"Four copper crowns for the best tallow candles of the street!"
In the middle of the first beggar street, Kael shouted through his cupped hands. The nearby bakery filled the dusty air with a scent of wood chips that competed with the smell of roasted meat drifting from a stand two dozen steps ahead.
Beggars around both shops glared at him, lips pursed in gossip about his price.
"As expensive as water. Have you lost it, boy?" A middle-aged man approached from the bakery. A clean tunic, a bag bloated with goods slung over his shoulder. Kael smelled money.
"Everyone's hiking their prices. Will they charge us to breathe next?"
Kael turned toward the woman who had just spoken. Too young to be the man's wife. Maybe his daughter?
He snatched two more candles from Els' basket. Cheap tallow stuck between his fingers as he grinned.
"The gang war terrifies everyone. Not me. Four coppers a candle, but only six for three! Get yours before someone else does!"
"Wait, wait!" The woman called out before he could finish turning. "They're cheaper than Boris' if we buy three?"
At Kael's nod, she glanced at her father, who returned it. "We'll take them."
He fished copper crowns from the pouch at his belt. He counted six on his palm, slid two back in, and handed them to Kael.
"Pleasure doing business with you!" Kael let the coins click in Els' basket, then gave the candles to the woman.
She turned the candles one by one, her eyes darting across their surfaces until she noticed the Gs and Rs engraved at the center. She rubbed the letters with her thumb. "Mhh. Letters. Fun. What they mean?"
"Oh, that?" Kael's eyes slipped toward the third beggar street. "My assistant enjoys them. Don't you think they make our candles unique?" He winked. "He can stamp the first letter of your name if you become a regular."
She clutched the candle to her chest, nodding. "I'm Mathilda, but I don't know how to write it."
"Don't worry. We know."
"We'll buy more next week, then." The man waved with one hand, the other nudging his daughter's back.
"Wow. I feel he'd make the candles for me." Their voices carried for a couple of steps before they faded into the crowd.
Kael ruffled his dark hair. How many buyers had asked about the letters in the last week? Enough for him to come up with that explanation. Well, less than ten... Not that he couldn't attract more; he never tried.
Even now, Boris' men glared at him from the man's shop, as if they kept track of how much he sold. And he knew that if he ever threatened Boris' benefits, they'd break his legs on the spot.
With a wry smile, he glanced at the six shining coins inside the basket—no more candles. He covered it with a ragged cloth riddled with holes and burned at the edges.
It was enough for bread and water at Lana's bakery, and to resupply coal and tallow. Els kept the profit safe. Around fifteen copper crowns with these six added.
He puffed out his chest. This was the richest he had ever been. He had the right to be proud about it, right? Swinging the basket with a soft chuckle, he strolled toward the third street.
Five steps. The sixth never landed. Instead, a scream, pitched high from agony, froze his foot mid-motion.
"RUN!"
Those closest to the scene elbowed each other in their rush. Men and women were flung to the ground, stomped until their dark footprints etched tunics, shirts, and dresses, and they gurgled blood on the pavement. Stands tumbled, glowing coal clattering to the ground.
The chaos spread to Kael. Before knowing why, without even caring about it, he bolted for an alley faster than anyone around him. But not further. He slid his fingers in the cracks of the wall, hoisting himself to the old thatch roof. The stench of mold beneath his stomach didn't reach him. He glared at the entrance of the first street.
The man whose scream had warned them lay on his back, guts poking out of his open stomach. His hand inched for the sword beside him, his eyes begging, his fingers twitching. Another blade flashed down.
His head rolled at his comrades' feet.
And the man who beheaded him snarled beneath his hood. "Who's the next fool who'll try my patience?"
His old voice, though not loud, overwhelmed the chaos. The beggars stopped for a heartbeat, their eyes drawn to the hooded man and the two dozen people following him.
Silence. Deep. True.
Kael's eyes widened at the man's two missing fingers. Everyone beneath mirrored his expression. And someone stuttered a name.
"O-Old Fen!"
"The Sump Dogs!"
People scrambled as if they had never paused. Those who supervised the street's entrance abandoned their beheaded friend to blend in with the chaos.
Kael balled his trembling fists until blood dripped on the thatch. With one last glance at Fen's group, he jumped onto the next roof, slid down a rusted pipe, and rushed to his shelter.
Before the chaos could spread to the second and third streets, he reached the small home tucked between broad pipes and flung the cloth in the doorway.
"They're here!" He huffed.
Els gasped, while Tonio's red eyes narrowed.
"They brought the war here?" Els' eyes shot across the room as if the Sump Dogs had invaded it. "Light is temporary, but darkness remembers..."
"Kill Dogs!" Tonio folded his lips over his squarish teeth, a fist raised. "Wait Garrick!"
Kael returned Els' basket. His hand found her shoulder with infinite gentleness. "Let darkness remember how they die." He turned toward Tonio, smirking. "You remember the plan. Good."
Tonio pointed his elongated thumbnail at his own puffed chest. "Remember. Kael strong like puppy now. No die." His pride faded as he hunched his back and spread his dark nails. His furry face contorted, his voice a visceral burn. "Avenge Riccardo and Giovanni."
"We will." Kael scrunched his nose as he moved to the door. Just a puppy? At least it was better than a rat.
"Be careful." Els' lips quivered.
"I'll be. Wait for my news." He didn't need more words. They already knew.
Now, he moved over roofs, crouched, his eyes searching for Old Fen's group. Where they went, what they did, and why, he'd know everything before striking.
He found them on the second street. A man wearing an immaculate suit and eight armed men faced Fen. From his position, Kael couldn't hear them. But movements were enough. The man gestured at the brothel. At Fen's headshake, he waved his hand, and half his men joined the Sump Dogs.
His breath caught in his throat each time the group swelled. From two dozen men, it increased to four by the time he followed them to the third street. A street emptied of beggars, each shivering in shelters they knew wouldn't protect them. Even stray dogs and rats cowered in alleys or between walls. No squeaks or whimpers. Just fear.
Kael's eyes widened from the slanted roof of the old tannery. Fen strolled to the barred door as if he owned the street, fishing something from his cloak.
Don't tell me... The broadest building was all along...
Fen pulled out a brass key and thrust it into the lock. A soft click. It yawned a cloud of dust.
He didn't enter. Instead, he walked to the shelter beside the tannery, the one that had belonged to Jones six days ago. Without a word, a man in his early thirties came out from the cracked wall. Short brown hair, hazel eyes, eyes sharp even before the Sump Dogs. The other man from the wanted poster...
Joss Renn hid right beside him for the last four days... H-he didn't notice. Did his men smuggle him in?
Kael massaged his brow as the two gang leaders smirked at each other. They shook hands, and Joss joined Old Fen, bringing the combined group to around fifty thugs. No, regular thugs didn't matter. Those who anchored truths did. How many? Fen and Joss, likely, perhaps ten more, or even half. Adding the men Garrick would soon send, the beggar street might really blow up.
And he'd be there, with Tonio, like shadows reaping lives on their battlefield.
Unmoving, breath steady, he stayed on the roof, catching bits of what Joss said.
"Took you a while, Old Fen. Time didn't help you with that stench of rot and oil."
"And time didn't help you keep your men alive. I expected more to have my back."
"We're few, but we worked fast. I'll let Garrick learn he'd need more than traitors to bring me down."
Their voices lowered. Kael peeked, just as they entered the tannery.
"His men are already after us. Command your men to move the reinforced windows and arrows we've built. Tonight, we send him a message in these bastards' blood."
Tonight? Kael clenched the edge of the roof until his fingers hurt. Indeed, a message.
He slithered down a pipe. Landing with a muffled thud, he stomped to his shelter, his mind racing.
To the three of you. They'll reinforce the tannery. Good. The longer they last, the more men Garrick will send. And the more we can kill. That is, if Brannick doesn't crush them all from the start. He won't, or Joss' corpse would have been rotting down the burial pit already.
His hand hovered over the cloth in the doorway of his shelter. He scowled at the street one last time.
You'll lose more than the two silver crowns you denied me, Garrick. And you'll never know it was me.
Beside the flickering lamppost, his shadow twisted longer on the ground as he flung the cloth in his passage. For once, he wouldn't flee. For once, he wouldn't be at the receiving end.