Threading the Needle (10 page)

“We have to get them out,” Artras said.

“We can't. The cart and the people must be in at least three different shards.”

Artras turned on Kara, angry. “If the distortion closes—”

“I know what will happen! But we can't save them. Not yet. We barely know how to free a single shard. This—” She waved to the cart and shook her head. “We can't free one shard alone, it would kill anyone already caught in both it and one of the other shards.”

“Not to mention you'd free the Wolves at some point,” Adder added. “I don't know if we could handle three at once.”

“We'll have to free all of the shards at once, and have everyone ready to handle the Wolves when we do. We aren't ready for that yet. We'll have to come back for them.”

Artras subsided, disgruntled.

“I found a few shards we can practice on. They seem harmless.”

“There's one that appears to have filled up completely with water.”

“We'll work around it. Dylan and I will show you how it works and then we'll have the rest of you try one on your own.”

She led them back to the first shard she'd looked into, the one with the café. As soon as Dylan was ready, she reached out and pierced the nearest face, Dylan supporting the edges. A breath of heated summer air washed over them as the face fell away.

Two hours later, they'd cleared all of the shards surrounding the cart
and the Wolves, completely isolating the group from the rest of the distortion, with only one terrifying moment when Artras lost hold of an edge and three faces collapsed at once in the space of a breath. For that blinding moment, Kara saw the entire distortion closing in her mind's eye, taking the central part of Erenthrall with it.

But after the three faces fell, the surrounding shards had stabilized, only a minor tremor vibrating through the nearby structures.

After that, she ended the practice and had Cutter and the Dogs lead them back to the safe house.

Allan didn't head straight for the distortion after breaking away from Kara and the others. He trotted east for a few blocks, until he neared where the Tiana cut through the middle of the district, and then headed north.

He wanted to check on the River Rats.

He'd been surprised when he'd seen them scrambling toward the clash near the Temerites the night before. The River Rats had always run from conflict, acting more like scavengers, looting the dead afterward and stealing whatever they could. But last night they'd been sprinting
toward
the conflict. And they'd been prepared to fight.

Something in the group had changed. They could have simply been running toward the fight in hopes of taking advantage after it ended, but he didn't think so. Not the way they'd carried themselves.

He followed the river, paralleling it through side streets as it cut through markets, down plazas and squares, and through the center of an entire block of tenements once he left Tinker behind. When he neared River Rat territory, he slowed, then chose one of the taller buildings and ascended to the roof.

This section of Erenthrall had been built in a different style to the squat warehouses of Tinker. Instead of flat stone or brick facades, the buildings here were adorned with bay windows and wrought-iron balconies. Windows were capped with stone designs, or had wide ledges for plants, and the brick walls were inlaid with intricate patterns. The roofs were gabled, and a few had mock crenellations at the edges and miniature rounded towers at the corners.

Allan emerged onto a sloped roof through a trapdoor at the top of the stairs, keeping low as he slid down the tiles to the crenellated edge.
In the shadows thrown by the light from the distortion, he slunk to the nearest stunted tower and climbed up onto its flat, rounded top.

From there, he could see down into the River Rats' island.

They'd taken over an entire block of apartments built on a small rise where the Tiana split at one end, surging around the compound before merging again on the far side. The water flowed briskly. The buildings at the edge were partially submerged, the water rising halfway up the first level, swirling in and out of doors and windows, but the tenements in the interior weren't flooded.

Firelight glowed in some of the windows in the higher levels of the buildings, with watch fires along the roofs. Makeshift bridges connected each of the buildings, with ladders between those at separate levels. Allan counted a dozen of the young Rats on watch, their silhouettes passing before the flames of the fires as they patrolled. They carried bows, and one or two had spears. Others were roasting what looked like birds on spits around a firepit at the center building, with a few large pots set in the coals to one side.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Before he turned, though, a drum sounded a warning.

Those on patrol reacted instantly, the closest rushing toward the drummer. Shouts rang out, the words unintelligible at this distance. Allan couldn't see what had caught the Rats' attention at first, but then a group appeared on the closest roofline—more Rats, fifteen at least, herding along a group of five others, trussed up. The prisoners stumbled to a halt at the roof's edge, surrounded, and hand signals were passed from Rat to Rat between the buildings. The street below was flooded by the Tiana, the gap too wide to jump.

A moment later, orders were shouted and Rats came running—half of those on patrol, along with a few from the buildings below. They raced to something lying flat, grabbed handles on either side, and dragged it to the edge of the roof. Angling it upward, they shoved it out over the edge, the Rats at one end dropping back as they reached the roofline to help those behind. They kept it balanced until only ten feet of it remained on the roof, the rest jutting out over the flooded street.

Then they lowered it, its end touching the roof on the far side. The bridge slanted downward slightly, but those waiting didn't hesitate, scrambling up over it to the safety of the island. Others prodded the
prisoners onto it with their spears. The prisoners weren't as confident, edging along its length cautiously as the Rats harried them.

As soon as everyone crossed, the Rats piled on the end of the bridge, lifted it up, and dragged it back onto the roof. The prisoners were led toward the central fire, the Rats harassing them the entire way with hoots and mocking shouts, a few smacking them with their spears, dancing around them. Only the leader of the group and the two walking with him remained calm. They grabbed one of the spits and bit off a piece of charred meat, settling in, while the rest yanked the prisoners to a halt and shoved them down to their knees.

The prisoners were close enough to the fire to recognize now. Temerites—the trimmed beards of the men stood out against their lighter-skinned faces. And not simply members of the group that had laid claim to the largest section of the destroyed Erenthrall; the Rats had captured guards.

Allan swore.

The Rat's leader ate as more and more of his fellow Rats gathered, pouring out of the buildings on all sides. They surrounded the group, the noise rising. Allan shifted, anxious to leave, but unable to step away. He needed to see how much more dangerous the Rats had become since he'd last been here, how much control this new leader had over them.

As soon as the leader finished eating, he tossed the bone aside and turned toward the prisoners. The roar from those gathered escalated, and someone handed the leader a spear. He advanced on the nearest of the Temerite guards, halting a pace away.

He planted the butt of the spear onto the roof and the entire group fell silent.

Allan couldn't hear the words when he spoke, but he knew their intent. He'd seen this happen before, when he was part of the Dogs. He'd participated himself. The interrogations done by Hagger in particular had been brutal. He still remembered how Hagger had forced him to beat their captured Kormanley terrorists in an attempt to discover where the group intended to strike next. It had been one of the main reasons he'd left the Dogs behind and fled.

Below, the leader motioned to one of his betas, who stepped behind the man they were interrogating and wrapped his arm around the man's neck. One of the other prisoners protested, half rising, but without
even an order from the leader one of the Rats slammed the butt of their spear into the protestor's shoulder. Allan heard the scream as the guard crumpled to the roof. The first man struggled against the arm choking him, although Allan could tell they weren't trying to strangle him. Not yet. The Rat's arm wasn't tight enough. The Temerite guard realized it as well and settled, although his face was now flushed.

A Rat stepped forward and pinned down the guard writhing on the roof. The screams died down. The leader began asking questions again, pacing back and forth. The man in the chokehold answered, but it must not have been what the leader was looking for. He spun, casually, and sank the end of his spear into a third guard's gut.

No scream this time. The man hunched forward, hands flying to the handle jutting from his stomach. He looked up toward the leader, opened his mouth as if to speak, but only blood poured out.

The leader jerked his spear free and the man fell forward and rolled onto his side. Blood pooled beneath him. The guard in the chokehold began to struggle again, bellowing something in defiance.

The leader didn't like whatever it was. With a gesture, the Rats on all sides fell on the remaining four men with a sudden roar. Allan saw the one holding the chokehold wrench the man's head around, snapping his neck. The other three screamed, one cut off in a wet gurgle. The leader and his two betas turned and walked away as the rest of the Rats picked the bodies up and hauled them to the roof's edge. One of the Temerites was still alive, although he'd been gutted. They tossed all five of them over the side, the bodies hitting the Tiana with a silent splash, the current taking them instantly.

On the rooftop, the Rats broke into a chant, the sound almost tribal. As they began to celebrate, Allan drew back from the edge of the tower and climbed down to the slanted roof. Being careful not to draw attention to himself, he eased the trapdoor open and descended back down to the street.

He ran from the River Rats' island silently, his neck prickling as if he were being pursued, although he never caught sight of anyone following him. Nausea finally forced him to stop. He took refuge in a small apartment, crouching down with his head between his knees, breathing in deep. When the urge to vomit passed, he raised his head and leaned back against a wall, sliding down to his butt. He let his hands dangle over his knees.

“They're only kids. The leader couldn't have been more than fifteen.”

He hadn't been much older when he'd joined the Dogs, he realized.

He pushed away from the wall and stood, searching the street outside before leaving. He almost headed back to the safe house, to report what he'd seen and to warn everyone they'd have to be more careful and avoid the River Rats completely. But only Gaven, Aaron, and a few Dogs would be there; the rest wouldn't have returned yet.

Mentally cursing, he hesitated at an intersection, then cut left, moving toward the distortion. He may as well check out some shards, work his way toward where the others were going to practice. Maybe he'd run into them before they were done.

He crossed the Tiana at a section where it had diverted itself into one of the unused ley channels, the bridges for the main streets that had once arched over the ley still intact. He kept himself in shadow as much as possible, and kept his ears open for the slightest sound, but all he heard was the roil of the river and the general background noise of the ruined city at night.

At the edge of the distortion, he hesitated again, glancing behind one more time. Nothing moved, so he stepped up to the distortion's face, and then stepped through.

It resisted at first, as it had before, something compressing his chest, as if he were underwater, but then he slid out of the face and into the shard. He sucked in a breath and immediately began coughing, one arm rising automatically to cover his mouth. The air was thick with the stench of putrescence and something else, something toxic that burned his throat. Taking in air through his mouth in shallow gulps, he ran for the nearest adjacent shard. The street was filled with stone debris and dropped trunks, clothes and other possessions spilled out onto the road. He tripped over a pile, but caught himself—

Except it wasn't a heap of clothing, as he'd first assumed. It was a body. A woman, fallen face-first to the ground, her cheeks sunken and hollow with decomposition.

Allan backed away, then scanned the street again. There were bodies strewn everywhere, sprawled as if they'd been fleeing the city and had dropped dead in their tracks. Based on the decay, they'd died only a week before.

Time must be moving slower in this shard. They had to have been caught when the distortion quickened.

Mouth still covered with his arm, he stumbled back, then turned and pushed into the next shard, gasping as he passed through the wall. The air here was fresh, and he leaned over and sucked it in, trying to rid himself of the stench.