GHOSTS IN THE GLASS Page 17

  “You’re worried they’ll come after your mule,” Mi’et said.

  “They won’t pester Molly They’re not hunting right now.”

  “What then?”

  “They’re not going to follow us out here. I’m not sure whether that worries me or makes me glad.” He gave the threk a last look, his pupils dilating to wide, black pools. Mi’et heard Kaitar speak—not with his mouth, but through the warble of sand and wind, the words cutting deep into his own thoughts as if a knife had pierced them: “Don’t eat Steig.”

  The largest threk lifted her head, her trill echoing off the dunes and filling the afternoon until it seemed a hundred beasts stalked the desert rather than two. As the shriek faded, both predators turned northeast and loped away, their shadows moving ahead with long, graceful strides.

  Mi’et’s mouth went dry. “You told them not to eat Steig. I heard it, but you—”

  “Just the wind playing tricks, Mi’et.” Kaitar pulled his duster collar up to hide his face, then urged Molly into a trot. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  This is what you’ve really been hiding, isn’t it? This is the only thing you’ve ever really been afraid of—yourself.

  Brass

  Leigh tightened the last valve on the Pihranese water filter and stood back, wiping sweat from her brow. Beside her, Dramen Frell crossed his arms over his barrel chest, curled mustache twitching as he frowned at the contraption. It consisted of three separate clay tubs, several hoses and two outflow valves. Somewhat smaller than the huge tubs, the fourth jug stored clean, drinkable water. The others, filled with gravel, sand and charcoal, filtered contaminated liquid in a laborious process.

  “We’ll have to keep this running non-stop just to keep up with the day-to-day demand,” Leigh said. After weeks of working on repairing the filter, she had come to despise it, and understood why the Sulari had discarded them after better technology had been imported from Avaeliis.

  “That’s true, but at least it’s running.” Frell sighed. “Now that we’ve got all the valves replaced and everything working, I suspect it will last a good, long time. It’s the water shed pump I’m worried about. I’ll send a crew down next summer to replace that.”

  Quelling the sinking feeling in her belly, Leigh squared her shoulders. “You’re going to the Foundry?”

  Frell wiped his hands clean on a rag, tucked the cloth into his back pocket, and nodded. “I am. I’ll be leaving tomorrow. Niles said the Foundry hasn’t had contact from that Scrapper escorting Erid for days. I’m worried. Ham Elgin said there’s been storms making call-ins spotty, but I think it best I go make sure he’s made it home.”

  Home.

  The word stung. Dogton had been her home. Erid’s, too. Now, Leigh didn’t think anyone could care to call it that. Limbo, perhaps, was a more fitting term now—a layover, wrought with nervous tension and moments of terrifying violence. Nal’ves had been like that, too, but knowing how Dogton had been only a few months ago made the familiarity worse.

  “You look tired, Miss Enderi, if you don’t mind me saying that. Everyone knows how hard you’ve been working to keep the civilian end of things going.” Frell’s eyes shone with sympathy. “You have my word once I reach the Foundry, I am going to personally be writing a petition with recommendation to have Evrik Niles removed. The Avaeliis Syndicate has no idea what they’ve done, letting him take power here in such a manner; it’s inhumane and impractical.”

  His encouragement and promises only made her shake her head. Romano Vargas, too, had spoken of inhumanity once, and Leigh did not want Frell’s words to herald a dark prophecy about the town’s fate—or her own.

  “Dogton would appreciate the Union’s help,” she said. “But we can’t be seen speaking about it here. You can leave, Frell, but if Niles gets word I’ve been speaking to you about his removal, he will take it out on the town first, and then me.” She glanced at the filter as it gave a great, low gurgle. One of the hoses vibrated as a gush flowed into the next clay container.

  “Niles can’t order you executed for talking. If he does that, the Foundry will pull support.” Frell plucked one of the wrenches from the ground and brushed it free of sand. “I know it might be asking a great deal, given your current situation, but I’d like it if you’d sit down and give me an oral report of all that happened, it would help your cause here when I get back to the Foundry.”

  “We’ll hold out so long as there’s water,” Leigh said. She was about to speak again when laughter, loud enough to be heard from all the way down the street, swallowed her response.

  “If you come pesterin’ the Commander again, we’ll ram that gun up your ass next time! Bet you’d like that, huh, cocksucker?”

  Vore staggered from around the chop-shop, clutching his stomach as he stumbled to the Bin. Tinn appeared behind him, prodding the tall Enforcer with his rifle and laughing when Vore nearly lost his balance. Vore paused briefly, leaning against the Bin’s rickety door, and then fell inside. Even from where she stood, Leigh heard the thump of his body hitting the cantina floor.

  “The hell happened now?” Frell stepped in front of her. Leigh shoved him out of the way so hard the Junker fell on his ass, swearing. Without waiting to see if Frell had anything more to say on the matter, she broke into a sprint, fueled by a cold rage stronger than fear.

  Tinn saw her coming and leveled his gun, winking. “Best go see what we did to your friend in there. Maybe you Enforcers will think twice about mouthin’ off, ‘less you want one more body for the crows to pick at.”

  Yours one day. I promise that. Mother help me, I swear it will be yours, Tinn.

  Leigh didn’t slow her step despite the gun pointed in her direction. She crashed into the Bin door, felt one of the hinges give way as her weight hit it, and wrestled free as it snagged at her arm, leaving a long scratch. “Vore!”

  “Well, hello Leigh.” Vore’s voice came out a painful, nasal croak. He’d slumped on the floor against one of the chairs, face a mask of blood, one arm draped around his midsection.

  Hubert scowled from where he sat at a nearby table, an interrupted game of solitaire spread out before him. “Well, that’s a broken nose, anyway. Looks like they knocked a few teeth out too. Won’t be winning any beauty contests now, will you?” He tossed down a card before getting to his feet.

  “Give me a rag, Hubert. Please.” Leigh kicked a chair out of the way and knelt by the other Enforcer. “What happened?”

  Vore smiled at her, but none of the mellow sarcasm remained on his battered face. “I guess I opened my big mouth a bit too wide.”

  “You’re bleeding all over my floor and leaving a stain.” Hubert tossed a rag onto the floor. Leigh glared at him, wondering if the man had any empathy at all. Standing there, his hands planted on his hips and a dingy apron hanging around his thick middle, Hubert didn’t seem concerned with anything except his filthy tavern. Grime streaked the rag he’d offered. Leigh threw it at him.

  “Such a dirty rag will only cause infection in any open cuts, not wash them. Get me some water. A bowl. Make sure it’s clean.”

  Hubert frowned so deeply the flesh of his cheeks bunched, almost hiding his small eyes. “Water’s a bit scarce to be wasting on a bloody nose. I don’t want no trouble from Scrappers or from Niles, and you Enforcers are trouble.”

  Behind him, the ragged heads of a dozen unfortunate animals watched with dust-streaked glass eyes—victims of Hubert’s utter lack of pity. Leigh had an unnerving notion of Vore’s head tacked up there, too, gathering dust while the Estarian barkeep went on playing cards and whistling an Avaeliisian march.

  She ground her teeth together. “Get water.”

  “Who the hell are you to give orders? You’re not captain of the Enforcers. Even if you were, what’s that mean now? Nothing.” His mouth split in a hostile grin. “You Enforcers lost the town for us, and now my business is bust, my best whore got burnt up by her crazy bastard son, and I’ve got to have three worthless mouths tak
ing up my Bin. Unless you all have the cunts to pay for water, you can sleep in the street for all I care, Niles’s orders be damned.”

  “You could just earn that water yourself.” Vore leaned against the table, dripping blood from his nose and lip. His voice lowered to a whispery, soft drawl. “But I suspect nobody would wanna toss it in any hole so full of shit, and both of yours are packed to the brim, Hub.”

  “Settles it, then, doesn’t it? You’ll be sleeping in the street tonight instead of bleeding on my floors.”

  Leigh pushed herself to her feet before Vore could make another retort. Without taking her eyes from Hubert, she began to unfasten her belt.

  Hubert chuckled. “A Sulari whore. . . now that’s something that will bring in a good bit of water.”

  “Is that what you think I’m volunteering for?” Leigh wrapped the belt around her fist so the brass buckle covered her knuckles.”

  “Leigh, you don’t have to get in a fight for my sake,” Vore said. “I can fight my own. And Hub ain’t nothin’ but a big ol’ windbag anyway. Always was.”

  “Even if he is nothing but a windbag, I’m going to have my say.”

  The brass gleamed red in the crimson-tinted light filtering through the unwashed windows. Hubert’s eyes went wide. They reminded Leigh of a pig’s eyes, showing white around the edges as fear registered in his mean, sluggish mind.

  She said, “There’s enough opposition in this town without adding you to it. Go get Vore some water. He’s helped protect your business here for nearly fifteen years. You owe him more than a bowl and a clean rag for that.”

  Hubert’s tongue worked the inside of his cheek, pressing against it so the ruddy skin went white under the pressure. He turned and pushed past the tables, an insult sliding between his clenched teeth. “Cunt.”

  “I’ve been called that so many times it means nothing to me. Get the water and make sure the bowl is clean.”

  “Leigh,” Vore groaned, sliding his blood-slickened palms over his bruised cheeks. “Just help me up. Hell, it’s only a broken nose and a bit of a kick. Garv’s cookin’s done worse.”

  “No, Vore, it’s not just a broken nose and a bit of a kick. It’s not just Hubert calling me a cunt and hating me for threatening him. It’s the town being torn apart at the seams.”

  She helped Vore to his feet and he wobbled, long legs trembling as he tossed an arm over her shoulder. The odor of sweat and blood hung thick in the air, making her feel suddenly drained.

  I’m so tired of smelling blood. I’m tired of angry men, and I’m tired of wanting to kill them.

  Behind the bar, Hubert cursed softly as he filled a bowl of water from a clay pitcher.

  “Who did this?” Leigh righted a toppled chair and helped Vore into it. She unwrapped the belt, tossed it on the table, and pulled the yalei from her shoulders. “And why? Where’s Garv?”

  “Garv’s feedin’ the prisoner, so far as I know,” Vore answered. He wiped his nose on his jacket, leaving a crimson smear. “Shit, but it hurts like hell to breathe right now.”

  “Breathe through your mouth. Here.” She snatched the bowl of water from Hubert’s outstretched hand, ignoring his sneer. “Tell me while I clean this blood from your face.” Dipping the edge of her yalei into the water, Leigh wiped Vore’s nose and cheeks. “Who did it?”

  “Why, you are just like Mary Soulmaker tendin’ the unfortunate.”

  “Vore, tell me. This isn’t one of your jokes.”

  “The whole town is a joke,” Hubert muttered. He waded through the cluttered common room, his square form making the dust motes part like a curtain. Then, he vanished into the small storeroom.

  “I went to have a talk about Queen.” Vore said. He glanced at the storeroom door. “That guy is a real prize. Never did like him much. Guess the lack of customers has him riled.”

  Leigh caught his thin jaw and pulled his head back around more roughly than she intended. “You went to talk about your gun with who? Karraetu?”

  “That’d be the man I had a talk with, yes.” Vore smiled, and the pitiful gap in his grin made Leigh wince. “That gun was given to me for taking down Bruce Leonard. That was a while before you came, back when I was still workin’ for the Scrappers.”

  Leigh knew the story. The Junkers’ Union had hired the Scrappers to take care of an especially troubling bandit—Bruce Leonard—after the outlaw had shot and killed Ham Elgin’s young son in a botched caravan hold-up. Vore had shot and presumably killed the notorious gunslinger. As a reward, Ham Elgin had given him Queen, a gun many coveted as the finest piece of weaponry in the Shy’war-Anquai. Vore had always been proud of his skill, and had treated the big revolver with a sort of reverence that had earned it the odd moniker.

  But no gun was worth dying over.

  “You jeopardized your life and the safety of this town over a revolver.” Leigh dropped her yalei onto the table, some of her sympathy turning to disgust. “Are you truly so vain? So selfish? If you’d have been shot, it would be only Garv and I left to try to hold Dogton together. Niles can’t do it, and Karraetu doesn’t care one way or the other. “

  “It’s more than a gun.” Vore’s composure fell; for the first time in the five years she’d known him, the sharpshooter’s nonchalance gave way to abject misery. “It’s my honor. I guess you might know a little of what it’s like, bein’ something of an outsider—all us Enforcers do, ‘cept maybe Zres. It’s why I consider you all family, in a way. My own family never wanted much to do with me after they. . .” He trailed off with a shrug, then smirked. “Karraetu stole my damned honor when he took that gun. He ain’t got none of his own, so he had to take it from another man.”

  Leigh lowered herself into a chair. “That’s all true, but I need you alive, not dead over an old grudge. We’re all this town has to rely on right now for any semblance of the old stability Orin always kept up. What Zres did scared people badly. Mi’et walked off, and now everyone knows there’s a bounty on him and Kaitar. It doesn’t matter it’s all a lie, people are frightened, and so they’ll believe those two are outlaws.” She laid a hand on his bony shoulder. “We can’t let them see us slip or let ourselves be beat down. Let the gun go, Vore. When we get through this, I’ll find you the best revolver in the world and have your name etched on the side for everything you’ve done to help Dogton.”

  “You are somethin’ else, do you know that?” Vore touched his busted nose gingerly, wincing. “Leigh, I do believe you’ve got the biggest pair of brass balls in this town. Don’t anything get to you?”

  “You know better than to think that.”

  Groaning as he moved, Vore braced his belly and shifted his weight. “You still havin’ dreams about what happened out there in Bywater Gully?”

  “How badly did he kick you? I can go find Sokepta now. I know he’s got some Harper’s Hand and threk venom to cut the pain.”

  “Now, that’s just slidin’ around my question.” Vore leaned back, dabbing at his nose with the edge of the yalei. Watching the spreading stain, he sighed. “I’ll live. I’ve had a lot worse than this, though I guess you weren’t there to see it. I came on just before the rebellion in Bywater hit hard, and a lot of us got roughed up pretty bad then. But you, Leigh, you were out there facin’ Lein Strauss alone. I had four other Enforcers and a scout with me when we crossed his path”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about that. Everyone’s heard the reports. What needed to be said was already spoken of and on record.”

  “You gave a report to Niles and Karraetu to jot down and lose somewhere, but you never told us what really went on out there.” He wiped his face a final time. “I do think I swallowed one of those teeth he knocked out. But that ain’t as bad as what you and Kaitar went through, is it?”

  How can you put that kind of fear into words, Vore? Maybe one of the Sulari poets Father used to tell me about could have done it. They painted pictures with words, but I never had that talent.

  Leigh shook her h
ead. “Another time. Not here, and not now.”

  “I’ll hold you to your word on that.”

  Hating herself for being trapped so neatly between a lie and a promise, Leigh nodded. “Frell is leaving for the Foundry tomorrow. The water filter is repaired, and we’ll have to take shifts keeping it filled and running.” She stood, offered her hand, and helped Vore to his feet, noting the way he cringed and tensed his midsection. “Go back to the room and wait for Garv. I’m going to get permission to speak to Sokepta. He can give you something to help, and I want you to take whatever he offers. I’ll need you on your feet tomorrow to take your turn filling the tanks.”

  “Now you sound like Orin.”

  “I’ll take the first shift now.” Tasting raw filth and the after-odor of perfume on her tongue, Leigh hated the Bin more than any place in the world at that moment. “Frell says he’s going to make a petition when he gets to the Foundry, and wants to speak to me about that.”

  “You gonna take him up on that?” Vore sniffed to clear his nose of blood. “The Union has some good folks workin’ for it—Romano was one, even if he wasn’t what I’d call a suitable choice for bein’ on an escort—but it’s a strange place. I been there a few times. Just. . . just don’t get caught up in his promises.”

  “No,” Leigh replied, suddenly sick to her stomach. She wanted to be out of the Bin and in the fresh air again, away from the stink of stale liquor and whore’s perfume. “I don’t get caught up in promises; I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

  Vore looked as mournful as a whipped dog, but Leigh felt no self-pity at all. Instead, determination—hard-worn, but still strong—bolstered her spirit. Nightmares or not, Scrappers or draught, she had survived worse when she’d crawled out from the desert—once as a girl, and once as an Enforcer. Evrik Niles would not be the one to break her.

  The door fell off its last hinge when she closed it with a backward kick, bringing grim satisfaction as she strode down the street, stiff-necked and straight-backed.