“The wedding is tomorrow,” I said. “You should think about getting a new suit.”
He cussed and slammed his door.
There are two ways to travel south out of Rannit-the old forest roads that creep through the forest via the South Gate or down the Brown itself.
A man in a hurry would opt for the Brown. The forest roads are overgrown and prone to disgorge bandits, bears and bobcats from every tallish shrub. Half the bridges are out and the other half were never built to begin with.
River travel, on the other hand, is fast and cheap. Especially to places like Wall Downs, where one could readily book passage on the same barges that deliver cargos of grain, coal or lumber.
So that’s where I headed, cursing the traffic and gritting my teeth. If Carris Lethway wound up aboard a southbound boat before I made the docks, I’d be forced to follow. Even a trip to Wall Downs would wind up taking a couple days, and that was time I didn’t have.
My cab rolled to a halt blocks from the Docks. I leaned out to see why, and found the street clogged with wagons and cabs and carriages, all jostling and scraping, unable to move in anything other than fits and starts.
Even the sidewalks were choked, as mobs abandoned their vehicles and made for the Docks on foot.
I did the same. The cabbie cursed at me despite a hefty tip. I ignored him and joined the masses as half of Rannit headed for a boat out of town.
It wasn’t quite pandemonium yet, but it was a half-dozen pushes and a few thrown punches from turning that way. Men were hauling bundles and chests. Women were carrying babies and bags. Kids were clinging to their parent’s sleeves and bawling with every step.
The Watch appeared, here and there, red-faced from whistle-blowing and bellicose shouting. I saw a Watch nightstick rise and fall just once, when a drunk wouldn’t listen to the sweet voice of reason, but other than that, violence never quite erupted.
It took two hours to make the Docks. There I was confronted with a wall of panicked travelers, each trying to push the other aside in a mad, hopeless bid for a place on anything mildly buoyant that claimed to be heading south.
They say the Watch managed to keep people from being pushed right off the wharfs and into the river by charging the crowd dozens of times with Watchmen mounted on the same enormous Percheron horses bred for use against Trolls.
I never saw the horses. I did hear the screams.
I couldn’t have found Carris Lethway had he been juggling flaming torches and blowing out a tune on a trumpet.
I tried. Oh yes, I did. I waded into that mob, shoved my way ahead with elbows and knees, punched strangers in the kidneys, shoved kindly old dowagers aside with my shoulders. I did exactly the things I imagined Carris Lethway would do, but in the end all I got for my troubles was a fresh set of bruises and a guilty conscience.
By the time I reached the wharf, the boats were gone. I could still see the rear of the makeshift flotilla, which was composed of everything from barges to barrels. Each and every craft was packed to the rails with as many souls as they could bear.
Only the front ranks of the mob could see this, and they were trapped there by the mass of shoving humanity.
The mob showed no signs of thinning. I remembered all the traffic I’d passed, heading for the Docks, and I knew things were only going to get worse.
I switched the hand cannon from my jacket pocket to my belt.
I folded my jacket before I hung it neatly across the rail. My shoes went beneath it. With deep regret, I placed my new hat there as well.
If anyone shouted when I went over the rail, I didn’t hear. Then the muddy waters of the Brown closed over me, and I fought for the surface and began my long swim south.
I was in the water for most of an hour before I found a place to come ashore.
The crowds had given up on finding a boat and settled instead on the time-honored pastimes of fighting, arson and looting. Smoke hung low in the still, chilly air. Men ran back and forth, seemingly aimlessly, until you realized they were looking for undamaged businesses to loot.
I climbed shivering out of the Brown at an empty barge mooring. I was dripping wet and shoeless and no one gave me a second look.
Finding a cab was out of the question. Honest folk fled the looting. I resolved to do the same, as quickly as my sock feet could take me.
The streets, never paragons of cleanliness, were filled with broken glass. I was forced to skip and hop from bare patch to bare patch, dodging mean-eyed bands of youths all the while.
I made a single block before I caught sight of a shoemaker’s shop. The plate glass windows were shattered. The shelves were bare or broken.
I went inside anyway. I found a left shoe that fit and a right shoe that fit. They didn’t match. I didn’t care.
Then I put my looted shoes to good use by heel and toeing it out of there as fast as I could huff and puff my way east.
Trouble dogged my steps. What I’d thought was an incident on the Docks was spreading south and east as fast I was. Watch whistles sounded on all sides, as did the breaking of glass and shouting and the hoof beats of panicked horses.
I kept to alleys and back streets. I pulled back into doorways when bands of men approached. I hurried away from shouts and taunts and dodged hurled bricks as best I could.
I’d heard of the Bread Riots, of course. Everyone had. I’d been dodging Troll arrows far from Rannit, but tales of the Riots were the first things I heard upon coming home. I’d wondered if the tales had been embellished. I had trouble believing law and order would break down so completely and so quickly.
I wasn’t having trouble believing anymore. The Watch had given up going after looters. As far as I could tell, they were instead intent on putting out fires and giving the odd murderous blow to anyone openly conducting robbery in the street.
But even so, the smoke from a hundred fires began to rise and trail across Rannit’s sky.
I made for Darla’s. I’d tried to find Carris. I’d done my best and nearly drowned in the process. If he was on a boat heading south that might be the best place for him. At least he had a pocketful of coins and shoes that matched.
But if anyone felt compelled to loot Darla’s place, they were going to have to loot my damp ass first.
I didn’t fire the hand cannon again. I wasn’t sure it would fire, after taking a swim. I’d have gleefully chopped off a finger to have Toadsticker back in my hand, but I had to make do with a stout length of oak I found in the street. That, and my pungent aroma, kept would-be hooligans at bay all the way to Destride.
I rounded the corner and nearly broke into song. Someone in the Watch retained partial use of his senses. They’d barricaded the streets with commandeered cabs and placed archers at prominent points along the barricade. Scores of regular Army were joining them, running about and waving plain lethal Army swords in a manner that sent looters and arsonists shuffling back the way they’d come.
I drew a dozen hard looks as I threw down my knocking stick and put my hands above my head and slowly approached the barricade.
“My name is Markhat,” I shouted. “Captain Markhat.” The words stuck in my throat. “The Corpsemaster will vouch for me.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Regent’s wife.”
Nervous laughter sounded down the ranks.
“I heard she had a thicker beard.”
“Wait right there.” The speaker hesitated a moment. “Sir.”
I nodded and kept my hands raised. His tone told me he’d never heard of me, but he did know better than to randomly slaughter persons who, however slight the chance, might be officers in the service of the Corpsemaster.
I nearly dove for cover when I heard the sudden twang of a bow being loosed, but I saw an arrow wobble harmlessly into a trash-bin down the street and I realized some nervous kid had let his sweaty fingers slip off the bowstring.