It was Thursday night.
It came faster than I expected, or maybe I just hadn't been paying attention.
If I could have chosen, I'd still be at the press, or at a warehouse, dealing with the business side of things.
Instead, I was walking behind the boss.
Just the two of us. No grunts, not even Emilia, whom the boss seemed to like having around.
There were no fighters, no scouts, no runners, no signals, and no plan.
Just the street stretching ahead of us.
I didn't like it, though I didn't say it out loud.
How did I end up in a situation like this?
How my life had twisted into danger, where I was walking through Astar at night, heading toward the heart of the worst gang in the city, beside a man who looked like a child and planned to kill them all.
The boss hadn't said much since we left. I guess he was thinking.
His steps were slow and heavy, as if he were turning something over in his mind.
What bothered me was that he wasn't wearing his armor.
None of the dark plates that fit so well together when he wore it. He had no weapon either, nothing visible, at least, but that didn't mean much.
He was a mage, so maybe it was different.
I kept glancing at him.
Did he think he was enough?
I wasn't a fighter anymore. Not really. I could swing a knife if I had to. I could hurt someone if cornered. But over the years I'd lost most of my edges in that office.
I usually liked knowing where an exit was if things got too rough.
But that's not something I could do with the boss around.
The Hopeless practically advertised where they lived. When you were in the right places in Astar, you saw banners and signs carved into walls that let you know that you were in their territory.
And right now, we were stepping into their home turf.
I shifted the weight on my shoulder.
The rope was heavy. A lot heavier than I'd expected.
The boss had been very clear about that part.
"Bring rope," he'd said.
"How much?" I'd asked.
"A lot."
So I'd brought a lot.
Coils and coils of it, thick and rough, the kind that burned your hands when rubbed against it. Enough to bind dozens of people. Enough that my shoulder ached now, even after swapping sides twice.
I didn't ask what it was for.
If the plan was to kill them all, why the rope?
You don't need rope for corpses.
Maybe we'd hang the dead - or hang them before they were dead. A message of some sort.
As it was night, there were no lights, and we skulked through the darkness.
The streets were narrow and dirty. A horse would refuse to walk through this.
I slowed a bit, letting more distance open between us, then closed it again. I didn't want to look nervous. Didn't want to look eager either.
The boss stopped.
Just like that.
He stood still, looking ahead at a dirty building that didn't stand out much from the rest.
"This is it," he said. "Doesn't look like much."
I nodded.
I looked around. No movement. No voices. But I knew better than to think that meant anything. Places like this didn't need guards standing out in the open. They relied on people being afraid, and if that didn't work, a dozen people would jump out of the shadows to knife you.
"If things go wrong," I said carefully, "what do you want me to do?"
He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me. "They won't, but stay behind me, and do exactly what I tell you."
That was it.
I wasn't a child; I didn't need reassurance or a speech, but I still felt nervous.
He stepped forward.
The boss didn't hesitate.
Plates formed where there had been nothing before. A thin breastplate wrapped over his chest, close to the body. Not bulky, seemingly just enough to turn a blade, dark and dull.
Then greaves traced themselves down his legs. And then a helmet. It was light and covered his entire face, except for a few slits.
It appeared from the same seemingly nothing as the other armor. It was nothing like the armor he usually wore.
And though it was a full black, it wasn't intimidating.
It almost seemed like decorative armor instead of practical.
I'd seen some magic before. Flashy spells. Fire and lightning and glowing symbols.
This wasn't like anything I'd seen before.
He stepped forward again, and this time he didn't stop.
He drew in a breath.
Then he raised his voice.
"Alice Burr!"
It wasn't a shout, not exactly. He didn't strain his throat. He didn't have to. His voice rolled down the street, and everyone could hear him clearly in the night's quiet.
"Come out!"
The silence stretched.
Then he spoke again, just as loud, just as calm.
"I am here to kill you."
I felt my fingers tighten on the rope without meaning to.
"And every one of your men."
That did it.
I heard movement. Distant at first. A door slamming somewhere deeper in the block. A window opening and closing too fast. Boots scraping on stone.
The place was waking up.
He just stood there, like he had all the time in the world. He didn't ready a weapon.
He turned his head slightly toward me.
"Gullyman," he said.
"Yes, boss."
"Find a place where you won't bother me. Somewhere you won't be in the way," he said. "Somewhere you can stay put."
I nodded. That I could do.
I moved quickly now, keeping low, the rope bumping against my side. I found a narrow alcove between two buildings, half-hidden by a collapsed awning. Not comfortable, but it would do.
From there, I could still see him.
Figures were starting to appear at the far end of the street.
Shadows peeling away from shadows.
Armed silhouettes. Too many to count right away.
And still, the boss didn't move.
I pressed my back against the stone and wondered if Alice Burr had any idea what she was about to walk out to meet.
More doors opened. People poured out of the buildings like they'd been waiting just behind the walls. Alleys spat them out. Stairwells coughed them onto balconies. Windows banged open and shut.
They had mismatched weapons in their hands. Axs with chipped heads. Knives that had seen kitchens before they'd seen throats. Clubs. Hooks. Things meant to hurt up close.
A lot of them. They had no organization.
They spread out without being told, half-circling the boss. Like dogs that knew there were more of them than teeth on the other side.
I shrank a little deeper into my spot and kept my hands on the rope. My palms were damp. I wiped one on my coat and didn't feel better for it.
Then the crowd parted.
A woman came through them like she owned the ground.
I assumed that she was Alice Burr. She was fat, with broad shoulders and a very thick neck.
Half of her head was shaven, and on the bald spot was a massive tattoo.
Her face was hard.
She smiled. Many of her teeth were blackened. Rot, or dye, or both. I didn't know.
"What the hell is this?" she said, voice rough and loud. "Who's yelling my name in my street saying they'll kill me?"
"I am," the boss said.
Alice's eyes dragged over him, slow. Took in the armor. His size. The lack of backup. Just one man standing in the open like he'd lost his way.
"And you are?"
"I am here to kill you."
It was quiet for half a second.
Then Alice laughed.
It wasn't a big laugh. No head thrown back. Just a sharp bark of sound, like something snapping.
"Kill me," she repeated. She glanced around at her people. "You hear that?"
A few of them chuckled. Others just grinned.
She stepped forward once. "You come alone. No colors. No crew. No message except that?"
"That's enough," the boss said.
Her smile went flat.
She spat on the ground. "You picked the wrong night to be stupid. I've heard someone was out for us, for me - that's stupid in and of itself - but I didn't think it would just be one guy. That's stupid in two. Who are you anyway? You don't look like much - just a little squirt."
She walked around the boss, and while she reached out a hand, one of her underlings gave her an ax.
"I could kill you," she swung the ax in the air, "one swing, and it's over. And there'd dozens of us. Wanna see what you look like after a dozen swings?"
The ax was close to the face of the boss, but he still didn't react.
She scoffed and lifted her other hand and snapped her fingers, casual as anything.
"Kill him."