Lapis folded her arms, an attempt to emulate Patch and his confident nonchalance. Her tummy twisted nervously, her brain zipping through terrible scenario after terrible scenario in a pathetic bid to weasel away from the Black Hats. Nothing she hastily planned would work, but she did not want to confront them, either.
As if she had a choice.
“I’m Lady Lanth,” she said in a voice that carried through the intersection. “And I don’t speak Ramish. So whatever you have to say to me, you need to say it in Jilvaynan or Lyddisian.”
The one who hailed her frowned, concentrating on her, then glanced at his fellows. They muttered among themselves and quickly came to an agreement about something, with much handwaving and excitement.
“Patch?” Nausea pounded against the base of her throat while her tummy made a valiant effort to become a pretzel.
“Keep alert,” he told her. Helpful. She pursed her lips as the talkative one stepped towards them.
“Me rupte sta Ramin?”
There was a long silence, before he yelled again.
“Rieug seu gran Ramin. In?”
“Who thinks visiting the Grey Streets and yelling Ramish is going to get them anywhere?” Lapis whispered as she heard a few scattered words from the curious onlookers, muffled by closed doors and windows.
“Those guys,” Patch offered. She hoped her glare seared him deep. Humor brightened his eye as he produced a quirky smile, a softer expression than she anticipated. “If they wanted us dead, they would have already attempted to take us out. They want something else.”
“The anticipation’s killing me.”
The man yelled a few more things before a woman, in a low-cut, knee-length slipdress and whose blonde hair came from a Dentherion bleach bottle, timidly stepped out of The Clever Cowl clothing store, clutching her hands, hard, at her chest. She glanced at Lapis and Patch, then focused on the impatient Black Hats. Whatever the man yelled, it convinced her to exit her place of safety, so they must have issued some threat. After a short exchange, she turned to them.
“Lady Lanth?”
“Yes?”
“Mitta here,” and she waved at the grey wooden storefront, “says you’re the one who runs the reading circle for the street rats.”
“Yes, I do. And you are?”
She dipped her chin, an abrupt action that knocked bangs into her dull brown eyes. “Dalle. My grandparents are Ramiran, so I know Ramish. I can help.”
“Thank you, Dalle. I don’t want to place you in danger, though.”
“It’s OK. They were threatening to do damage to the businesses if someone didn’t volunteer.”
“Because it’s obvious someone else who speaks Ramish would be around,” she said sarcastically.
Dalle smiled, her lips pulling tight enough across her teeth to thin them. “I would say, it’s a very Ramiran thing, to believe that.” She cleared her throat. “These . . . gentlemen are looking for someone, and they want you to find him.”
Lapis raised an eyebrow at that. Disbelief filtered through her chest. “They want to stake someone?”
Dalle asked, and the lead man waved a hand in dismissal. Another exchange, and she turned to them again. “I don’t think they understand what a stake is,” she said, underlying frustration coloring her tone. “They say you will find this person for them. I don’t think they mean to pay.”
“Do they expect us to work for free?” Patch asked drolly.
“I’m not certain they even know what they want.”
Figures. “Who are they looking for?” Lapis asked. “And I’m going to charge them for this stake.” The darkness of dread anticipation descended; she did not think this would end well, especially considering how confident the Black Hats were in thinking they could force her to do what they wanted. And why her? Why not another chaser? Did they think they could bully her into doing something for free due to gender?
The Black Hat narrowed his eyes in displeasure and snapped at Dalle. She flinched but did not back away, before translating.
“They are looking for someone named Aethon. They say he’s your partner.” She timidly studied Patch. “But . . . we all know that you’re her partner.”
“I am,” he agreed. “So they’re looking for a guy named Aethon who’s supposed to be Lanth’s partner. Does he look like me?”
Lapis hissed at him; he just grinned wider in return. He had to wonder, who, exactly, spread this rumor using his old name. It placed them both in danger, because if Gall found out one of the rebels he thought executed had survived and prospered, he would not stop until he arrested—and tried to kill—Patch again.
She caught her breath at the thought.
Another exchange, as all the Black Hats focused on Patch and grew increasingly antsy. The lead man barked at them, and they deflated, shoulders slumping, heads bowing, but their distrust swam in the air about them. The guttershanks waited, expectant, as if they anticipated the syndicate men to start a fight at any moment. The Ramirans glanced suspiciously at them, and she wondered if they might decide to rid Jiy of a few nosy shanks.
Dalle licked her lips before translating. “They don’t know what this Aethon looks like. They only know that Lady Lanth’s supposed to be partners with him. They don’t think Patch is this person, so they don’t think he’s your partner.”
“Have they heard of Patch?” Lapis asked drily.
“They have. The man who took a five metgal stake out on a Dentherion soldier. They’re . . . not happy he’s with you. I don’t think they want to upset him, but they also want to know where this Aethon is.”
“I’m not partners with Aethon. I’ve never met anyone by that name. This is a weird misunderstanding.” She thought it odd, when she first learned that Hoyt believed her partner’s name was Aethon. Guard Superior Fyor and Lord Adrastos puzzled over why the underboss assumed that, and she still had no answer as to who targeted Patch using his pre-rebel name. Predi had connected them, but the hunter met his end on that rainy night at Tree Streets Guardhouse. Who else possessed the information?
“I’ll tell them, but I don’t think they’re in the mood to listen.”
They were not. After her words, they drew weapons, and the guttershanks in the alley squealed, enjoying the show.
“They really are this stupid,” Patch grumbled. Did he mean the shanks or the Black Hats?
They waited, unmoving, while Dalle fled. The leader yelled after her, but she whisked into the store before anyone shot at her. Good. No reason for her to suffer their threats while within range.
A petulant snarl pulled the enemy’s mouth down, before he sighted on them and waved the tip of the gun towards the street he and his buddies initially walked. Lapis took a step, Patch with her, and the leader barked something, stabbing the weapon at her partner, and then pointing in the opposite direction.
“No,” he said, clear and crisp.
They frowned and looked at each other, at a loss how to proceed when a man they thought to intimidate did not feel the terror they wanted. They should count themselves lucky, that he had yet to take exception to their idiocy. He held no love for any who associated with the empire, no matter how low-level lackey they may be.
The ugliness to the leader’s expression disappeared, leaving behind a confused frown. He waited a moment, then pulled a rectangular, shiny thing from his pants pocket and tapped at the surface before walking to them. Lapis tensed, concerned that the object was some sort of weapon, but he flipped it about and thrust it at her. The screen held a square with a radio wave in the middle that jiggled back and forth, words written in Ramish below it. A man’s voice, speaking Ramish, erupted from the device. Ah, communications tech. The leader shoved it at her again, and she took it, concerned but curious.
“Hello?”
A pause. “Are you Lady Lanth?” the voice asked. He spoke Jilvaynan with the Dentherion tourist accent, so she assumed he was from the empire’s country.
“I am.” She pondered, how much boredom to shove into her voice. She did not want the man on the other side to think she feared the tech, or him. That would ruin some of her reputation, though she doubted she would ever attain Patch’s hard edge.
“I am Leadcommander Requet of the Estark Skyshroud. I believe my men have informed you that we are searching for a particular man in your acquaintance.”
Leadcommander? She had moved up in the world, since a Dentherion officer wished to speak with her. She filed the name of the skyshroud for future investigation and focused on the bouncing line. “Ah, yes. Someone named Aethon. Funny, an underboss named Hoyt thought the same thing. Didn’t get him anywhere, either, because I’ve never met anyone named Aethon.”
Patch nudged her. “You’re supposed to be more polite than that,” he said, loud enough to reach the person on the other end.
“I’m a Jilvaynan,” she muttered. “No politeness in me.”
“You are in company.” Requet did not sound happy. Why? Did it interfere with his bullying?
“Yes, I’m with my partner.”
“I see.” His excitement changed his voice higher.
“He goes by Patch.”
Silence.
“As I said, I’ve never met anyone named Aethon. Patch and I have been partners for eight years, quite long enough for me to know his name is Patch and not Aethon.”
He smirked, the ass. She supposed, she needed to thank Faelan for informing her about his past, because she could play with that rather than bumble about, bewildered as to why so many thought her partner was this Aethon.
“Patch is Danaea’s partner. This is common knowledge, and she is forthright about it.”
Patch’s sour disgust at the declaration amused her, though she found it odd Requet spoke as if the hunter were still alive and hinted he worked with her. Why have his men search for Jerin if they thought she lived? What connection did the woman have to the Dentherions, that a skyshroud leadcommander even knew her name?
Lapis smiled at the Black Hat leader. “Danaea told the guard that so they wouldn’t cheat her on stakes. And, as you so nicely put it Leadcommander, this is common knowledge in the Grey and Stone Streets communities.”
He reacted to her words, though his men remained oblivious. How much Jilvaynan did he understand? Did he attempt to spy in plain sight? She wished him luck, because by detaining them, he had fallen on Patch’s bad side—and his bad side was quite the dark experience, particularly for the witless who thought themselves clever.
“She uses chasers in this manner.” The leadcommander tried to hide his unhappiness, but it peeked through the formal tone.
“At one point or another, she claimed every chaser with a reputation and sizable bank account,” Patch said, his scorn apparent. “Though she rode the names of hunters the most. She brandished them like a hammer, to get what she wanted. Because of it, no one in the Grey and Stone Streets trusted her.”
“Including you.”
“Especially me.”
After a lengthy pause, Requet cleared his throat. “I would like to speak with you in person, Lady Lanth.”
Would he, now. “I’m not averse to a meeting at the Night Market.”
“Night Market?” he asked, confused.
“It’s a large market and dining establishment in the Grey Streets. It’s where I conduct business.” At least, the business she did not trust.
“The skyshroud—”
“No. Your men attacked Sir Armarandos at the Lells today. If you have so little respect for Jilvaynan authority, what might a simple chaser face in your company?”
“That . . . was a regrettable accident.”
Accident.
“The woman with him provoked a response.” He sounded as if he spoke through his teeth.
Patch laughed and Lapis had a nasty internal fight with herself before firming her jaw and keeping her snarly reaction to herself. “I see. Since your men find such provocation in a woman’s words, we shall only speak through this device. I’m afraid my life would be greatly shortened without this precaution.”
“I am certain you are nothing like the woman with Sir Armarandos, Lady Lanth.”
Lapis’s neck hair tickled, overriding her fury over his patronizing comment. She glanced at Patch, who looked like a cat with the thickest cream. His relaxed stance indicated someone with firepower had arrived, though she did not want to bring attention to them by searching for them.
“I am certain you are quite wrong about that, Leadcommander. I have never been known for a smooth disposition or elegant conversation. If you wish to speak with me, come to the Night Market. Ask the rats to find me. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll join you.” She tossed the device at the startled leader, who fumbled with it before slamming it against his chest, heaving in terror. With a wane smile, she walked away.
“Well, that was fun,” her partner snickered as the Black Hats shouted after them.
“I want to make certain Dalle is OK.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
She whisked into the store and realized why Patch possessed so little care for Black Hat moodiness; rebels peered through the cracked, filmy windows, and while they did not have obvious signs of weaponry, they carried them. If the enemy did see fit to follow her, it would be the final mistake they made. She smiled at Tearlach, who nodded, and focused on Dalle, who stood on tiptoe behind the rebels, craning her neck to get a better look.
“Thank you for interpreting, Dalle,” Lapis said. “I’m glad you got out of there when you did.”
“I thought they were going to use their tech,” she said, her voice thinning with concern.
“They still might, but I doubt it,” Patch remarked as he glanced out the window. “I think they’re going to take their bad experience out on those guttershanks.”
“That there shank’s Mollis,” the shopkeep said, hustling from behind the counter. “He’s shook down most of us on Barren Hills, but his protection’s nil. Hope they do light his ass.”
“Mitta,” Dalle sighed.
“Surprised he hasn’t fallen afoul of a smarter shank,” Patch murmured. “Brawn only gets you so far.”
“Those of us with stores here, we don’t make much. It isn’t worth it, to most shanks to bother.” Mitta’s eyes grazed her merchandise. The display pieces were nothing exceptional, simple work attire and a few dresses with a bit of lacy flare for special evenings. Richer undershanks ignored the not-lucrative establishments.
“What are the Black Hats doing here?” Tearlach asked, his eyes glued to whatever transpired outside.
“They were following a tech bird down the street,” Lapis told him. “They were searching for someone. I doubt it was me, but when they saw me, they called me by my name.”
“I wonder who Aethon is.” Dalle ran her fingers through her hair, nervous. “He’s in trouble, falling on the wrong side of Dentheria.”
“There isn’t a chaser named Aethon in Jiy,” Patch said. “And I don’t recall anyone by that name in Coriy or Vraindem, either. They have bad intel, and they’re going to try and make Lanth fix it.” He hmphed. “For all their advanced tech, they can’t even get a stake’s name right.”
Every Grey Streets person within the store murmured assent, their eyes shining with the satisfaction of witnessing a terrible enemy make a mistake and look the fool for it. She did not doubt, the gossip about that would fly far and fast.
“Thank you for keepin’ Dalle safe.” Mitta spread her arms wide. “We sell clothes and a few specialty items here, and you should get somethin’.”
“Thank you,” Lapis said, putting the warmth of gratitude in her words. “But we didn’t do much. Dalle did the talking.”
“Nonsense. If you hadn’t been around—and with Patch—to intimidate them, they would’ve done worse.” She returned to the counter and rustled about in the shelving below before retrieving a medium-sized brown paper bag with the store’s name scrawled in heavy ink across the bottom. She bustled to Lapis, rolling the top to create a handle, and shoved the item into her chest. “On the house,” she stated proudly.
Mitta obviously thought the story would attract custom and bragging that she and Patch obtained clothing from her would entice the curious. Lapis imagined she would retell the tale, exaggerating enough to captivate her customers, then ply them with how much the two chasers loved her wares.
Her partner jerked his chin, and Tearlach, along with a couple of others, slipped out the back way. She weighed the sack, thanked the shopkeep, and followed, curious as to what the bag held but refusing to peek until she had a moment to herself.
Open and end parts are good. The middle in the House is a bit muddled and confusing with all the characters involved and mentioned. Great work!