‘She don’t know where he is,’ wailed Shirl taking a step forward. ‘None of us do.’
Palien didn’t have to say nothing; one of his men just walked forward and kneed Shirl right in his thigh. The fat man went down with a squeal.
‘Friedrik won’t be happy if you gut me, will he?’ said Rag. ‘You’ll be in for it then.’
‘Not if he’s dead and gone,’ Palien snarled. ‘And I think he is. I think you might be the one that made it happen. I’ve been watching you, girl. Slinking around like the fucking tavern cat. You know something.’
‘I don’t, I don’t-’
‘Yes, you do.’ His shake rattled the teeth in her head. ‘And if you don’t tell me, you won’t leave here alive. None of you will.’
‘All right, I’ll tell,’ she said, desperate. As she looked up, Palien seemed to calm, satisfied he’d done his job.
‘I thought you might,’ he replied, with that wolf’s smile.
‘But I’ll only tell Bastian,’ she said.
Palien shook his head. ‘No, girl, you’ll tell me.’
Rag managed to tear her shirt free of Palien’s grip. She stumbled back and steadied herself against a chair.
‘No, I won’t.’ She stared Palien back in his hawk’s eyes, trying to act more the hunter than the prey. She wasn’t too sure it worked. ‘I’ll tell Bastian or I’ll tell no one.’
‘You’ll tell me or-’
‘Or what? What’s Bastian gonna do when he finds out I’ve got news of Friedrik and you wouldn’t let me tell him? What then?’
‘How’s he going to find out?’
Rag glanced around at the gathered crowd of thugs. ‘You trust everyone here to keep their mouths shut, do you?’
Palien glanced around. At first he fixed every man with a determined stare, but it soon withered and died, only to be replaced with an arrogant raised eyebrow.
‘Let’s go see Bastian, then. I’m sure he’ll want to watch while I cut little pieces off you.’
Palien signalled to his men, who bundled Essen and Yarrick towards the door. Shirl limped after. Two of Palien’s thugs looked at Harkas but neither of them dared lay a finger on him. Rag could see them both breathe out a sigh as the big man followed along obediently.
There was nothing else that Rag could do but go along with them. Once again she was stuck in a spot she couldn’t get out of. Out on the street she kept looking for a way out, seeing darkened alleys she could have scuttled into, yet half of her was determined to see this through to the end.
Palien led the way through Northgate, keener than anyone to see this over with. Rag followed, realising she had no idea where Bastian’s hideout was, and the further they went the more uneasy she became. As they got to the middle of the district she saw something up ahead that made her stomach turn.
Brass railings surrounded a wide-open space that rose up to a dark hill. On top of the hill stood a creepy old tomb. Rag knew instantly what it was — everybody in Steelhaven knew about the Chapel of Ghouls. Word of its horrors had been used to frighten little children for years. Rumour had it that recently there’d been stirrings inside. Whether that was true or not it was still a bloody scary place.
They moved to an alley. Two men stood at the end, guarding some steps that descended to what must have been a sewer judging by the stink. With growing dismay, Rag realised that was where they were going.
The passageway descended deep under the street and a couple of Palien’s boys had to lead the way with torches. Rag could tell they were headed right beneath the Chapel of Ghouls. The deeper they went, the worse the smell. How anyone could stay down here, let alone a rich man like Bastian, she had no idea.
Eventually they came to a big round chamber, damp walls, roots growing down through the roof. There was no fire and the air was chill, blowing in cold from somewhere.
Palien stopped in the middle of the room. He didn’t announce himself, just stood there like he’d rung a bell or something, and was waiting for a servant to come scurrying.
It weren’t no servant that turned up, though.
Bastian’s men were all lean, not the big burly types Palien and Friedrik favoured. Their faces were gaunt, hungry, and they all dressed in the same dark gear and carried blades and axes and shivs of all sorts.
They came out of the shadows like they belonged there, the dark clinging to them like it didn’t want to let go. Rag felt her hands start to shake and she clenched her fists in case she made herself look a twat.
When they were completely surrounded, Bastian walked out of the dark. In the scant light he looked more like a corpse than usual, like he’d just clawed his way out of the dirt. Rag was just glad that his eyes were on Palien, as those two dark sunken pools looked like they could kill all on their own.
‘Well?’ he said.
Rag could see all Palien’s confidence was gone now; his eyes more rabbit than hawk. He drew a finger and thumb over his moustache before he spoke.
‘Friedrik’s gone missing. I was supposed to have a meet with him earlier but he never turned up. No one’s seen him, and this little bitch won’t tell me anything.’ He gestured at Rag. ‘She knows something, but she’ll only tell you.’
Bastian glanced down briefly, casting his cold eyes over Rag like she was shit on his shoe.
‘Yes, she will,’ he said.
Silence then. Bastian weren’t looking at her no more, but Rag knew it was her turn to speak. It was now or never. Time to roll those dice. Time to gamble with her life one more time. Maybe one last time.
‘Friedrik’s been caught,’ she said. ‘He’s been taken by the palace guard.’
Palien looked round at her then. ‘What? Where is he?’
Time to turn it on, Rag. Now or fucking never.
She took a step back, putting that face on and squeezing out those tears like her life depended on it. Which it most likely did.
‘Please, Mister Bastian,’ she said, just like she’d heard a dozen blokes say to Friedrik, just before they lost a finger or an eye. She pointed an accusatory finger at Palien. ‘It was him what did it. It was him what betrayed Mister Friedrik to the guard.’
‘You lying little bitch,’ Palien barked. He took a step forward, and Rag stumbled back, squealing like she was a little girl, like she was terrified — it wasn’t too much of a stretch.
Before Palien could reach her, there was a knife at his throat. One of Bastian’s lean bastards was behind him. Palien stopped cold, like he’d been frozen in time.
‘Go on,’ said Bastian, looking on like none of this mattered a shit.
Rag knew it did matter. She knew either her or Palien was going to die down here in this stinky pit.
‘I followed him. I saw him and Friedrik. I saw him lure Friedrik into the trap and I saw him take payment from them.’ She pointed at Palien’s purse, her eyes wide in fear like it was some bloated spider rather than a fat bag of leather clinging to his hip.
Without a word Bastian glanced at one of his other men, who moved forward and unbuckled the coinpurse from Palien’s belt.
‘She’s fucking lying,’ Palien said. ‘Can’t you see? She’s a fucking liar.’
As he spoke, Bastian’s man poured out the contents of the purse into his hand. He let some of the coins fall through his fingers until he finally found what he was looking for.
‘What’s that?’ said Palien, voice rising in panic as the man handed it to Bastian. ‘What is it?’
Bastian held something up. It glinted in the torchlight, shining like a beacon on a cliff.
‘It’s a little medallion,’ said Bastian. ‘Made of steel, crown and crossed swords on it. Only ever given out by the Skyhelm Sentinels. Very rare and worth a pretty penny on the black market. But then you already knew that, didn’t you, Palien.’
‘No,’ Palien said. ‘It’s not mine.’
‘Is this all they paid you to betray the Guild, or did you get gold too?’