Nothing more.
Somewhere a city clock chimed a quarter past the hour.
Will flexed his shaking hands. The blood dried and flaked off, itching. He pressed his back against the wall, listeninguntil his head felt as though it would burst. The faintest whisking sound might have been pages turning.
—
We have to get her out of there
.
Will nodded, and signalled back:—
Get her to the open door. Then we can take her
.
He let his chin rest down on his chest for a moment, and then raised his head. The starlight shone in through the bedroom’s open door opposite, illuminating in that room a bed too small for any Man but a child—a bed full of wet darkness.
Will put out his fist and knocked on the door, low down. “Lizzey, is that you?”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Go back to bed. I’ll get mum and dad up.”
Knock, knock.
“Go back to
bed
, Lizzey.”
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
“Lizzey, go
away
. I’ll get mum and dad up, and they’ll give you a hiding.”
Will knocked again, low down on the door. Behind the closed door he heard a chair scrape on floorboards.
“All right, Lizzey, you just wait—”
The latch lifted and the door opened.
“Lizzey?”
The yellow-haired young woman frowned, caught stooping over to the height of a child. Ned brought his hunting knife up double-handed, slashing across her throat, and buried it in the back of her neck as she pitched forward onto her hands and knees and slowly slumped onto her side.
Will stabbed up under the ribs and into the heart. The girl’s throat gurgled. He straightened up.
Less careful of noise now, Will walked through the corridor towards the master bedroom. A faint lamplight streamed out of the older daughter’s room, shining on the sprawled dead body. It gave enough light for to see the lock on the chest.
“Damn.” Ned swapped lock-picks.
“Damn.”
“Easy…” Will put a hand on his brother’s arm. “Take it slow. There’s no hurry now. It won’t be light for another three hours.”
The lid gave, opening with a creak that made him flinch by reflex. Will stared into the empty chest. He grunted, smiling slightly; reached down and pulled the false bottom out.The distant lamplight glinted on coin—mostly silver, a few copper bits, and a very few pieces of gold.
“Just that?” Ned complained.
“Sarderis is a city. There are such things as banks. This will be today’s takings, nothing more.” Will sifted the money between his stained palms, taking the heft of the cold metal. “It’s still what we said it would be: the easiest way to replenish our funds. Anything more profitable would be harder and take more planning.”
Ned Brandiman, counting, grunted.
Will padded back to the eldest daughter’s room. The corridor stank of excrement. He stepped over the body. Something about the unintended eroticism of the way her limbs sprawled reminded him of another female Man, a long time ago, also dead. There was a jug and a basin in the room, and he washed his face and hands and sponged down as much of his doublet and trunk-hose as seemed feasible.
“One thousand and seven silver shillings, twelve copper pennies, nine gold pounds,” Ned announced. “Fifty-nine pounds eight shillings total. It’ll buy us new clothes, and a pony and harness, and
maybe
replace some of the equipment…”
“And make us fitly dressed visitors to The Named,” Will said.
The smell of blood hung heavily in the air, as sweet and rich as a butcher’s slaughterhouse. His gut rumbled. There is nothing a halfing likes so much as a good meal. He had eaten Man, when times were difficult, and found it more or less palatable, but not when raw.
“Mmm.” Will raised his eyebrows. “See if the fire’s banked in, will you, brother? If it is, let’s cook some young flesh; it’ll be the tenderest.”
His brother nodded. “I’ll go look.”
“And—before the blood dries—I’ll write somewhat on the walls.” Will surveyed the stained white plaster. “Let them
Somewhere a city clock chimed a quarter past the hour.
Will flexed his shaking hands. The blood dried and flaked off, itching. He pressed his back against the wall, listeninguntil his head felt as though it would burst. The faintest whisking sound might have been pages turning.
—
We have to get her out of there
.
Will nodded, and signalled back:—
Get her to the open door. Then we can take her
.
He let his chin rest down on his chest for a moment, and then raised his head. The starlight shone in through the bedroom’s open door opposite, illuminating in that room a bed too small for any Man but a child—a bed full of wet darkness.
Will put out his fist and knocked on the door, low down. “Lizzey, is that you?”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Go back to bed. I’ll get mum and dad up.”
Knock, knock.
“Go back to
bed
, Lizzey.”
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
“Lizzey, go
away
. I’ll get mum and dad up, and they’ll give you a hiding.”
Will knocked again, low down on the door. Behind the closed door he heard a chair scrape on floorboards.
“All right, Lizzey, you just wait—”
The latch lifted and the door opened.
“Lizzey?”
The yellow-haired young woman frowned, caught stooping over to the height of a child. Ned brought his hunting knife up double-handed, slashing across her throat, and buried it in the back of her neck as she pitched forward onto her hands and knees and slowly slumped onto her side.
Will stabbed up under the ribs and into the heart. The girl’s throat gurgled. He straightened up.
Less careful of noise now, Will walked through the corridor towards the master bedroom. A faint lamplight streamed out of the older daughter’s room, shining on the sprawled dead body. It gave enough light for to see the lock on the chest.
“Damn.” Ned swapped lock-picks.
“Damn.”
“Easy…” Will put a hand on his brother’s arm. “Take it slow. There’s no hurry now. It won’t be light for another three hours.”
The lid gave, opening with a creak that made him flinch by reflex. Will stared into the empty chest. He grunted, smiling slightly; reached down and pulled the false bottom out.The distant lamplight glinted on coin—mostly silver, a few copper bits, and a very few pieces of gold.
“Just that?” Ned complained.
“Sarderis is a city. There are such things as banks. This will be today’s takings, nothing more.” Will sifted the money between his stained palms, taking the heft of the cold metal. “It’s still what we said it would be: the easiest way to replenish our funds. Anything more profitable would be harder and take more planning.”
Ned Brandiman, counting, grunted.
Will padded back to the eldest daughter’s room. The corridor stank of excrement. He stepped over the body. Something about the unintended eroticism of the way her limbs sprawled reminded him of another female Man, a long time ago, also dead. There was a jug and a basin in the room, and he washed his face and hands and sponged down as much of his doublet and trunk-hose as seemed feasible.
“One thousand and seven silver shillings, twelve copper pennies, nine gold pounds,” Ned announced. “Fifty-nine pounds eight shillings total. It’ll buy us new clothes, and a pony and harness, and
maybe
replace some of the equipment…”
“And make us fitly dressed visitors to The Named,” Will said.
The smell of blood hung heavily in the air, as sweet and rich as a butcher’s slaughterhouse. His gut rumbled. There is nothing a halfing likes so much as a good meal. He had eaten Man, when times were difficult, and found it more or less palatable, but not when raw.
“Mmm.” Will raised his eyebrows. “See if the fire’s banked in, will you, brother? If it is, let’s cook some young flesh; it’ll be the tenderest.”
His brother nodded. “I’ll go look.”
“And—before the blood dries—I’ll write somewhat on the walls.” Will surveyed the stained white plaster. “Let them
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