye, he's a good man, and he's raising a good son. I just hope you're not here trying to get tangled up in our problems any further, boys. You don't need to be taking on any of our troubles, Tallow will back off once he gets bored." Bracken didn't share Jasper's confidence. Truthfully, he wasn't sure Jasper did either. The man had nervous eyes, kept flicking his gaze towards the door, and he still hadn't loosened his grip on the rolling pin. He was short, fat, with a curled moustache and rosy cheeks.

Anxiety didn't suit the normally jolly-looking man.

"No, not here looking for any trouble, just breakfast," Bracken winked, leaning an elbow on the counter. The casual stance was ruined slightly by how awkwardly high he had to lift his arm to achieve it.

"Hoot! Caw!" The strangled and utterly unconvincing sound of terrified birds called from across the canal.

"Shit," Bracken muttered. Passage rounded on the door, already shuffling his way towards the centre of the room, putting himself between the entrance and everyone else. Bracken cast about for a weapon but didn't see so much as a stale baguette to wield. Outside, approaching from the south side of the street, Cinder and Pike were strolling towards the bakery.

The pair were locked in conversation, no doubt talking about something suitably thuggish like whether torture should start with breaking fingers or toes, and they didn't seem to have noticed Bracken and Passage yet.

"Best you boys go, out the back," Maria said, grabbing Bracken by the arm and pulling him towards the kitchen. The part of Bracken that wasn't laughing when he made jokes about becoming a legend demanded he stay. It whispered to him that they didn't need a plan or a heist. They could smack Pike over the head, steal his knuckles, and deal with Cinder right there and then.

The part of him that didn't relish the idea of having his legs broken like two rotten pieces of driftwood told him to scamper on into the kitchen before he could do something stupid and impulsive. The second voice was louder. He let Maria shove him through the door, half-expecting Passage to beat him there. The kitchen door swung shut, the bell above the front door jingled, and Bracken realised Passage hadn't followed him at all.

"Passage, m'boy. I thought I told your father yous weren't to fuck with Tallow's business. Did I not make myself clear?"