Threading the Needle (14 page)

Allan slowed to a trot, then halted, as he heard the trapdoor they'd just left behind open and clatter down into the building. Without turning, he knew more of the Tunnelers were filling the rooftop behind him.

Cutter looked back, a question in his eyes. Attack or stand down?

Allan lowered his sword.

K
A
RA'S STOMACH SCRAPED OVER THE TOP
of another garden wall, her body already sore, then she dropped to the ground on the far side.

Dylan grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “Move. They're right behind us.”

She allowed him to lead her diagonally across the garden in a half crouch, to where Adder and Kent were ushering the rest of their group through a side door that led into a servant's alley between two buildings. Gaven and Jack were already running ahead of them, barely discernible in the darkness. None of the distortion's light made it into this crevice. Behind, she heard the alley's door clatter shut, followed by the Dogs' heavy tread. And behind that she could hear a sudden uproar from the Rats and Tunnelers. The raw viciousness of the sound made her chest ache.

Then they were at the street, Gaven and Jack holding them back in the shadows.

“I don't think they saw us duck into this alley. Can we stay hidden once we're out there?”

“Not really.”

The street was angled so that it was almost completely lit by the light thrown by the distortion. Kara expected to see another section of houses, but the landscape changed from row houses to three- and four-story tenements that spanned entire blocks, separated from each other by parks. The buildings had distinct architectural styles, to differentiate each from the other. A few surrounded their own courtyards, one or two with gates.

She glanced toward the distortion. They were closer now. “Where are the others? I thought they'd be right behind us.”

“It doesn't matter. Allan said to get to the new safe house if we could, without being followed.” Adder had shifted forward through the group. He scanned the empty street before them, then back at the alley. The sounds of the pursuing Rats—or maybe they were Tunnelers—grew louder. “Head for the building there, with the courtyard. As fast as you can go.”

He tapped Jack's shoulder, the tracker sprinting across the debris-strewn street. There were chunks of stone littering the street here, not just ley carts and abandoned wagons and other possessions. She wondered if they were the remains of one of Grass' towers.

Adder sent Kent, Gaven, and Dylan next, bringing up the rear himself, Kara just before him. His footfalls behind her were light at first, then drowned out by her own breathing. Those ahead of her made it to the gates to the courtyard, the wrought iron screeching as Jack shoved it open to get inside. Adder cursed behind her—at the noise or at whatever was behind them, Kara couldn't tell. She picked up her pace anyway, aiming for the gate as Kent and Dylan twisted through the small opening. Dylan held the gate back for her as she slowed and ducked inside, his face lifting and registering fear a moment before she slid past him. Adder's hand shoved her out of the way and she stumbled to the interior walkway, biting back a cry as her hands scraped on the stone path.

Then Adder grabbed her around the waist and flung her to one side. She gasped in astonishment, before a hand clamped over her mouth.

They glared at each other. Then Kara noticed everyone in the group pressed up against the stone wall that housed the gate. Adder held her against his body, turned away slightly so that he could peer through the wrought iron into the street beyond. Kara forced herself to relax, then struggled lightly, until Adder looked back and let her go.

She pressed against the stone wall like the others. Outside the courtyard, their pursuers shouted, a few older voices giving out orders. Feet tramped back and forth, across the street at first, but then closer. Shadows bolted past the front of the gates. They tore up the street, calling out to other groups Kara couldn't see.

“What have you got?” someone shouted, so close Kara jerked back against the wall. Pebbles rattled down from the top of the wall,
bouncing off Kara's head and clattering on the stone path of the courtyard. Adder shot everyone a harsh look, held his hand out and signaled them all back against the wall as he stepped deeper into the shadows.

Silence from outside the gate, where before there had been the noise of pacing feet and movement. A listening silence, broken only by the sounds of other groups searching farther away.

A shadow appeared in the gate opening again and paused. Kara could only see the top of the head, close to her feet, distorted by the wrought iron's shadow. Adder's hand shifted, grip tightening on his sword.

“Richten!”

The shadow shifted, head turned, then moved away.

Kara exhaled slowly.

“What?”

“The Underearthers have caught someone on the roof.”

Allan? The others? Did they get all of them or only some?

And then her skin prickled with horror. If they were reporting on the Tunnelers, that meant they were Rats.

Their leader cursed. “How did you let this happen?” A fist slammed into flesh and someone cried out. A scuffle followed, punctuated by whimpers, as if someone were being beaten or kicked.

The beating stopped, someone gasping from the effort, another moaning.

“Fletch isn't going to be happy.”

“No shit.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

A considered silence, along with the crunch of grit as someone moved about. A street away, the battle between the Rats and Tunnelers escalated for a moment, then faded again.

The shadow reappeared, one arm rising to clutch at the iron before dropping.

“Mouse, head back to the main group and report.” The leader moved away again. “Vole, I want you to . . .” Richten's voice dropped too low for Kara to make out.

A moment later, a group of at least three or four broke away. Kara shifted, but Adder held up a hand in warning, still listening.

“What do we do about him?”

“Pick him up and drag him back with us.”

More feet scuffling, followed by a groan and the sound of someone being dragged away. Richten shouted more orders to those still combing the street beyond, but the sounds of the search were fading.

Kara leaned her head back against the stone behind her, eyes closed.

After ten minutes, Adder finally moved, stepping away from the wall. Kara opened her eyes, but said nothing as he leaned toward the gate and checked the street. Kara hadn't heard anyone for over five minutes, only the muted sounds of the fighting a street or more away.

A few of the others moved up to Kara's side.

“Are they gone?” Dylan asked.

Adder shot him a glare, but straightened. “I think so.”

“Then let's get out of here.”

“What about Allan and the others? You heard them. The group from the ley station caught them. We have to help them.”

“We don't even know if that's true. Or how many they caught.”

“Kent's right. We need to regroup back at the new safe house, as Allan ordered, see if anyone from the other group shows up.”

“What if no one else shows?”

“We'll deal with that later.”

The group considered this in silence, Kara thinking of Allan and Artras.

“Where's the new safe house then? I don't know where we are.”

“This way. We're at the edge of the Clay District now.”

Adder shifted toward the gates, peered out into the street as he spoke, Kara moving up behind him. She couldn't see anything except debris, although her gaze fell to a section of the nearest rubble where a dark blotch of blood now stained the cobbles.

As he stepped carefully through the twisted opening of the gate, Kara asked, “How far is it?”

“About three blocks down. We'll stay in Clay for a while, bypass the Rats and Tunnelers, then cut back in—”

“Well, well, well. I was right.”

Adder spun, sinking into a crouch, as a Rat rose from behind a toppled ley cart twenty paces distant. Kara's hand reached for the knife in her belt. Behind her, Kent tried to squeeze between the iron gate and got caught, cloth ripping as he yanked himself free. Gaven, Jack, and Dylan were still in the courtyard.

The Rat smiled, his teeth surprisingly white in the dirt-smear of his face. He was tall and thin, his face narrow, like a real rat's, his hair mussed and wild. His eyes were pinched and cruel.

He motioned with one hand and over two dozen Rats rose from their positions behind the scattered debris, all with weapons. All except the leader, Richten.

“Adder!”

Kara turned at Jack's shout to see more Rats dropping from the lower windows of the building that framed the rest of the courtyard.

They were surrounded.

Cory hunched down in the dense foliage of the forest and cursed beneath his breath. He thought for certain that the group of men and women traipsing through the trees on either side of the spot where he and two other guards from the Hollow were hunkered would hear it. Sweat trickled down his forehead and he dashed it away with one hand, his other resting on the handle of the sword sheathed at his waist. He'd become more comfortable with the weapon in the long practices, enough that he'd been chosen to help with the patrols surrounding the Hollow, but it still felt foreign to him when he was wielding it. Others in the training group were naturals; he was only passable. But they were younger than him, and most had been trained for more strenuous physical labor. Cory had been a candlemaker's son, then a student at the University. Everything about the sword felt unnatural.

But the Hollow needed guardsmen. These intruders were proof.

Reiss, crouched ten paces away, hissed to catch Cory's attention, then signaled with a flash of his fingers, almost too fast for Cory to follow.

How many?

Cory scanned the group, raising his head tentatively above the brush to do a quick count.

Five south, seven north
.

Weapons?

Bows. Swords.

Reiss shifted his weight so that he could converse with Joss, bow across his knees. Reiss was Cory's age, Joss a few years older, but he'd taken control of the patrol without saying a word. He knew the woods better than any of them.

Cory turned back to the intruders. The men were all rough, fitted out in bits and pieces of armor, most of it matching, but not all. They picked their way through the forested hillside, staying clear of the dense brush beneath the trees, following deer trails or staying near the narrow stream that trickled between the hills to either side. Cory, Reiss, and Joss were on the southern hill just above the stream, the five intruders on their side on the bank above them, where a ridge of land made it easier to climb. The other seven were on the far side, scattered, all of them moving steadily to the west. None of them looked comfortable, cursing when a booted foot slipped in the matted leaves or earth. Most were sporting full beards, one or two with the narrow faces of Temerites. Two were women.

Cory startled when someone touched his shoulder, twisted to find both Reiss and Joss beside him. He hadn't heard them approach.

“They're following the stream.” Reiss' voice was barely audible. The others were making so much noise moving through the trees they couldn't possibly hear it. Reiss' eyes shifted constantly, both forward, where the intruders had passed them, and back the way they'd come. “Do you recognize them?”

“No, but I wasn't on any of the expeditions to the plains.”

“They come from the plains, though. Look at how they're moving through the woods.” Joss motioned toward those on the northern bank.

“I'd bet they're part of the group that attacked Bryce's wagon a few months back. The ones that killed Terrim and nearly got Claye.”

“What are they doing here?”

“Looking for us.”

“What should we do? Go back and warn the Hollow?”

Reiss considered, then shook his head. “We'll follow them. See where they go. The Hollow is far enough south there's no chance they'll find it the way they're headed. But if there are more of them, Bryce will want to know.”

They waited until the last of the group had been gone ten minutes, then followed, Reiss scouting ahead. Cory and Joss stuck close to the stream, where the sounds of the running water would help mask their movements.

An hour later, the sound of a starling cut through the natural sounds of the wood and both Joss and Cory halted and dropped into a crouch.

Reiss trotted toward their position. “They've halted near a small
waterfall ahead of us. They're arguing about what to do next. I think they're going to cut back this way. Joss, I want you to head back to the Hollow. Warn Bryce and the patrols.”

“What are you and Cory going to do?”

“Continue following them. I want to see where their camp is.”

Reiss gripped Joss' shoulder before he took off in a low crouch, weaving his way up over the top of the southern hill between the trees.

Ten minutes later, once again hunkered down in a stand of thick brush, Cory and Reiss watched the dozen bandits backtrack, many of them grumbling. One of them—a hard man, face scarred with pox, beard rangy—passed within five paces of them. He reeked, the stench assaulting Cory's nostrils, making him gag.