Red Sales, pt3

“Come on, stop messing around. Open it already!”

“Fuck you Ish.” I tried again to pull apart the box. There were no hinges or lock on the damn thing.

“Bring the candle up here so I can see what I’m doing”. Khara leant forward, holding the candle and letting the wax drip down on my hands. She giggled.

“It is not the strength you must use. Look”.

I growled.

Ish pulled the box out of my hands. “Let the expert try.”

“You are having experience with delicate little things?” Khara raised an eyebrow and looked at Ish’s pants. Both of us laughed at his glare.

“I’ll have you know that…”

“The box Ish”.

He turned it over in his hands, examining every side. He tapped it “Aha! You only see a plain box, but if you just twist the corner, and” He hunched over the box like a stage magician over his top hat. I heard a click and suddenly Ish flourished the box before us with one hand. The other hand held the lid. But the only thing I really saw was the row of Imperials Lunes. A neat row of silver coins nestled in the centre of the box, reflected candlelight gleaming white on the bevelled edges. Both the others were also hypnotised by the wealth.

“This is just the holding fee?”

Khara nodded. These were uncut coins, not the little slugs of silver we normally saw. This would keep us in food and candles for months, if not longer. Never had I seen that much coinage in one place. OK, I lie, but never that much which I could claim was mine. My cheeks were hurting from the grin I couldn’t stop. The three of us exchanged a knowing look.

“Celebrate?” we said in unison. Then broke down laughing.

Ish walked over to the stack of railway sleepers that we were using as tables. Atop lay the Imperial armoury crates. The stamps on the sides warned of illusionary punishment if opened. I slid the lid aside and looked inside. “Almost a shame to sell them, but we don’t really need so many, do we?”

The five Imperial Forge model 17 long-barreled rifles sat side by side, accompanied by powder, shot, maintenance kits, and last, but not least, the grenades. The three still unopened crates promised more of the same. I carefully took out one of the grenades.

“I promised Steini one of these for his help.” My cheeks began to hurt again. “I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t try to pull it apart, they have a tendency to explode” Ish’s grin told me he was going to try exactly that as soon as I had left.

I pocketed the grenade and replaced the crate lid. Khara was reading the writing on the side. She tapped the letters written near the top. “This explains Mylera’s downpayment. The Bluecoats will not be looking for us. This is Ministry business.” She looked worried.

“But just imagine what we’ll be paid for the actual crates!” The small grin reappeared.

“This is correct. Mylera would never be so crass as to fail to keep a promise. The shame would follow her for years.”

Ish laughed. “Gods bless the Iruvians and their excessive honour!”

“Honour? Oh devils no. It is reputation. This is all that keeps society working. With no reputation, no one will speak to her. If no one speaks to her, then she can do nothing.” She nodded, looking serious, “No one would risk this embarrassment.”

Both Ish and I nodded sagely at this more understandable reasoning.

I put the grenade in my frock-coat. “So where do we meet?”

“There is only one place to celebrate correctly on a night like this. We must visit The Veil.” Khara ran her hands down her sides “Although I will need to exchange these rags”.

I blinked. My frock-coat was the best thing I owned, and it made me look like a beggar in comparison to Khara. She noticed my nervous look. “You do have something more appropriate?” I remained silent. “Well then,” she took off my weather beaten hat and ran her free hand through my blood-red hair, “We can work with this.” She paused while a sly smile grew on her face. “Perhaps you will convince your man to join us?”

“Steini? No. He would’t… No, he has his own things. I couldn’t…”

Khara giggled. “Run along my new companion in crime. Go and bring your… friend his present.”

My face was burning.

* * *

It would be faster to just kick in the door. The key finally caught the lock and the door clicked open. No one was home. Steini’s rifle and kit were hanging in his rough hammock, but his jacket and hat were not on the coat hanger by the door. Probably out for a quick meal. I peeled a corner of newspaper away from the window. No one lurking on the street. I went over to the table, moving aside the plates to leave the grenade in the centre of the table. A nightmare apple waiting to send someone into oblivion.

My kit was lying across my threadbare bedroll. I pulled out the few articles of clothing I had. The blouse would look somewhat presentable, but Khara would scream if I wore the shooting gloves to a ‘society’ event. There were some spare leather ties and a mirror. I looked at the door and tried to guess how long Steini had been gone. His wardrobe opened with a strong pull and revealed his collection of Akarosi fashions. At the back was his old Blackvale uniform jacket. I think the oversize coat would look better than mine.

I setup my tiny hand-mirror at the table. My hair had grown in the last months, and my temples were no longer bare. At least that hid obvious tattoos along the side of my head. Slowly, with much cursing, I tied the longer hair into a braid that ran back like a crest to my shoulders. A blood-red tail tied off with leather laces. The fuzz above my ears was annoying, but it wouldn’t look too unusual while wearing a hat. None of Steini’s would fit properly though, so I stuck with my old weather beaten one.

The chimes called out the 10^th hour. How did it get so late, and where the hell is Steini? A quick once over in the hand-mirror showed enough to leave me satisfied. Khara would probably still complain. Still no one on the street. I crossed the hallway and knocked on the door. Mrs Thropthwaite spent her days watching the passers-by on the streets and hallway, and complaining to anyone who would listen about falling moral standards. May as well put her hobbies to good use.

Her piggish eyes stared up at me from behind the protection of her doorway. “There are no men of low morals seeking company here young woman. Just go back into the fogs.”

My boot stopped the door before it slammed shut. “I sorry ma’am, have you been seeing Mr Arnarsson from across hallway?” Ish would be proud of my self control.

“That rude Skov?”

Sigh. “Yes. Cousin. I worry.”

Her whole face wrinkled as she gave me further scrutiny. Once she worked out who I was, or maybe just decided to spread some gossip to some strange woman, she opened the door a little and continued. “Oh yes, that ratty gentleman went outside not two hours ago. You have to understand I use the term gentleman in the loosest possible sense and I am sure that he owns no property or rents, and no true gentleman would keep the company I have seen passing by my very own door.”

She paused, staring at my face. Damn, I must have let something slip.

“Yes. You seeing where he go?”

She huffed. “See? Certainly not. What kind of woman do you think I am, spying on people and intruding on their business.” Yes exactly. “But a trio of men from the constabulary met him at the gate and seemed very insistent that he join them for a stroll. I wouldn’t dream of guessing the reasoning behind their request…” she just couldn’t stop the sly wink, “but I do believe that man capable of all manner of conduct. I would advise a young woman like yourself to avoid entanglement with such company…”

Bluejackets. Two hours and I’d been braiding my bloody hair? 

I left Mrs Thropthwaite giving her sermon. Steins’s long-rifle was too obvious, but the grenade was just begging to come for a walk in the night.

* * *

The Charhollow watch house had seen better days, especially with the street kids daring each other to throw rocks at the too-often replaced windows. No one liked the bluejackets, and in this predominantly Skovlander neighbourhood they were especially brutal. We never saw a blond or red-head wearing the uniform, only walking in while cuffed. Officially they were paid by the Ministry of Protection so that they would enforce the laws of the Empire. Practically they were just another gang running a whole series of protection rackets, they just happened to be better paid than most. I’d heard they picked a name out of a hat every night to blame whatever recent crime had come to the attention of the Ministry.

The blue spark-lights above the main doors reminded me to calm down. I slowed to a walk and took a few deep breaths. I still felt the hot flush from the run through the maze of alleyways to get here. The doors were open. A good toss and the grenade would take out a few rooms of bluejackets and cause a right mess. Climb in a back window and grab Steini, then out.

Only problem, I had no idea where he was, or any of the layout of the building for that matter.

I was waiting for a better idea to show itself then Steini came swaggering out the front door. His escort whispered in his ear before unlocking the cuffs and pushing him into the road. Steini threw a rude gesture back at the building. He raised his collar against the cold and adjusted his tricorne hat. The brief glow of a spark-lighter illuminated his bruised face and swollen eye. He had to grab my arms to stop from being bowled over by my hug.

“What, by the inky depths, happened?” I asked in skovik.

He grimaced. “I had my monthly massage. I reckon they’re better that the Iruvian sisters down the docks”

I threatened to punch him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get all lovey-dovey. They didn’t ask anything even vaguely interesting. Not even about the Lampblack dustup. They’re just looking for someone to pin for the fires last week. I guess my name came up in the weekly lottery.” He tried to grin again.

“Thanks. I guess this belongs to you.” I showed him the grenade pinned to the inside of my jacket. Well, his jacket.

“Oh, trying to get me under your clothing,” he stared at the coat, “hang on. Why are you wearing my coat?”

I slapped his back and led him back towards Nightmarket district. “This deserves a drink. Or three. Snowflake is throwing a little party for us at the Veil.”

“Who?”

“The Iruvian missy that was with us.”

“Oh, she’s cute. Anything going on there?”

I forced a smile. “I think you are a little old for her, but I’ll enjoy watching you flail about…”