9. Hull - Walking the Walk (Patreon)

Chapter 9

Walking the Walk

I was sweaty, footsore, and cranky by the time I got to the Lows. It had to be near on to midnight. I didn’t know where I’d find Harker or what I needed to do; I just knew I had to show my face if I was going to have any chance of stepping up to be the Little Big Man in truth. As my body started to rebel against me pushing it hard and cry out for sleep, I found myself being more and more sure I was going to screw it all up. I was a street kid that had lucked into some good cards; that didn’t mean I had any idea how to make the Lows any better. It’d be smarter to just disappear and let Harker and the others slug it out for control while I did the smart thing, the logical thing, and stayed in War Camp learning how to fight, getting in good with the gods-damned noble shits who ran everything, and then come back once I knew a little more about war, cards, and life in general.

I’d almost convinced myself when I saw a four-year-old kid huddled inside an empty, overturned box at the mouth of the alley off Turpin Street. I couldn’t even tell if it was a boy or a girl, but the kid was nothing but bones and shivers wrapped in a potato sack with rips in the corners for their arms. Their hair was hacked off close to the skull, and every inch of them was covered in dirt. My heart clenched, and I crept over to the sleeping child, suddenly knowing that I’d rather fail out of War Camp than leave this kid to the fate I’d been through.

I knelt beside them, recognizing the slight change in breathing and tensing of the face that meant they’d heard me and woken up. They were pretending sleep and hoping I’d go away. One hand was out of sight underneath them, and I’d have to be a fool not to guess that they were hiding a sharpened stone or piece of broken glass in case I tried to beat them or grope them.

“I’m gonna put something down next to you and then I’ll leave,” I whispered. “No fooling.”

I drew a silver clip from my pocket and gently placed it on the cobbles two feet from the child’s face. They were suspiciously still but did not open their eyes.

“Put it in your hiding place as soon as you can and then take it to old Lucera that runs the fruit stand on Hook Street. It’s far, but if you’re careful and go early, you can make it. Tell her Hull sent you and she might give you something extra. Or not, I can’t be sure. But don’t let any of the older kids see that you’ve got money. Hide it in your mouth if you don’t have a better spot. Just don’t swallow it.”

I’d have given the kid ten times as much if I hadn’t thought it would just get them robbed and beaten, if not killed. Just the sight of that skinny little body shaking in the midnight chill ripped my heart open. There were so many like this. It had to stop.

“Good night,” I whispered. “If you ever see me in the street and it’s safe, come say something. I’m Hull. I’ll get you some bread, or maybe some shoes. I won’t touch you. Promise.”

One eye peeked open to scan my face and then closed again. I’d hoped they’d tell me their name, but they were smarter not to. There were plenty of rapers and other dangerous types that lured little ones with sweets and promises. If I ever saw this kid again, it’d be after they followed me around for days making sure I wasn’t targeting street rats.

I wanted to say something else, but there was nothing useful left. I stood and backed away, resuming my course toward Maidenhead Square. When I looked back, the kid was gone and so was the coin.

“Think you’re some kind of hot shit, don’t you?” a quiet, high-pitched voice said from the shadowed awning in front of Gommud’s scrap shop half a block farther up Turpin. “Throwing money around, pushing on the enforcer crew. Think you’re a big deal.”

I stopped and peered into the shadows. I’d reached for a Nether source the second I heard words, but I kept the card in hand rather than putting it overhead immediately. If the person had meant to attack, they wouldn’t have said anything first, and it sounded like a young voice.

“Big enough to make a mess if I need to,” I said. “What’s it to you?”

“Go make a mess somewhere else,” the kid said. “We don’t need any of that here.”

“Don’t tell me what we need,” I said, nettled. “I live here.”

That got a disbelieving laugh, and after a second I realized I deserved it. I looked like someone from Hillside now, if not the Merchant District. Good clothes and a bath went a long way in how folks saw a fellow.

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” I insisted. “I did good in the card Tournament last month and it changed a lot of things, but the Lows are my streets. I slept on Hook by the baker’s oven for years.”

That earned me a long silence from the shadowed porch. “Lows kids don’t go to the tournaments.”

“No,” I admitted. “But that’s what happened. A little stealing and a lot of luck, and here I am.” This kid had me curious. They sounded smart. “You’ve got some stones to stop a big shot in the middle of the night. Not scared I’ll shake you down?”

“Nah,” the voice said confidently. “I heard you talking to Roshum in his card shop yesterday. If you’re really cutting the protection money he has to pay, you’re not so bad.”

I snapped my fingers. “You’re the kid. The blonde girl that was sweeping.” I let go of my source card and let it vanish back into my soul. I wouldn’t need it, and I didn’t want to look threatening.

She edged into the moonlight, somehow managing to look both ready to fight and ready to run at the same time. Her hair shone almost white under the dim light. “Bryll.”

“That’s right. You half robbed me just to pass a few words to the old man.”

She sniffed. “You can afford it.”

“Guess I can,” I said, “as weird as that feels to say. Have you eaten today?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said. 

“Not asking you to.”

She pointed back up the street. “Pekka doesn’t need money. He needs medicine. He’s had the bloody shits for two days now.”

I grimaced, looking back toward where the skinny child had been sleeping. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s going around,” she said bitterly. “Some do-gooder came in from Dockside handing out blankets, and there was some sickness on them.”

I chewed my lip. “Is there a good physicker near the Relicsmith’s shop?” I wished I had any healing cards, or that anyone around here did. That Lesser Healing Potion I’d traded away would work miracles in the Lows. I could have cycled through and resummoned it every twenty or thirty minutes, and each gulp would save a child.

“Jep and Hurmum are a street over from there. They have good medicine, but it’s expensive.”

I thought it through. The shop wouldn’t open until after sunrise, and I needed to be back in the encampment by then. “If I give you money for him, will you keep it safe?”

“Don’t be a sucker,” she snapped, balling her tiny fists. “You don’t even know if Pekka’s even sick. Kids’ll be hounding you for coin every step if you act like this where they can see.”

“Is he sick?”

“Yes,” she whispered, grimacing.

“And can you keep five clips safe if I give them to you?”

She nodded mutely, looking angry.

I pulled the last coins out of my pocket and held them out to her on my open palm. “Then I’m asking you to do it.”

She edged forward, snatched the money, and scooted back. “I could spend this all myself. You shouldn’t trust people.”

“That’s true a lot of the time,” I said. “But lately I’ve started to find out that sometimes it’s not.” I smiled at her. “Besides, a kid your size buying five clips’ worth of food, or clothes? You’d get beaten to a pulp by noon.”

She muttered something that sounded rude as she turned away, and I could almost hear my own self from a month ago in her tone. A few steps away she paused and turned back. “If you’re headed Hillside, keep your back to the wall.”

I cocked my head. “What’s happening?”

She shook her head. “Nobody tells me shit, but I know trouble when I see it. Too many big guys up late outside of both Jaker’s tavern and The Hellhole. Drinking lots, talking big.”

I nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

She shrugged. “If you’re handing out money, it’s worth my time to pass a word.” She stuffed the coins into a purse hanging around her neck and darted off into the night. I watched her go, realizing after the fact that I was smiling. She was a funny kid.

  *

I’d thought to go to Maidenhead Square to see if I could find Harker, but if there was trouble brewing I figured I should check it out. I was the Big Man, right? If I really meant it, I’d better step to and do what the Big Man said he did. Ticosi had always talked a lot about protecting the neighborhood even as he’d ruthlessly taken every card and shard in sight. For all that, though, his toughs did break up bar fights and put the beatdown on men who stole too much or hit their wives where people could see. I didn’t want to continue grinding the people under my boot like he had, but keeping up the actual protections he had offered was a good idea.

I summoned all seven of my Nether as I trotted quiet and careful-like towards Hillside. I thought about showing up with my Iron Maiden Plate on, riding the shoulder of the Night Terror like I had when I’d first broken into the secret meeting of all Ticosi’s lieutenants, but I wasn’t sure what was really going down this time, if in fact anything was. With my source in place and a full spread of cards in hand I’d be ready for anything. That was good enough for now. 

By the time I reached Pillory Road I could hear the ruckus even though it was still several streets away. Men were shouting and cursing, and the sounds of grunts, thuds, and clangs echoed through the empty streets. I picked up the pace, worrying less about stealth. I ran past the sagging porch of The Hellhole, one of the rowdier drinking spots in the neighborhood, just as the barkeep was slamming the door shut. I heard a crossbar thunk home half a second later. Whatever part he’d played in starting this fight, he wanted no part of it now it was happening. Three men were staggering half-drunk toward the fight farther up the street, the last stragglers into the fray. One held a club and someone else was waving his dagger. They disappeared around the corner onto Bagger Lane, and I followed.

I stopped at the corner and peered around to get my bearings before I jumped into an unknown situation. The fight was a righteous mess. There had to be three dozen men scrapping in swirling clumps that broke apart and came back together in frantic chaos. Three men were kicking a fellow that was down on the cobbles with his arms around his head, but then a huge bull of a man barreled into them and they all went down in a heap. In another spot right by the empty, broken-down washing pool where Bagger Lane crossed Hansom Court, a familiar face had jumped up onto the brick coping to yell encouragement. “Kill the bastards!” Dachs howled. He was one of Ticosi’s enforcers. No, he was one of my enforcers. “This is my turf now!”

I swore under my breath. I’d seen this sort of thing happen once or twice before, but not for a long time. Each enforcer had their own turf, and if they thought they could get away with it, they’d take more of the surrounding area from one of the others. Ticosi hadn’t liked it when they did that, so it didn’t happen often, but a fellow didn’t end up as an enforcer because he was the peaceful sort. I should have expected something like this. The Lows was under new leadership, and the middle managers were testing the boundaries.

Dachs had a few Order source overhead, and he summoned a Soul.

With a word, he sent the Archer’s arrow into the throat of a far man grappling with a much shorter one. He went down gurgling, blood leaking from his mouth and around the arrow that had just killed him.

Shit. Dachs and whoever he was fighting – it had to be Kernona; she ran the streets around Bagger’s Lane, if I remembered right – had whipped up the locals to fight for them, and they were letting them die for them. Seeing rich, carded thugs manipulating these hardscrabble Lows folk into bleeding and dying just so they could have an extra street’s worth of homes and shops to extort made my vision go red. This was everything that was wrong with this neighborhood, and it was happening right in front of me. Not this time. Not if I have anything to say about it. I devoted 2 source and focused the rest as I dashed forward, summoning as I went.

I barreled through the crowd, shoving as necessary without swinging my Hammer. I wasn’t about to take out my anger on these poor fools who’d been plied with drink and hard words to throw away their lives. I wanted Dachs and Kernona. Fortunately, I made an imposing enough figure in my Plate that even the ones locked in combat were happy enough to get out of the way.

Dachs saw me coming and sent another arrow from his Archer snapping toward me. I took it on the faceplate without a moment’s hesitation, the Armor nullifying its damage. The fool was so used to pushing folks around with no cards that he didn’t even know how to use what he had properly. Eyes wide, he summoned another Soul.

The glassy-eyed Summons raised its sword and stepped in front of Dachs just as I reached him, and I swung my Hammer. Its weapon glanced off my Plate, and the Hammer caved in its head, turning it to scattering shards of light. 

My blood was up both from using Nether and from being back in the fight. I’d wanted to ring Dach’s bells with my Hammer, but now it hung useless by my side until it refreshed. I didn’t want to kill him – no, scratch that, I wanted to kill him, but I wasn’t going to – so instead, I took him by the throat in my gauntleted hand, dragged him down off the washing pool’s edge, and squeezed for all I was worth. 

His eyes went wide with panic, and the scraps of a single card fluttered down from him. I must have been pressing right on his breathing tube to do enough damage to shed a card. It must have been the only one he had remaining, because he immediately started turning purple and flailing at my head with increasing desperation. If I kept choking him long enough, he’d die.

Instead, I let go of his throat and punched him in the nose with a gauntleted fist, leaving his nose a red ruin. He howled and clutched at it.

“Call them off!” I yelled. He just clutched his face and cried. All around us, people were screaming and fighting. Somewhere in the scrum Kernona was probably killing people with her own cards. It was time to bring this to a halt. 

It took a few seconds of drawing and discarding to get the card I wanted. I could have summoned the Night Terror; I had it in hand, and that would make folks scatter right quick. Problem was, it was a bloodthirsty bastard, and I wasn’t sure it would discriminate between those who were causing the problem and those who were just stupid and unlucky enough to be caught in the fight. The idea was to not kill folks.

So instead I drew and discarded once my hand size got too big until I got to the card I wanted. Then I looked to the only empty space around, the washing pool, and focused my source.

With a roar that echoed into the midnight air, the brick and cement structure exploded, jetting purple fire as high as the second story windows. Men fell all around, screaming in fear, some of them clutching at bleeding heads or gashed arms where bits of brick had hit them. A shocked semi-silence descended on the fight, punctuated by moans and whispered curses.

“This is done!” I bellowed. I pointed at where Dachs was cowering at my feet. “Kernona, if you’re not standing in front of me in ten seconds, you’re dead.”

A tall, slender woman stood from where she crouched fifty feet away, devoted Order source still swirling over her head. With surprising dignity she approached, folding her arms as she stood before me.

“This is how it works, Hull,” she said. “Don’t interfere.”

I gripped my Hammer tight. These assholes were so sure of themselves that even with death staring them in the face they kept up their swagger. “I told you I was changing how it works,” I said loudly. I wanted everyone to hear. I was going to be their protector, and I wanted them to know it. “If the boundaries needed changing, you should have asked.”

She shook her head with a mocking smile. “I don’t ask. I take.”

I stepped forward, getting right in her face. “If I were Ticosi, you’d have asked, if you even dared.”

She sneered. “No matter what cards you have, you’re not him.”

“You’re damn lucky I’m not,” I growled. “You’d be breathing through your neck.”

She actually spat at my feet. “Go someplace else, Hull. You don’t have the balls for this.”

Everyone was watching. If I let her walk away from this kind of disrespect, I was done for in the Lows. Do I kill her? Both of them? They deserved it. They were the reason that the little sick boy in the potato sack was shivering under a box in the street. Their deaths made sense, and the story would spread, reinforcing my power. A couple of hits with my Hammer would get the job done, or I could summon a demon and really make it memorable.

I wished I could quiet the little voice at the back of my mind protesting that killing them was what Ticosi would have done, but it was persistent. I didn’t want to be Ticosi. And I worried that once I started killing people to secure my position, I’d never be able to stop. How many years would it take before I was cutting off some poor whore’s foot in the public square to prove a point?

“Give me your cards,” I told her, hefting the Hammer.

“What?” she scoffed.

“The Big Man gave you cards to help keep the peace in the Lows,” I said, making sure everyone heard. “Instead, you used them to get Lows folk killed, so the Big Man is taking them back.”

She looked around to the rapt, watching crowd, and her jaw jutted out rebelliously. “Not a chance.”

I spun the Hammer in my fist. “I can just as easily take them off your dead body. You’re done here, Kernona. You are no longer an enforcer for the Big Man. You can either give me the cards and leave, never coming back to the Lows, or you can die in front of everybody right now. If you have a soul card, I’ll break it. You know I’ll do it.”

She snarled and balled her fists, but she wasn’t so stupid that she was willing to get her face caved in. Swearing quietly, she pulled four cards from her Mind Home and handed them to me one by one.

“You too, Dachs,” I told the man still wiping at his bloody nose on his shirt. “You’re out or you’re dead.”

“You’ll pay for this, you little shit,” he grated.

“Everybody pays for everything sooner or later,” I said, feeling tired. As he started pulling cards, I turned to everyone else. “I’m taking responsibility for these areas for now. As far as I’m concerned, anyone that’s not here in five minutes was never here to begin with. Everybody go home. If Priyam or any of the others start offering drinks or money to fight for them, remember what happened here and be smart. No more turf battles, no more beating people up for nothing. If it happens, I want to hear about it. Understand? Things are going to be different around here. Now get lost. Go sleep it off.”

There was a general scramble to obey the man in spiky armor holding a huge weapon, just as I’d hoped. The whole ones helped the injured, and a few unlucky ones had to crawl off by themselves. Dachs slapped his three cards into my hand, looking murderous.

“You ought to both be dead,” I reminded him and Kernona. “When you think about getting revenge, remember that. I won’t be so kind if I ever see you again.”

“Go fuck yourself, kid,” Dachs growled. “I’ll piss in your skull soon enough.”

They left the square with their heads together, and I watched them go with a deep feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Should I have killed them? I still could. My reasoning had been sound, though. If they caused me problems later, I’d deal with them later. I had enough on my plate already.

A familiar hulking presence loomed on my right. I turned and saw Harker approaching, her ugly face set in a scowl.

“Where were you?” I asked her. “Could have used you twenty minutes ago.”

“I was sleeping like any normal person,” she growled. “Where were you? If you’d been on the streets earlier, you could have stopped this before it started and not lost two of your best people.”

“They’re not my people,” I said, shaking my head. “They’re Ticosi’s.”

She grunted. “The others won’t like what you did.”

“I know,” I sighed. “Tell ‘em the same goes for all of them, though. We’re supposed to be keeping these people safe, not using them as shields while we fight each other.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. I couldn’t tell if it was confused, calculating, or just annoyed. Her bovine face was hard to read.

“Here,” I said, slapping the short stack of confiscated cards into her hand. “Hold onto these for me.”

Now the bafflement was clear. “You’re not keeping them?”

“Well, I’m not giving them to you,” I replied. “But I haven’t cultivated Order yet, and there’s no point in leaving them bouncing in my pocket. Use them or keep them safe until I decide what to do with them.”

She shoved the cards into a pocket. “You don’t make sense.”

I was suddenly sick of Harker, sick of all of it. Here I was depending on her, and she was no different than the others. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say, didn’t want her advice or direction. I’d wander the Lows on my own tonight.

“I don’t have to make sense,” I said, walking away. “I’m the Big Man.”

  *

It was a short walk to Roshum’s shop. I was glad to see the old man puttering around with an open door despite the late hour. When he saw me, he beckoned me in.

“You’re up late,” I said, taking a chair in front of his work desk.

“When you’re my age, you don’t need sleep like you used to.”

“That sounds nice,” I groaned, stifling a yawn with my fist.

He chuckled. “It’d be nicer if half of my sleeplessness weren’t because there’s a riot halfway down the street. I peeked out for a bit once it quieted down and saw you taking charge. I don’t know if it’s a smart move, but thank you nonetheless.”

“It’s what the Big Man ought to be doing,” I said. My heart warmed just a little at his words. Harker could give me confused looks all she wanted so long as the regular folks appreciated my efforts.

“And I thought, if I’m up I might as well work on one of my projects.” Roshum pulled out a wooden box and opened it. Inside I saw jeweler’s magnifying glasses, a scattering of Basic shards, and a stack of clear glass casings exactly the size and shape of cards. He pulled out a card from a velvet sleeve off to one side that looked incomplete. Its border was clear glass and it lacked an image in the center, but it had the stamped-metal look of a Neutral Relic around the borders. Its text box was blank.

“You’ve got so many transport boxes to make that you have to burn oil at midnight to fill your orders?” I asked, smiling. “I thought business was middling.”

Old Roshum snorted. “I could shit out a transport card in an hour. Bryll keeps telling me to make more; there are always folks waiting for them. She’s right; I’d make more money… but they’re so boring. I just can’t make myself work on dreck like that for more than a few hours a week. I’d much rather work on my own ideas.”

“Like what?” I said, intrigued.

He tapped the side of his nose slyly and reached into his vest. “A card connoisseur like yourself might appreciate a little artistry. Take a look.” He pulled out three cards and spread them on the desk between us.

“You made these?” I asked. “They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful and useless,” he said wistfully. “But thank you. If I were working on Merchant’s Row I could sell these in a heartbeat, but folks ‘round here can’t afford Rares. It’s wasted effort and a huge resource sink, but I can’t help myself.”

“I’m sure we could find a shop topside that would sell them for you,” I protested. “This is good work. They might take a percentage, but you’d still earn something.”

“Don’t you dare,” he scolded playfully. “It’s not about the money. I just… like making nice things. I don’t want some rich tit walking around actually using them.”

“Too bad,” I said, fingering the Jade Pillow. “If you were selling, I’d find a way to snatch this one. It’d help with a lot of my problems right now.”

“I don’t want to part with it,” he said, eyeing the card fondly, “but I don’t mind if you use it for a bit. You’re a young man carrying a very heavy load.”

I shook my head and laughed. “You can’t take care of all the street rats, old man.”

“I can try,” he retorted. “You can sweep up for me like Bryll does and I’ll let you use the Pillow every night, if you need.”

A scattering of unrelated thoughts slotted together in my mind like puzzle pieces and I suddenly had a great idea. I tapped the card under my hand, a smile growing on my face. “All right Roshum, the Big Man has a proposition for you. Any chance you want to let me be your part-time apprentice?”