‘“We can steal a boat,” Dior whispered. “Make for the north shore.”
‘“Wait,” I told her, looking at the stores about us. “Hold here a moment.”
‘I left her in the dark, slipping up to a fancy shopfront and twisting the door handle until I felt the lock pop clean. Inside, I grabbed a swift armload: furs, cloaks, blankets, bundling them under my arm and tossing a handful of royales onto the countertop as I left.
‘Stepping back outside, I saw Dior had already boarded a small rowboat, pushing herself out into the Volta. I caught a few strange looks as I bolted down the pier after the girl, nun’s habit streaming behind me as I took the leap and landed in the boat with a thump.
‘I watched the City of Scarlet fade into the snow and mist behind us. The priory bells were still ringing, the perfume of blood hanging in the air. But it seemed we’d avoided pursuit. I took over the oars, watching Dior as I rowed towards the northern banks. The girl sat hunched in her vestments, dragging off her veil and casting it into the river.
‘Ice crunched on our hull as we neared the shallows, our prow breaking through the thick rime of dirty frost. I climbed into freezing water, dragging our little dingy up onto the bank. But Dior just sat in the boat, watching the snow falling all around us.
‘“Dior? You aright?”
‘She looked at me, mute and unblinking. Her lip was split and swollen. Her eyes bruised black. Her face pale and spattered with red. I knew not what those inquisitors had done to her, but I’d had a taste myself. For a moment, I wondered if they’d broken something inside her, the wound only felt in the aftermath.
‘“Come on.” I held out my hand. “I’ve got you.”
‘But she pursed her split lips. Rubbed her bruised eyes. Gutter-hard and street-sharp, and I saw the truth. Though she’d no clue how to swing a sword, still she’d picked one up to defend me. Though she’d no reason to come back for me, still she’d returned. And though they’d beaten on her hard as they dared, still, she wasn’t broken.
‘“I’ve got me,” she said.
‘And standing, she leapt onto the frozen shore.’
VIII
MAGIK
‘IT TURNS OUT nuns’ habits burn quite well.
‘Dior sat and watched while I got a fire going, ably assisted by the vestments I’d worn in our escape. It had been deadwood and drudgery for miles after fleeing Redwatch, freezing cold, and the pair of us had been too tired and beaten to talk much. The woods about us were long decayed, frozen, but as the sun’s light began failing, we found a place to stop – an ancient oak with a great hollow in its belly. Two branches rose from its flanks, and it reminded me of a penitent man; arms outstretched, head thrown back to heaven.
‘I foraged in the gloom for a while before I found what I was looking for – tiny brown caps sprouting in the trunk of a fallen pine. Grinding them into a paste, I boiled the leavings in my foundry, then handed the steaming brew to Dior.
‘“What’s this?” she asked.
‘“Idleshade.” I motioned to the awful bruises on her face. “It might befuddle your wits a little, but it’ll help with the pain.”
‘I broke out a couple of spudloaves, and we ate in silence for a time. The night was bitter cold, snowflakes hissing as the sparks rose skywards, pale moths dancing around the flames. There was something peaceful about it all, but I knew this serenity would be fleeting. Inquisition aside, Danton was still on our trail, and even now, he’d be hunting for a way across the Volta. It might take time. Hell, it might take ’til the river froze over. But wintersdeep was breathing bitter cold upon our heels now, and sooner, not later, the Beast of Vellene would be at our throats again.
‘“You came back for me.”
‘Dior glanced up as I spoke. She’d been nursing her tea, eyes on the laughing flames. Her face and lips were black and blue, dried blood under her broken fingernails.
‘“In the priory,” I murmured. “You came back for me.”
‘“Of course I did.”
‘“I thought I told you it’s better to be a bastard than a fool.”
‘“And I thought I told you, you’re not my papa. Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”
‘I chuckled at that. She smiled weakly in return, but it soon curdled to a sneer.
‘“I decided I owed it to you,” she said. “It was my stupidity that landed us in that shite to begin with. You warned me too. About trusting those ungrateful fuckers on that barge. You told me to keep my head down, and I didn’t listen. I don’t know why I do that. Don’t know why I haven’t learned my lesson yet. Everybody betrays. Everybody leaves.”
‘“Not everybody. Not always.”
‘“You were going to.”
‘I breathed deep, nodding. “And I’m sorry for it, Dior. Truly.”
‘“You needn’t be sorry.” She shrugged. “I’m the fool who keeps making the same mistakes and expecting something different to happen.”
‘I studied her then, across the crackling firelight. The clenched fists. The tiny sparks of rage in her eyes. And I realized she wasn’t even talking about me any more.
‘“You’re talking about Lashaame.”
‘She met my stare. “They told you, eh? Those inquisitor bitches told you what I did?”
‘“A version of it.” I shrugged. “One I didn’t put stock in.”
‘“They tell you I killed someone?”
‘“A bishop.”
‘“He wasn’t a bishop, he was a bastard. A fucking …”
‘Her voice failed, and she clenched her jaw, turned back to the fire. She looked tired and beaten then, all the weight of the world on her shoulders. I could see a scab here, one she wanted to pick at. But I’d no ken how much it might bleed if she tore it loose.
‘“You don’t have to tell me, Dior. I’ll not judge you ill.”
‘She sighed, pawing her hair down over her eyes. I’d noticed she did that when she wanted to stop people from seeing her. A shield, ash-white, hiding her from the world, like that damned magik coat. “You remember you asked what I wanted to be when I grew up?”
‘“Dangerous,” I nodded. “And you proved yourself that today, sure and true.”
‘“It was a lie, though. I never really cared about being dangerous. I just didn’t want to be alone. That’s how my mama went out, you know. Even I abandoned her in the end.” She laced bloodstained fingers together, voice soft. “Everybody leaves. Even me.”
‘Dior spat into the fire. I stayed soft and still, just listening.
‘“After Mama died, I fell in with those gutter runners I told you about. Ten of us, living in a warehouse in the Lashaame docks. The place was run by an old locktalker. Called himself the Narrowman. He was a grumpy bastard like you, but God … I loved it there. He gave us jobs, took a cut, kept us off our backs and knees. Even taught us how to read with an old copy of the Testaments. It almost felt like we were famille for a few years.”
‘“Sounds … an interesting place.”