Rozmarie & Josiah

Josiah

Goddamit.

The booger-pickers were nothing, but these were the kind of assholes the Sparrows really had in mind—big, burly bastards with nothing better to do than beat men for easy money and quick street cred. Except Nero would never pay them. He'd congratulate the amateur bounty hunter and promptly reward him with a knife in the back. I didn't want to deal with it. I wanted to get to Micah and get the fuck out of here. But a six-man army blocked me from the side alley to the back of Madame Sinny's Shoe Shoppe. Hugo to Silver was still possible, but they would've followed and drawn entirely too much attention. And the point was to remain inconspicuous. Hidden. Lost in the Quantara Realm.

Which meant I would have to deal with them here.

Son of a bitch.

I pointed behind me, back toward Dunn Street. "Go. I'm not in the mood to kill anyone else."

The closest one snorted, scratched his chest and then glanced at his companions. "Says he doesn't want to kill us."

They all laughed and gulped from their canteens greedily. All except the largest, the leader, I assumed. He sashayed forward and brought his bloody-tipped dagger to his teeth. Then began picking free the food remnants. "Let's get this over with quick, what do you think?"

I sighed.

"Right," he winked.

He launched himself for me but slashed at nothing. Because I'd sidestepped and gutted his closest companion who'd been distracted taking a swig. He fell forward and the other four charged. 

The first tried to stick me again but I leapt over his blade and jabbed him through his shoulder. He cursed and dropped his sword just as I turned to the next. And the next. And the next. Each was drunker than the last and every one of them was slow and unskilled with their weapons, which they held like foreign objects. Probably because they'd lifted them this night. I swung around, attacking until everything stilled and by the time I stopped, pieces of the men lay scattered about, blood dripping from my blades and running down through the cobblestones, back toward to Dunn Street. At least I didn't kill any of them this time.

The leader scooted against the Shoppe's wall, clutching a bloody stump to his chest. He recoiled when I crouched in front of him. "If you see Nero, give him a message for me."

"Aw, fuck off you—"

I brought a blade to his throat and he gulped quickly. "Not the message, but close. Tell him I'm already gone, and that he'll never see me or my brother again," I inched the blade even closer, the ridge pushing hard against his thin skin. The man's glaring eyes flickered up to mine. "And if he does, it'll be because I've come to kill him."

I dropped the sword and slammed my fist against his head, knocking it back to the wall. He'd be out for a while, probably all night. Served him right.

Standing, I sprinted up the alley. I needed to get Gypsy. Poor girl. She'd been left here all alone this whole time and I hated leaving her alone. I slowed as I neared the dark awning and peeked into the darkness.

There she was.

Silver coated, she had a glossy black mane and tail with eyes the color of sapphire. Gypsy. My Gypsy. Micah must've left her reins loosened because she walked right up to me, right into my hands. The man on the ground scooted back at her size, but she paid him no attention. He was an ant. An ant that I stood over and Gypsy and I had been together long enough to understand what that meant. She pressed her long snout against my face and I held it to mine, reveling in the quiet comfort of her nuzzling. I needed it. I needed something reassuring, someone to hold onto.

"Hey girl," I patted her neck. "Sorry I left you alone so long."

Logic told me to ride her to Madame Sinny's Shoe Shoppe. We'd get there fast and be on our way out faster, but it'd draw too much attention. Folks rode horses all the time, but Gypsy was enormous and a beast when she ran. And we liked to run. Fast. The smarter option was walking quietly through the back alleys, remaining inconspicuous in the darkness.

"Come on, girl," I led her through Prava's maze of side streets until we reached the one we needed. I slowed our approach, keeping to the shadows. "Micah?" I whispered. "You here?"

Nothing.

"Micah?" I peeked down the alley, but it was silent. With a glimpse at Gypsy, I jotted toward the bustling Silver Street and peered out. The crowd moved like two-way currents, hearty laughter and arguing flowing from the nearby taverns. But no Micah. I ducked back into the alley. Here. I'd told him to wait here. Right by Madame Sinny's. Did he think I meant another place?

"He's not here."

I spun.

An old man covered in dirt laid against the wall. A mangled grey beard flowed down his naked chest and to the only piece of clothing he wore—a red pair of worn breeches cut off at the knees. He was skinny, practically emaciated, and looked like he'd fallen through a chimney.

"Where is he?" I walked over. "Where's Micah?"

The old man wiped his nose. "I don't know if that's who you're looking for, but the boy who was here left. Took off when a couple men come around."

"Which way did he go?"

"That way," the old man gestured. "Back towards Dunn Street."

"When?"

"Not but a few moments ago. Hey, you uh..." he straightened up, "got any coins for an old hungry geezer? Seein' as I supplied you with information and all..." he wiped his nose, "seems only fair."

I reached into the red bag and tossed him a green token. "That's for food, friend. Not booze."

"Ay," he nodded. "And if I see your Micah, I'll tell him you were here."

I took Gypsy by her reins and together, we walked back the way we came, toward the busy main road. Either the Sparrows had come through or some of the local scum looking to bring us in. But where would Micah go? Would he have gone to our old hiding spot? The one we used for emergencies only?

Going down Dunn Street was dumb. It led straight to the palace and there, the light and crowds only increased, which meant more eyes to fall on me. And Gypsy. And Micah. We needed to be going the opposite way; we needed to be headed to the Outer Wall. But I wouldn't go without Micah. I pulled my hood lower and gripped Gypsy's reins, steering her through the traffic. Best not to make eyes with anyone, either. I focused on the cobblestone and weaved us seamlessly through the passing bodies, watchful of the shoes. Micah's were brown boots with thin laces, same as mine. He wouldn't have gone too far down Dunn Street, knowing I'd be looking for him.

"Stop right there."

I knew that voice. I knew it like I did Nero's, except it wasn't terrifying. It was annoying. And it meant I'd have to run. Because you couldn't kill a king's soldier like you could a Sparrow. Or any other low-life scum that crawled out of Prava's dark corners. Which was unfortunate because I'd really wanted to run my sword through Captain Junger's gut for a long time.

It hung over his belt, the red uniform stretching too tight like always. There was barely room for his sword amidst the fat and he ended up placing his hands on his hips. "Josiah-the-Swift," he flared his brows. "We meet again."

I stopped and Gypsy stopped. "Been looking forward to it?"

"Only the part where I string you up. Got a noose with your name on it."

"The entire Josiah-the-Swift? How'd you manage that?"

"Patience," his eyes flared again. "Just like I needed to catch you."

"But you haven't caught me."

"I have now!" he drew his sword. "And you're going to pay the ultimate price!"

Gypsy whinnied and kicked her front legs, sending bodies rushing around us. She knew what swords meant, especially when I wasn't the one yielding them. Danger. Time to ride. But I wasn't sure that was the best plan. We still needed to find Micah. If I could silence Captain Junger—

"Men!" he shouted and suddenly, an entire swarmof the red-coated bastards charged down Dunn Street, swords out and gunning forme.