Sábria had stopped when Shirin shouted. When she started forward again, her shoulders straight and her innate confidence shining through, Ghost let her come to Caitir and stepped between her and the other Blades to guard them both.

  Ailith rattled off some gutter cant where the syllables slid together in what sounded to the others like one long, indecipherable word. “Keek ‘round. Ya caien wit’ th’ stiker, aye?”

  With one final glare at the people crowded into the small space, Ghost grudgingly looked around and realized no one else had their blades out. Relieved her job to guard the Blade was finished, she slid her knife into the sheath secured at the back of her waist and stepped aside.

  Shirin hurried to Sábria’s side, saw the extent of Caitir’s injuries, and began issuing orders. Everyone knew the walls closing off both ends of the alley had been built to keep anyone from breaking through, and she began mentally running through options as to how best to get Caitir out.

  It had been hundreds of turns since the massive abattoir had been completely walled off on all sides with the same steel-reinforced walls used to block the alley. Shirin, who’d come to Sarlogne as a sixteen-turn shiv, neither remembered the reason nor cared since it was just another ancient, rotting building in the middle of the Codpiece. The Commander pointed to the opening in the roof. “Ailith, climb up there and see where it goes. If I’m judging correctly by the position relative to this alley, it should lead right into the old abattoir.”

  Ailith started for the wall and then paused and looked over her shoulder with a confused expression pulling her brows low. Since Shirin had already turned away, Sábria correctly interpreted what had stopped her shiv. “A slaughterhouse, Ailith.”

  Ailith’s brows rose into her brown hair, and her mouth formed an “Oh” before she nodded and began to climb.

  After running her hands over Caitir’s body and head, Sábria knew they needed the Master Healer there to assess how best to move her Blade. “Shirin. A sling to get her through that hole won’t work, and I need Master Healer Haria to get in here as fast as you can get her. Find a way to ram a hole through a wall. I don’t care what you have to do to get it done.”

  Shirin nodded and glanced around hesitantly, knowing the walls of the abattoir had been impenetrable for the last few hundred turns. It was why one of the largest buildings in the area was still standing. Well, that and its location made it a low priority for anyone with the means to raze it. Staring at the hole in the roof, she amended her thoughts and concluded it had been impenetrable to everyone except the inhabitants of the Codpiece. Turning her attention to the hole they’d climbed through, she guessed it had taken turns of patient scraping to create an opening big enough for an adult to squirm through.

  Caitir stared at Sábria and lifted a finger, about all she could do without sending excruciating agony cascading around her entire body. “Your feathers are red.”

  Barta, who’d remained standing next to Sábria, knelt beside the wounded Blade. “She keeps babblin’ ‘bout birds, Milady. I seen folk what got bad brain troobles. It be like their thinkin’s scrambled, ya ken?”

  With a worried look, Sábria gently ran a hand over the back of Caitir’s head where she’d previously found a soft spot. The bulge appeared bigger this time. “Yes, she has an extremely bad head wound.” She turned and called to Shirin. “Tell Haria there’s a nasty head wound, and the bulge seems to be growing.”

  When Sábria mentioned Haria, Soirin, who’d been climbing to run and bring the Temple’s healer, paused to listen.

  Shirin pointedly looked up at Soirin, a dark-haired Astrian desert nomad, who narrowed her deep-set, coal-black eyes common to her people. “Yes, My Lady. Other injuries I should tell her about so she has a better idea about what supplies to bring?”

  “Broken bones in the arms, maybe elsewhere, too. One eye swollen shut with possible broken bones around the socket, the other eye blood red.” Under normal circumstances, Sábria wouldn’t list the severity of the wounds where the injured Blade could hear, but these were far from normal circumstances. After quickly reaching around behind Caitir’s back and running her hand beneath the bloodied tunic, she felt the long narrow hole indicative of a knife wound. Her finger slipped through a fresh trickle of blood, and she called out. “Stab wound in the back. I can stem the bleeding while we wait.

  Her fingers slid through another patch of sticky blood, and she slid them through the wetness until she came to the beginning of a long slice along the belly. “Another slice in the belly. I need bandages, Shirin. I’m fairly certain there are broken ribs. I’d say they threw her down here from that hole.”

  Shirin glanced up at her Blade. “Have them send bandages through.” Even though she knew Soirin had heard everything, Shirin never left anything to chance when dealing with an emergency.

  With a quick nod, Soirin disappeared through the opening in the wall.

  Shirin called out, “Ailith!”

  The shiv’s disembodied voice answered from the other side of the west wall. “Aye, Commander?”

  “Report.”

  It took only a moment for Ailith to climb up and stand on the top of the opening. “Th’ meat grindery’s here, Commander. Pitch black, though, when I get past th’ light seepin’ in from the hole in th’ roof. I’ll go in and see what’s beyond the dark, but I didn’t go in any more than where th’ light shows what’s out there. Looks like th’ place is all shived up good and tight, too, ‘cause I don’t see no light shinin’ in through holes like ya’d usually see in a old carcass like this.” She looked out across the expanse of roof and then ran along the wall’s edge, where she was lost from sight.

  Sábria watched her sprinting along a wall barely wider than a support plank and growled under her breath. “Ailith.”

  Having the same apprehension as her friend, Shirin called out, “Ailith. We don’t need to be picking you up off the cobblestones, too.”

  It was protocol to acknowledge the Commander’s words, and Ailith backed up, shot a grim nod over her shoulder, and then once again leapt out of sight.

  With a growl, Ailith’s handler, Jenx, muttered, “If she doesn’t kill herself, I’ll do it for her when this is over.”

  “Best climber and roof runner I’ve ever seen among the Blades, though.” Shirin glanced at Jenx. “I wasn’t sure how much room was up there. That’s why I didn’t send you with her.”

  Jenx nodded, “I understood that, Commander, and we both know she’s good in emergencies. If she needs help, I’ll be the first one up that wall.”

  At Shirin’s comment about roof runners, Barta pulled her shoulders back and beamed at the Commander. “Us what’s been skellis or nints take to it. We fly, ya ken? Yer roads be on th’ ground, but not ours.” She paused and looked down at her leg. “It’s why I got a bum leg. When I were a bairn, six or seven turns at most, I were flyin’ acrost th’ alley an’ some nobles waitin’ below shot me wit’ a arrow. Hit me leg an’ I slammed into t’other wall, broke it here.” She rubbed her thigh. “Lucky fer me, I dropped to th’ roof an’ no th’ alley or they’d a had me fer sure.”

  Sábria had been checking Caitir’s pulse as she listened with half an ear. She blinked several times and then gazed up at the woman with anger flashing in her eyes. Realizing this wasn’t the time to discuss the changes in the law she was working so hard to implement, she returned her attention to Caitir’s wounds.

  A quiet whisper caught her attention. “It’s all red. And where’s the Blade? There should be a Blade.” Caitir squinted her open eye as she asked the question. “And the pounding. Inside and…out. Hurts. Can’t think.” Her head swayed in tiny, lethargic movements from one side to the other.

  Sábria’s heart was in her throat as she disregarded the blood and kissed Caitir on the forehead. She gently swiped dried strands of bloodied hair out of the other woman’s face, knowing that in even the darkest, most confusing of times, the welfare of a Blade’s patrol partner was uppermost in their mind. Because Caitir didn’t need the added stress of knowing her partner was dead, Sábria pretended to misunderstand that even in her muddled state, Caitir knew instinctively that Mita should be with her. “You’re my Blade, Caitir, and you’re right here. You’re here, and I’m going to take care of you.”

  “A red bird? Birds can’t talk or help.”

  “I’m Sábria. Elyon and I are here with you.”

  Caitir’s good eye narrowed as she stared at the bird that had just pecked her forehead. “I hurt, Bird. Everywhere.” The sides of her mouth pulled down and quivered as emotions surged. “It hurts. Everything hurts.”

  “I know. The healer will bring something for your pain.” Sábria ran a gentle hand down Caitir’s chest and around the side of her ribcage, trying to give comfort where she could. Both arms were broken, as was at least one of her legs.

  “Commander.” Ailith had reappeared. When Shirin looked up, Ailith continued, “I climbed down the wall a bit, th’ one next to th’ trib. There’s a brobmdin at th’ water.”

  Blinking in confusion, Shirin looked at Sábria, who shrugged. The Commander looked back up at Ailith, who watched her with excited anticipation. “What’s a brobmdin?” Shirin’s tongue struggled with the twisted syllables common to the Dreyuthan spoken language.

  Ailith’s brows descended as she tried to come up with a translation. “It’s aye where they bring th’ dead four-leggers in fer cuttin’ up. In from th’ trib, th’ river, ya ken?”

  Shirin caught Ailith’s excitement and straightened. “A gate? A river gate?”

  “Aye! Straight into th’ grindery. If ya bash a hole in th’ wall right below here, ya bring th’ healer in by boat, and I’ll find th’ gate on th inside and work it open if I can.”

  “Wait, Ailith.” Shirin pointed to Prime Geller, who’d been away searching a different district when the news of Caitir’s whereabouts had first arrived. She’d dropped into the alley a few moments earlier and was awaiting orders. “Geller, take Jenx.” She was distracted by a bundle being lowered from the hole in the wall. “What’s that?”

  “When I heard where ya was, I figured ya’d need light in here. That’s th’ torches I ordered ‘em to bring. They stuffed some clean rags in, too, if ya need them fer Caitir.”

  “Excellent. Take two torches and climb up to help Ailith find that river door and get it opened.”

  With a nod, Geller motioned to Jenx. “Yer good at climbin’ and puzzlin’ locks. Grab two torches and meet me inside.” Without waiting to see if her orders were obeyed, the Prime walked to the wall Ailith had ascended and began to climb.

  Jenx separated two torches from the bag, stuffed them into the back of her belt, grabbed one of several flintstones, and followed.

  Shirin rummaged through the bag, found the rags, and took them to Sábria. She glanced back at the hole and saw Shaya, one of the smaller shivs, bent over and straddling the hole with one leg dangling down on both sides. Relieved that someone had realized they needed a way to communicate with those on the other side of the wall, she called up to her. “Shaya. Who’s the highest rank still over there?”

  Shaya’s blonde hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, and when she jerked her head around to search the Blades on the other side of the wall, the hair whipped through the air like an eager puppy’s stubby tail. “Subcommander Calit, but she’s busy organizing search parties to track down the men who did this.” She held up a finger when someone spoke to her and then turned back to Shirin. “Prime Osstendler asks what you need, Commander.”

  “Tell her there’s a change of plans. She’s to go after Soirin who’s on her way to get the Master Healer. Osstendler is responsible for Master Haria’s safety. Take as many Blades as she needs and get Haria to the tributary docks behind the Foreign Quarter. Tell the Prime to send someone, with four other Blades as guards, to the docks immediately to arrange for a trib runner, preferably one known as an ally to the Blades. And make sure he or she is an experienced one. It’s not going to be easy navigating the tributary and stopping at a location that no longer has a dock. Tell them the trib runner needs to bring Haria to the gate into the old abattoir. Geller’s going to locate the gate and get it open.”

  After relaying the message, Shaya looked down at Shirin. “She’s on her way, Commander.”

  Barta walked to the abattoir’s wall and examined it with an expert eye. “Nobody’s never gotten through ‘tother walls around this place, but I alwayst wondered why they closed off th’ alley ‘stead of cooverin’ this wall, too. Nobody’s never tried to get through cuz the nobs an’ skellis an’ nints what go in and out use th’ hole in th’ roof.” Shirin’s gaze sharpened on the hole in the roof. “Don’t worry, Commander, they lit out when th’ Blades started coomin’ through th’ hole.” Barta scratched her head, “But gettin’ back to this wall, I was thinkin’ maybe they left th’ alley coovered an’ blocked it off an’ left this wall normal like, in case of trooble an’ they needed to get inside, ya ken?”

  The hammer Barta habitually wore at her side was in her hand before anyone even noticed she’d reached for it. She experimentally tapped the bricks, then hauled back and delivered a fierce blow. Part of a brick splintered off, but the woman wasn’t satisfied. Shaking her head, she turned to Shirin. “It’s aye stout, Commander, but no like t’other walls. Get me a sledge, a big ‘un, and I’ll have th’ hole for ya by th’ time yer Blade returns with th’ healer.

  Knowing Barta had worked her entire adult life swinging a hammer as a stonemason, Shirin turned to Shaya. “Tell Calit to send someone for a sledge from the foundry next to the Broken Tooth.”

  Shaya nodded and relayed the message. A quarter candlemark later, she wrestled the heavy-topped, thirty-pound hammer through the hole and checked to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally hit someone on the head when she dropped it. “Clear.” The sledge fell to the dirt.

  Prita picked it up and ran with it to the peasant woman who towered over her. While she didn’t need to, and in other circumstances, the gesture would have been inappropriate, she pulled her forelock before handing it to the woman.

  Barta stepped back and narrowed her eyes, unsure whether this young Blade was making fun of her wanting to help. When Prita continued holding the hammer between them, Barta took it from her and nodded.

  Shaya dropped a pickax next, and Prita hurried to grab it before anyone else could. On her way back to the wall, she worriedly glanced at Caitir. When she did, she saw that Sábria was watching her. When her Arch Priestess soberly nodded her praise, Prita’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. Not wanting anyone to see the heat rushing into her cheeks, Prita lowered her head and stepped opposite Barta.

  Prita wasn’t the biggest or strongest Blade, but before ordering another to take her place, Shirin watched to see how well she handled the rock-breaking tool. They didn’t have time to molly-coddle Prita’s ego, but neither would Shirin take away the girl’s chance to prove her mettle.

  Barta pointed at Prita’s scabbard hanging on her left side. “Ya carry yer sword there, so ya swing th’ blade with th’ other arm, Aye? I can swing wit’ both, so switch places wit’ me.” When they’d switched, Barta shouldered the sledgehammer. “I’ll swing on one, and ye’ll go on two.” Her hammer bit into the wall. With an accompanying grunt, she called out, “One.” The sledge sent ten times the amount of brick flying as her smaller hammer had done.

  “Two.” Prita’s ax bit into the exact place on the wall, loosening more of the hard clay. With Barta’s steady count, they fell into a rhythm, and the ax and hammer tore into the wall over and over. After a quarter candlemark, sweat beaded Prita’s brow. Her cheeks were flaming red, and she sucked air deep into her lungs after each swing, but she refused to stop. Barta wasn’t even winded.

  When Shirin judged the younger Blade was about to drop, she pointed to Sela, who growled. “Halt.” Sela, a dark-skinned woman whose arms had been toned through turns of being one of the most respected arms masters in the Temple, took the ax from Prita and stared fiercely into her eyes. The older Blade pursed her lips and nodded once, silently telling the young woman she’d done well stepping up to the challenge.

  To have such a well-respected Senior Guardian like Sela silently praise her was so unusual that when Prita turned away to get some water, there was a new pride in the set of her shoulders. She didn’t notice Sábria’s nod of approval this time, but it wasn’t necessary. She’d done what she could to help a fellow Blade, and that was reward enough. It seemed she’d turned a corner in her level of maturity, and neither Sábria nor Shirin would forget the effort Prita had put into opening a hole to get the Master Healer into the alley.

  CHAPTER 3

  Osstendler and the nine Blades she’d gathered on her way back to the Temple caught up to Soirin just as she was hurrying through the Temple gates with the Master Healer, the healer’s assistant, Kara, and a Blade with a collapsed stretcher slung over her shoulder. “Change in plans. Master Healer Haria⁠—”

  “Please, we’re in a hurry, and it will be easier if we just stick to Haria. Please don’t tell me Caitir has died and I’m no longer needed.”

  “She was still alive when I left, My Lady.” She motioned down the side of the Temple with a wave of her hand. “If we could walk and talk? I don’t think there’s much time.” Because the older healer probably couldn’t maintain a jog for an extended distance, a brisk walk was all they could hope for.

  At Soirin’s confused look at her Prime seemingly leading the healer in the wrong direction, Osstendler quickly filled her in. “We’re going to the trib docks. You’re in charge of Master Haria’s guard detail because we have to travel through the Foreign Quarter.”

  Soirin was an experienced Blade who knew enough not to question such a brief explanation as to why her orders had been changed. She simply brought her fist to her chest and began assigning guard positions to the Blades accompanying them.