Exodus Introduction

Introduction

"In order to grow your audience,
you must betray their expectations."
—Hayao Miyazaki

This is a book for warriors. This is our history as I remember it. We keep these records so that those who come after us will know what happened and how it happened. I wrote this so that those like us will understand why we ran, and will- when the time is right- remember our path to guide themselves when things seem impossible.

If you're reading this, then either you're one of us or you stole this. If you stole this book, then you better keep in mind that we will find you one day.

Good, now moving on.

This isn't my story, but I'll tell it to you anyway. Technically this is the story of how the Red Hand tribe came to be, but really it’s the story of my friend Owl and his crowning moment of awesome.

Yes, Owl. No, I am not going to use our old names. No, not even for the early parts of the story where even we still used them. If you don't like it, you can go chew red mushrooms for all I care. I'm not changing my mind.

So this story starts before everything broke, before any one of us knew what was wrong. But this story is part of an even bigger story, and it starts before I was born and before my great grandparents had landed in North America, and before Pharaohs built pyramids.

I wasn't there, but I have a piece of something that tells how it started way back when, and so I'll start with that. It's a story that our teacher taught to us and said we should remember, because it told the truth even if the facts couldn't be confirmed. And once that's done, I'll tell you all about how Owl forged us into the First Red Hand Tribe, how we burned down school, became hunted criminals and how this saved us all.

 * * *

This is a true story, do not mistake this story for fact. This story is more than real, this story is mythology and it explains a secret that needs explaining.

This story is old. It takes place a long time ago, before time was chained down like a road- when time rolled in circles. Before cities and steel, there was the tribe.

There were many members of the tribe, amongst whom were the Brave Young Man, and the Corn Lady.

The Brave Young Man was a leader to the tribe who forged ahead and saw new things and led the tribe to new places. He was strong and lean and hungry like a great hunting cat. The Corn Lady was a leader to the tribe who grew crops and delivered children and kept the tribe fed and healthy. She was strong, with roots into the land and patience beyond measure.

The Corn Lady told the tribe how much food to plant or hunt that year. The tribe needed to be careful not to grow or hunt too much, because when there was more food than needed, the tribe would grow in size because more babies could be fed with the excess food. If the tribe grew, it would need more space, and there were tribes all around that used the space that the tribe did not. And if the tribe expanded, it would anger those tribes whose territory it expanded into. Controlling the size of the tribe was a peacekeeping method of much importance.

The Brave Young Man was always out exploring and learning new things, and one day he saw a great locust swarm fly across a valley and devour all of the grasses and other food in the valley, sending the other animals running in fear. The Brave Young Man was impressed, because although the other animals fled at the approach of humans such as the Brave Young Man, they never ran too far. The flight of the animals before the locust was a flight of raw terror. The Brave Young Man had never seen animals so scared.

The Brave Young Man collected up all the tall grasses he could carry from where he stood and wrapped them with a rope. Then he went down and made a peace offering of grasses to the locust swarm and asked to talk with them. The Locust Swarm agreed to this and asked what he wished to know.

The Brave Young Man said that he was impressed with the fear that the Locust Swarm instilled in other animals and in the Size of their tribe. The Brave Young Man asked if the Locust Swarm would tell him its secret.

The Locust Swarm replied that its secret was no secret, but something every Tribe knew. The more food a tribe had, the larger it grew. The larger a tribe grew, the more it expanded and was able to expand because a larger tribe can overwhelm a smaller tribe. Even a tribe composed of creatures as small of the humble locust can spread terror and expand at will if they are willing to play the price of such expansion.

The Brave Young Man asked what the price of expansion was. The Locust answered that the price was that they would expand as long as there was more food tomorrow than yesterday, but that if they could not find more food than yesterday their numbers would fall like leaves in autumn.

The Brave Young Man said to himself that the solution was simple, if excess made a tribe larger, and larger tribes can conquer smaller tribes, then there will never be a problem finding more food today than yesterday. He will simply go to a new tribe and conquer them until he had conquered the whole of the world and there was nothing left to oppose his tribe. In this way, his tribe would always be the greatest.

The Brave Young Man thanked the locust swarm and headed home elated. He addressed the Tribe and explained how he would make the tribe greater than all others by using the secret of the Locust.

The Corn Lady stood up as he finished speaking and told him that this was foolish, that what he had not talked about was the fact that the locust swarm would inevitably eat until the grasses were gone and the locusts would starve until almost none of the locusts were left. The tribe was not like the locusts, Corn Lady argued, if the tribe tried to live this way there would be never ending war with the other tribes. The tribe would be the enemy to the whole of the world and they would risk starvation if they ever faltered in their conquest. And their only prize at the end if they actually succeeded in conquering everything was starvation when there was nothing left to conquer.

The Brave Young Man was angry. He said that the Corn Lady was a coward who feared the glory of battle and stayed at home while brave warriors protected her from harm. He laughed at the idea that the tribe could ever reach the edges of their vast seemingly endless world. Who had travelled to the edge of the world? He asked. Who could know how large it was? The Brave Young Man told the tribe that he was proposing to make them the greatest tribe in history, that they would grow until the end of time and become masters of all.

The tribe was very concerned. They could not decide which of these respected leaders was right, for surely they could not both be right. And so the tribe went back to their huts to think.

The next morning, when the tribe awoke, the corn lady was found dead in her garden. The Corn Lady was lying so that it appeared that she had stabbed a knife into her own belly. The Brave Young Man said that she must have done so rather than lose face when the tribe adopted his new idea.

Some said that the Brave Young Man had killed the Corn Lady, others said that she had killed herself in disgust or despair. The tribe discussed and eventually decided that there was no evidence the Brave Young Man was involved and that his plan should be tested to see if it would work.

The tribe began to grow more than they needed. And as predicted, their numbers increased and they were able to overwhelm their neighbouring tribes. As they took over the lands of their neighbours, they commented that the Brave Young Man seemed to be right. The tribe was now large and feared. The BRave Young Man had brought them glory and conquest. If they remembered the Corn Lady's warning about what their victory would bring, nobody in the tribe spoke of it.

And so the tribe continued to expand and conquer. And they became better and better at conquest, until- to their surprise- they had conquered nearly the whole world. And as they looked around the globe and saw that there was nothing left to conquer they became uncomfortable. Their numbers were still growing. They still had to find ways to grow more food, but there was no new places left to take. They were the masters of the world, but they were conquerors with nothing left to conquer. They had long since forgotten the warning of the Corn Lady, and the price mentioned by the Locust Swarm itself- but as they stared at the conquests they felt nervous and could not tell why.

And that is why every child born to the tribe to this day feels that something is terribly wrong, as though all the adults are lying to them about something very important.

And every child is right, but most adults have no idea that they are lying.

The Blood Market Chapter 18

"I assume that you'd like to know how we survived?" Harbinger asked.

"Actually, I'm more interested in specificall how you aren't dead. Flintock technology doesn't render one any less dead when fired into the skull at close range."

"I did cut myself," Harbinger said, pushing his bear up to display a weird squiggly gouge in his throat that was quietly bleeding down his neck, "I'll need to dress it fairly soon I imagine. I was lucky I didn't hit an artery or a vein. That could have been messy."

"But you still shot yourself with a lead ball."

"I did no such thing. I did magic. Or to put it another way, I presented an illusion that made it look as though I had shot myself with a lead ball." harbinger said, "Did you think that you actually missed that shot you took at Mr. Albrecht?"  Harbinger asked me.

"I assumed that the round was compromised or similar," I said, "I assumed that the round has basically exploded as it exited the barrel and Albrecht had been lucky in where the shrapnel went."

"Think about the range at which you fired. You're talking about the lead ball basically turning into a small shotgun round filled with bird shot. How far would bird shot spread at that distance?"

"I should have blown his skull open." I admitted, "So what did you do?"

Harbinger smiled, "Instead of facing death with dignity,I took a series of calculated gambles. Because after all, when do I show dignity? I stole a page from such luminous magicians as Penn and Teller, Ted Annemann, and the legendary Jean-Eugen Robert-Houdin. It was Robert-Houdin who was our salvation this day. I used the shoe polish from your shoe, a pin from my hat band, wax from the candle and blood from my finger to craft hollow wax rounds for our duel, filling with a little of my own blood. Just as Robert-Houdin did so long ago in Ancient Algeria when faced with a similar duel. I then palmed the real lead balls and replaced them with the fake rounds during our inspection, and let the man load the pistols with the fake balls. The rounds were likely ruined by the ram rod, and so al the pistol succeeded in firing were deformed chunks of wax and a dramatic spray of blood. Hence why I held the pistol beneath my chin, so the effect of the spraying blood would be convincing."

"So I fired a little bit of your blood and a wad of wax at our enemy. You might have warned me."

"I was dead at that point if you recall," Harbinger said, grinning widely.

"You could have let me in on the plan." I said, "What if you hadn't been able to switch the shot before the game?"

"Then we'd probably be dead now." Harbinger said, "That's why I didn't tell you. If you thought I might still be alive, you might have hesitated in defending yourself. Even if the switch failed, you might still escape and my letter would still have been found, with the explanation of the protection that it provided us. Or you, of course, because in this explanation I would have been dead."

"Why didn't you just approach him with the evidence and make a deal?"

"Because the evidence was not as strange as it looked." harbinger said, "It wouldn't convict most of the people I named. But it could ruin lives and reputations. And so, standing in front of a group of corrupt nobility and basically telling them that only cooperation on the part of Mr. Blackwater could protect them, Mr. Blackwater was highly motivated to do just that. Had I approached him privately, he would have waved off our evidence correctly as circumstantial, but he couldn't wave off the panic of his richest customers."

We reached the office and climbed the stairs, "We're not really done yet though are we?" I said.

"Anything else can be done tomorrow." Harbinger answered, opening the door. I nodded, exhaustion starting to creep in behind my eyes.

"That sounds good."

We entered the office and collapsed. Dead to the world. The next morning, we awakened by a pounding on the lower office door. Heading down stairs, we found Victoria standing outside our office grinning like a Cheshire cat, hands planted on hips, dress swaying in the summer breeze, "I have tracked down a relative of little June. One whom is not a disgusting moral offesnse to humanity. She has an Aunt. Somebody named, if you can beleive this, April. And Aunt April seems to have no connections with those elements can got her sister murdered. Little June seems to feel safe with this arrangement. I suspect she'll need a while to recover of course. But she'll be in good good care and as safe as we can manage."

"That seems as neat a solution as we are going to get." Harbinger said, "Thank you young lady."

Victoria smiled, "I'm not your young lady, I'm hers." She swung a face towards me as she spoke and I found myself blushing again.

After a rendevous with Mr. Barchester reunited us with June, we began our walk towards the home of her Aunt April. June looked at me very intently, but silently as we walked. Finally she spoke.

"Do you make him sorry?" She asked, "The man who took Mommy away?"

I was silent for a moment as I considered my answer, then I nodded, "We did. Not as sorry as I'd liked to have made him. But it's a start, and I'll keep making him sorry until I've stopped him forever."

June looked down at the ground for about thirty seconds before answering, "That sounds good. I miss my mommy, and people who take mommy's away are bad."

I nodded, "Yes, they are."

We delivered June to her Aunt, who was very relieved to be reunited with her neice. We provided her with what closure we could regarding the case. And then headed back to the office. We entered the Baker's District and I detected the smell of a Jakarta black clove cigarette. I looked for the source and spotted the large mutton chopped Jaromir Hus leaning against the stilt of a Marzipan stall. He caught my gaze and grinned at me. Hus stepped into the street and walked slowly up towards us. I reached for my sabre, but he waved me off as I did.

"Hey hey. I ain't here to try and thrash you again. I know better. Hell, if we weren't on different sides, I'd ask you out." He said with a grin, "Want a Jakarta Black? These are way nicer than the 108s I normally smoke."

"I don't date men. but I'll take the cigarette. From Blackwater I assume? I can't imagine either of us being able to afford these normally," he nodded as I took the cigarette.  As reached a hand out with a lighter to light the cigarette, I asked, "Why are you here then?"

"That a loss for guys everywhere then," He said, "I'm here to give you folks a message from my new boss, now that Gunter ain't breathing and so he can't run the Sons of Perun no more. I told the new boss that I couldn't thrash you, you were better than me. He said that was fine. He said that the words could do my thrashing for me. So here goes. Mr. Blackwater says that he wants to thank you. He's been given a promotion, he says he's a full Colonel now. And he says it's because of him catching the Red Flag fleet and Gunter Albrecht and shutting down that Chinamen smuggling ring and the Russian Roulette scheme. And he said that he controls the Sons of Perun now, and he does- Mr. Albrecht's dead and Mr. Blackwater just walked in and took over. We were his biggest competition, now we're him. He basically controls the whole of the Sticktown underworld, and I think Old Smoke too. And he says that the photos that bought your freedom helped him blackmail a lot of rich folk and noble pricks and such and now he has pull on the House of Council too. So, he says to tell you, that he's almost a general, he controls crime in Sticktown, he's got Queen Bonnie's ear, and he's got enough votes to control the House of Council. And he says he owes at least half of that to you. So he wants to say thank you."

"The man's a gentleman," I said, keeping my voice flat.

"He also says, "Hus continued, "That even with your photos and your letters, he could still wipe you off the board. And now that he's received his rewards for all this, that would be even easier. He says he'd rather not deal with the mess that'd cause him, so he doesn't want to do it unless he needs to. But he told me to tell you, not to mistake a tactical preference for weakness. He's not leaving you alive it cause he's nice or cause he doesn't think he could pull it off. He's leaving you alive because getting rid of you would be messy. And he says that if you make leaving you both alive more messy, well then, he's got no reason not to wipe you off the board. Oh and one more thing, he's going to give you credit for the investigation, so that if you tumble his schemes, you'll have to expose the backroom deal that you made with him. But hey, The Royal Commission will pay your bill this time, right? So basically, stay out of his affairs. And oh yeah, pretty much everything in Sticktown is his affairs now, so good luck."

"Congratulations Mr. Hus," I said," You have succeeded in thrashing us."

"It's not as much fun though is it?" Jaromir Hus said, " I'd rather lose a straight fight than win all sneaky like."

"That's why you do what you do," I said.

"Yeah, I guess so. Try not to get my new boss rethinking letting you breath, cause he could ruin things for you real easy. And I like you guys. Good luck, cause you're going to need it."

Hus left us standing on our our front steps and I shook my head at Harbinger, "All the real villains have escaped. I lied to that little girl. We lost."

"Did we now?" Harbinger answered, "That little girl is still alive. Remember that when you consider this a complete loss. And we're alive."

"Not everyone's alive," I pointed out, "And so what? I've survived a lot of battles in which I think I'd have rather died."

"The Russian Roulette racket has been shut down in it's current form. Blackwater's power has been raised, but at the cost of his credibility to his clientele. We embarrassed him, and that is important in his business. We've removed some of the more odious aspects of the illegal immigration process coming here from accros the Pacific, people need not bet their lives literally to get here now."

"I guess that's something."

"It's also not the end of it. We get paid, which means I can pay Mr. Barchester his much needed rent. He is so very patient about that sort of thing. I'm only a month or too behind at the moment. And, far more importantly, we have an arch enemy now. That's a story worth telling. That's a tale where a hero might feel comfortable dying at the end of it!"

"Stop. I like breathing, and this is the end. He's stopped us. Cold. What can we do now? Given what he's got on us?"

"We can be very careful, very slow, and very sneaky, and wait until we're ready. We have made a strategic retreat, and have gained a huge tactical advantage with what we have learned. We have not lost, merely bought time to prepare for the next confrontation."

The office was not clean. But hey pathway have been cleared, and an item that I recognized have sat in the center of the disaster. Somebody had moved my father's favorite oak writing desk into harbingers office. I stared at it as it that out of place amidst the mess.

“What is that doing there?” I asked.

“Well there wasn't much room, to be honest. I told them to put it wherever they could make room. Because, after all, you did say that you were going to clean up this mess.

“I don't mean method. I mean motivation,” I said, “I can intuit how my father's favorite writing desk arrived in your office. I don't understand why my father's desk arrived in your office.”

"Your father felt you needed your own desk."

"And what do you think?" I asked. "It's your office.”

"The office is ours. And I think both partners should have a desk."
“Am I? A partner I mean?” I asked.

“You've been a partner since day one Dahlia. You were raised somewhere else, but this is where you belong.”

“You're trying to make me cry, and it won't work.” I said.

“I would never do that,” Harbinger smiled and looked out the window.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to see what he was looking at. He was quite for nearly seventy five seconds.

"So I guess that we will need a new sign, " Harbinger said, staring out and up at his mahogany sign through the office window.

I looked up at the sign-  Freeman Harbinger: Investigations and Exorcisms.

"It looks fine to me. What's wrong with it?" I asked.

"It's incomplete. I think it should read- Harbinger and Crowe: Investigations and Exorcisms. This is your place too. I can't leave my partner off the sign. You've proven you belong in the office, it seems only fair too say that you also belong on the sign.

I'm a not girl. Don't cry, but I will admit that I found some dust on the summer breeze caught on my eyes.

I smiled, "A desk, and my name on the sign. Any chance I could push my luck and ask that we purchase a filing cabinet?"

Harbinger looked at me with a truly baffled expression, "Why? What use that would be?"

I shook my head, “Fine, we'll work on that one.”

What are you trying to do?

I don't enjoy the modern day to day life. Do you? Nine to five is where it starts. Television or video games to decompress. mindless monotony and a complete lack of purpose. To steal from 'Fight Club' "This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time." And worse, this mindless space monkey assembly line of rubbish that we all have to put in our nine to five is driving us headlong towards total destruction. We aren't just wasting our lives on pointless bulls**t, we're collectively destabilizing the planet's ecosystems and damaging the future of ever child both born and unborn. We are doing rubbish work that we hate, five days a weeks, in exchange for the privelege of being the generation who destroyed the world.

That's not good.

That's not good and I want no part of it.

I want something better. But nobody is offering better.

Faced with this stark reality, I've gone through several stages. I got angry. I got depressed. I got anxious. I got nihilistic. And in the midst of all of this happy fun time, I occasionally get inspired.

That's now, If you're wondering.

I've been obsessively researching, thinking and collecting for the last decade and a half on how to deal with the problem of civilization. I call it the problem of civilization, because there really isn't one discrete problem. The problem isn't income inequality, or pollution, or unsustainable use of non-renewable resources, or crony capitalism, or or or or or or...

The problem is that the system we live in is broken. Based upon the idea of limitless growth (and more growth each year than the year before no less!), and worse, the idea of limitless growth with the decidedly limited laboratory that is planet Earth. I wanted to save things, to solve things, but that isn't going to happen.

We aren't going to change until change is forced upon us, and then it will be far too late to escape significant consequences for our inactions. It is already far to late to avoid significant consequences.

So. What are you trying to do?

I'm trying to do three things. I'm trying to work out and then spread the word on an alternate method of living, one that doesn't depend upon an endlessly gluttonous sustainable system. I'm trying build up a group (cult) of like minded people interested in helping build and spreading this alternate method. And last, I'm hoping to use this potential future network to enact an evil nefarious scheme which I will reveal only to good cultists (and may not have one at all!).

So there you go.

The Blood Market Chapter 17

Violetta stepped forward in answer to Blackwater's command. I glared at Violetta, as she grinned back, "It's time to make that omelet Dahlia. And you two are some of the eggs I get to break. Perks of the job. You know how it is."

I shook my head, "I don't consider violence a perk of the job. I enjoy action, but I take no pleasure in causing pain. I use violence as an unpleasantly effective tool."

"Oh, just get over yourself." Violetta said, "I just watched you kill Albrecht like a pouncing leopard. You don't get to pretend you didn't enjoy that."

"I am all a goggle. Of course I enjoyed it. I'm just under no illusion that my enjoyment is in any way acceptable. I am trained killer, Violetta. That isn't a nice thing to be. But I know that. I can look myself in the mirror. You on the other hand, are going to have to arrest two innocent people, and have them knowingly tried for treason. Make a deal with the real traitor. And then look in the mirror and try to convince yourself that none of this make you a horrible person."

"And I suppose you aren't a horrible person?"

"How did you survive to adulthood? Of course, I'm a horrible person. That's what I've been saying. The fact that I know it, and try to be better, is how I manage to look my reflection in the eyes every morning."

"This is getting boring now," Violetta said waving a hand," I have a pay cheque to collect and and ex girlfriend to beat up and then arrest. So let's get started."

I reassessed my options, but I knew Violetta could draw her revolver before I could react. Not that I wasn't going to try. The crowd of blood thirsty aristocrats in the stands pounded with boots and fists, whether in mockery or support I couldn't tell.

And then Harbinger raised a hand from where he lay on the ground, I do believe your boss had a question about my choices."

Blackwater leaned forward, "I did?"

"You wanted to know, why I just went along and played your game." Harbinger said.

"Ah yes, and why was that?"

"I needed to show you that I was taking the matter seriously." Harbinger said, pulling himself to his feet and shaking blood from his beard, "But now that I have your attention, I believe that your king is in check." Harbinger slowly raised his hand again, and the crowd grew silent. Into the silence, Harbinger spoke. "I am going to reach into the inner pocket of my jacket. I am not reaching for a weapon, but something that Lieutenant-Colonel Blackwater, Constable Priest, Gunter Albrecht - ah yes, we killed him, nevermind- and also Helmut von der Goltz, Count Rupprecht Vorbeck, Lady Sylvia Gray, Baroness Huo Zhi, and a few others that I have named on the document in my pocket. I think you will all wish to see this document, and I'd rather that you didn't shoot me as I removed it. I'll move slowly. Fair enough?"

Blackwater raised an eyebrow, "Proceed Mr. Harbinger."

Harbinger reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. Fitting a pinky under the seam, Harbinger tore open the envelope and produced a letter. Unfolding the letter, he began to read.

"I write this before I head to a probably death in the service of a noble cause. Or rather more probably in the service of a good cause, because I will in fact be acting against rather a few nobles, whose name I have given below."

The crowd murmured.

"They are involved in, or at least paying customers watching, what would be overly charitable to call a blood sport. Coerced, blackmailed, and tempted by the faint hope of much needed political asylum or medical treatment the poorest and most desperate members of our nation are engaging in games of Russian Roulette for the entertainment of our political so called elite. They watch and laugh and applaud in resplendent finery as the people who sell them newspapers, or bus their tables or work their factories put gun to temple and pray the barrel contains no lead."

The crowd grew very silent.

"I know the names of the ring leaders and the organizers. I know the names of many of the spectators, those people who paid to watch others die for their own entertainment. And what is more, I have evidence."

The crowd collectively gasped.

"This is matter that is particular importance to the crown at this moment. And in the most important cases, I have evidence that might embarrass a nation. For those who simply paid to watch the spectacle, I frequently have only enough evidence to destroy reputations and prove decisive in divorce courts. And lest you think to silence me here and burn this letter, please be aware that I am a man of prodigious exuberance. When I thought to sit down and write this letter, I realized that I had time to write several copies. I realized further that I had time to send those copies to people in the right places, with instructions- should I fail to return from my possibly fatal errant- to open and disseminate, in some cases publish the contents of my letter and all of its names and the evidence I had collected."

"That is a wise precaution on your part Mr. Harbinger," Blackwater said slowly, "It does all hinge upon the question of the evidence though, doesn't it? Are we to take you upon your word that the evidence to which you refer and upon which your survival depends is as impressive as you have claimed?"

"Not at all," Harbinger responded, "I made a list! Would you like to hear?"

"Proceed."

"I am travelling to the old horse track in the Arabian District, which I strongly suspect as the location where the deadly and highly illegal game of coerced russian roulette is being paid before a complicit audience. I have included photos of numerous illustrious members of our high society attending this venue in the sort of large groups that one expects of a sporting or gaming event and what one expects of a supposedly unused military horse track. Amongst those photographed I have included photos of Lieutenant-Colonel Algernon Blackwater speaking congenially with suspected local gang leader Gunter Albrecht and several men with criminal records and long established associations with various gang factions in Sticktown."

"Mr. Blackwater is of course, a part of the Royal Commission and all of this might be in the line of duty. But my photos do show an exchange of currency that seems excessive for the purchase of information. And my photos show him entering at roughly the same time a group of ethnic Chinese illegal immigrants entered the building, roughly six hours before half of said immigrants were found dead via self inflicted gunshot wounds to the head. In other words, Mr. Blackwater attended the event that ended their lives. His involvement would of course still need to be proven, but his attendance we can safely consider established."

"Likewise, the photographs provided will also establish the presence of Gunter Albrecht, Constable Violetta Priest of the Sticktown Sherrif's office and such notable Sticktown citizens as Helmut von der Goltz, Count Rupprecht Vorbeck, Lady Sylvia Gray, and Baroness Huo Zhi. I do wonder how the Baroness will explain her presence at such an event to Pacific Relief. I suspect the charity she runs might not appreciate having themselves associated with an individual who attends blood sport events involving blackmailed or coerced refugees from the very places they seek to assist, but perhaps I'm overthinking matters. But I do wonder how our dear Town Administrator, Mr. Fix will take the news that lady Gray, his largest finacial supporter has paid to watch people die. I am assuming, of course that there is an entrance fee. If I have survived this endeavor I will be able to confirm that suspicion, but I suspect large sums of money are what motivates this horrible spectacle. I also wonder how this scandal might affect Count Vorbeck's divorce proceedings, and the Mr. von der Goltz in his attempts to gain access to his later Uncle's rather large estate. But I am digressing."

"The question that the authorities will want answered is of course, can I prove anything beyond the fact that these people attended the event. The answer is that I can. I can prove that Los Hijos de la Guerra kidnapped the daughter of Julia Albrecht-Price, who was of course found dead from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"Lieutenant-Colonel Blackwater's direct guilt is hard to nail down, but I suspect that i have collected enough to convict him in the court of public opinion, especially given how sensitive the current diplomatic situation remains with the Empire of Hong Kong Especially. Mr. Blackwater wears a non New Jericho military award on his dress uniform: The RROC Order of Loyalty and Valor, and wears the Honor Sabre of the Awakened Lion as well. These indicate that Mr. Blackwater has served the Restored Republic of China in very distinguished manner and shows his expertise in Asian Affairs. He smokes extremely expensive Indonesia clove cigarettes that are notoriously difficult to obtain. Nothing suspicious there, but it does point him having the expertise and connections necessary to set up or run a smuggling ring in Asia. Of course he also havs the knuckle tattoo of Los hijos de la Guerra, whom we can show through eye witness testamony are involved in both the human smuggling, and the kidnapping of June Albrecht-Price and thus also the death of her mother. Now, half the armed forces wear such a tattoo. It could mean nothing, on it's own it probably would mean nothing. Then there is the interesting scarring on his face. Not the Schmisse, although, being a dueling scar that is suggestive. but rather the speckled burn marks on his face, that I have discovered are indicative of firing or dueling with black powder weapons. Now dueling is illegal, but hardly our primary concern, but a man with scars from dueling and from black powder weapons, with strong political and economic connections to Asia and an established link to one of the gangs implicated by eye witness testimony in the kidnapping of a mother and her child which we know from physical evidence relates to the smuggling and illegal coerced dueling events? That might be more than coincidence. I haven't asked the man to his face yet, and will of course have sent out this letter by the time I have the chance."

Blackwater relaxed back into his chair, "You do realize, in all of this, that I am your sister's superior officer do you not?"

Harbinger smiled, "If I may continue reading?"

"Go ahead, this is why we are still here after all."

"Obviously I will be keeping secret the identities of most of the people to whom I have sent this letter. But all other recipients of this letter should know that one copy has gone to my sister Major Cassandra Harbinger of the Royal Commission as insurance to protect her against retaliation from her commanding officer. By the time, I have the Lieutenant-Colonel aware of this, my sister will have had plenty of time to make her own plans and contingencies to protect herself and expose him further should he act against our collective interests. And now you, the other unnamed recipients of this letter also know that in the event of my sister's death, disappearance or downfall what you should do with your documentation."

"What do you imagine that I will do to Mr. Zhang Wei and his son at this point?"

"Have you looked for Zhang's husband lately, or the paperwork he kept to document your operations?" Harbinger asked.

Silence.

"Mr. Harbinger," Blackwater said sounding out each syllable slowly, "I believe that you do not have a strong enough hand to win this game of ours."

I looked around for the nearest weapon, Gunter Albrecht's body lay near enough to me. He almost certainly had been carrying a loaded gun. I prepared to leap for it, as Blackwater continued speaking.

"However, I believe that clearing you and your forces from the board will cause more damage to my own side than I would like to absorb at the moment. So tell me, what do you propose?"

Harbinger looked around, "It's simple. We walk away. You close this nasty little blood sport arena of yours. If your bored aristocratic trolls need violence to keep themselves distracted they can go back to pointing these anachronistic little hand guns at each other instead of desperate poor people used as little better than cattle. I'm sure you'll find a way to profit from that. Dueling is illegal, you can probably blackmail them directly. If you like I'll even let you keep copies of my surveillance photos to keep them in line. At least that way the victims won't be poor innocent people trying to pay for medical treatment. You let Zhang and his son go, you don't track them or follow them, just allow them to disappear. In exchange any nasty incriminating evidence they might have or have made copies of disappears as well. How does that sound?"

"No," Blackwater shook his head, and I looked to Albrecht's body and then back to Violetta to gauge distance. Violetta watched me as I did so, she stood about equal distance to the body and seemed to have realized what I must be planning. She shook her head. Blackwater continued, "In my capacity as part of the Royal Commission, I still need a scape goat. Somebody to wave to the Queen in order to make this all end in a tidy manner. Shall we throw young Dahlia Crowe out as the apparent villain in all of this? She is already disgraced, it will be an easy sell to both the Queen and the Public."

I waited, Harbinger looked at me and shook his head, "You'd have to kill me first, and then we both lose. Perhaps Mr. Albrecht there," Harbinger pointed at the corpse," Isn't that why you kidnapped June and had her mother play your game? To anger a weaker rival enough to make a run at your business ventures? You knew that you would need to jettison some of your illegal activity, and you knew that you you would need something to show the Queen and your superiors."

"I have no superiors," Blackwater said, "But your point is well made. That was precisely my intent. I asked only to see if I could force you to sacrifice more pieces on the board than you needed to in order to survive. Well played Mr. Harbinger, you have done extraordinarily well given your much weaker starting position. Very well. You shall give me the photos in your hands. We shall walk out of here. In one hour's time I will lead a Royal Commission investigation, based on reports from your about an illegal dueling ring you have broken up here. Constable Priest shall inform her Sheriff that the Royal Commission has convicted Gunter Albrecht of orchestrating the murder of the so-called Cholera suicides and of Julia Albrecht-Price. I shall further hand to my superiors evidence that Gunter Albrecht was running an illegal human trafficking operation with the Red Flag Fleet and their deceased leader Li Jing in order to fill spaces in their little blood sport operation. I have bodies of Li Jing and Gunter Albrecht. And the physical evidence here shall be more than sufficient to convict these already dead perpetrators. In addition, I will tell her Majesty that pursuing the spectators is likely not a profitable endeavor at this time, given that several are on her Council and nearly all of them are nobility, but I will keep those photos- so that you in attendance as guests today remember that I can take everything away from you by simply handing these photos over to her Majesty."

He turned back to Harbinger, "You and Dahlia may leave. The game is shut down. Nobody alive loses face. But remember that this truce lasts only as long as you two are able to keep your distance. We know each other now. Stay out of my affairs or you will learn just how dangerous I can be."

The Blood Market Chapter 16

We were taken to the stables of the horsetrack and thrown into a caged enclosure that had likely intended for horse breaking. We were searched and relieved of our firearms, my sabre and harbinger's knife. The  t-handle knife hidden in my concealed boot sheath escaped discovery, but that was small comfort.

"So what do we do?" I said staring at the ground, "They're going to make us play that game. And it's not like they're going to play fair, or let us leave even if there's some way to win. This is what you meant about dying in the line of duty. So is this it?"

"You know that I deal in magic, Dahlia. Did I ever tell you what magic was when strip away all the lies and tricks?"

"As far as I was aware, that's all magic ever was: lies and tricks."

"No, that's just how you work magic. Stories are magic, magic are stories. We are the heroes of this story."

"Heroes die in all the stories I loved as a child," I said.

"Ah, but in this story, your partner is a magician. And as you said, magicians use lies and tricks. Watch the door, I am going work some magic." Harbinger sat down at the little wooden bench and began to scrape wax from the candle that served as our light source, "Watch the door, not me!" He repeated and I turned to watch. harbinger kept talking in a conversational tone as I watched the hall outside our cell, "This is one of the oldest magic tricks in the book, this version itself tested by the Grandfather of magic: Jean-Eugene Robert-Houdin himself under conditions much worse than this. Throw me one of your boots. Mine don't have enough shoe polish. I'm not military enough, clearly."

I yanked a boot off and tossed it back, Harbinger caught it and began rubbing his fingers across the toe of the boot, "What are you doing watching me?" He asked, "Watch the door."

"Are you going to tell me this plan of yours?" I asked.

"I'm not. This is a long shot with a lot of variables. It's a plan with too many moving parts, none of which are nailed down. Just be ready to try and make an escape, regardless of what happens to me."

"Don't say that," I told him, "You're talking about this being a story, well people in stories who use the phrase 'whatever happens to me' always end up dead."

"Doesn't matter," he said, "Whatever happens, you be ready to take advantage of it. I will give you a chance, and it will only be one chance, so you be ready for it. Don't make me haunt you."

"Don't you dare sacrifice yourself for me," I said, turning back towards him, "I have enough dead friends on my conscience."

Harbinger tossed my boot back at me, "Too late, I'm ready. You're going to have to trust me, because we have no other plan."

I tried to count until they came to get us, but my nerves took their toll. Sounds kept distracting me, and I kept having to restart my count. Eventually an entourage of fifteen thugs came to collect us. I smiled, even disarmed they had finally learned their lesson on dealing with me. Blackwater himself stood behind the thugs, as they fitted us with elaborate carnival style masks to conceal our faces. Gunter Albrecht glowered beside him.

"What is the point of this?" Harbinger asked as a wiry man with a vandyke style beard drew a large beaked mask across Harbinger's face.

"All of the players are all masked.  Many of the wealthy who enjoy the show get squeamish if they have to look the people in the eyes. It's worse if they recognize the players," Blackwater answered.

"Cowards to the end," I said.

"Indeed," Bklackwater nodded, "But wealthy and willing to pay to have the cowardice catered to by people willing. People who seek happiness in external things eventually need ever greater indulgences, and the person willing to procure such things can make a great deal of money, and build a substantial power base. The aristocrat is a child, easily spoiled, easily upset, easily bored, easily bullied. They have great power and yet have no idea how to use it. People become nobility by living and dying by the sword, and then their descendents live and die by the silver spoon. It's disgusting, but easily exploited."

I watched as Albrecht's face tightened as Blackwater continued to talk. Harbinger must have noticed the change in Albrecht's face as well, as he turned his head to look at the other man as Blackwater gave his speech. A man fitted me with a carnival mask depicting a snarling lioness.

"And clearly the nobility are so easy to manipulate," Harbinger said, "Kill a few relatives, antagonize a noble blooded rival into a foolish gang war he has no chance of winning and you can easily gain control of your rival's forces, correct?"

Blackwater looked at Albrecht without changing his expression, "Something like that, perhaps. Enough, they are ready. To the field."

The thugs led us to the center of the horse track, with Blackwater parting ways to sit in a VIP box lookin down upon us. We stood before a table with a platter filled with all the equipment necessary to fire a flintlock pistol and the pistols themselves.

Gunter Albrecht waved to the plater and address the crowd, "The pistols are real. Our contestant can vouch for that, and may inspect and confirm that the ammunition and powder and all necessary equipment are genuine."

Albrecht gestured to Harbinger, "Inspect them. COnfirm for yourself that they are real, that there is no escape for one of you."

Harbinger looked at Albrecht, "Just me?"

Albrecht rolled his eyes, "You may both check."

Harbinger waved me forward, "You know this better than I do."

I inspected the equipment and pistols, looking everything over for some flaw that obviously wasn't there. After a moment, Harbinger joined me, examining first the pistols, then the ramrod and the cleaning equipment, finally the powder and the lead shot.

"It's all real," I said to him, "One of us is going to die."

"Say that louder." Albrecht said, "Let the crowd here your fate."

I raised my voice, "The weapons are real. You are about to watch somebody die for your amusement."

"Very amusing," Albrecht said, "For that little embellishment, why don't you go first?"

He picked up the platter and moved it out of our vision and loaded the weapons. I noticed that he stayed in view of the audience.

"They'll know which of us is getting the pistol that's actually loaded," I said.

"It doesn't matter," Harbinger said.

"Do you think he'll just load both pistols to get rid of us?" I asked.

"It's a pretty safe bet." Harbinger answered.

Albrecht returned and set the platter down. He addressed the crowd again, "I have loaded only one pistol. Fifty percent chances of survival. One shall stand and one shall fall. Our brave lioness shall go first, I think."

Harbigner stepped forward, "No."

Albrecht turned and looked at harbinger, "No?"

"It is my fault my junior partner is in this mess." Harbinger said to Blackwater, "I demand the right to go first. This is our game, and I am your opponent. You only need to defeat me."

"I have already defeated you. This is just your execution, but far be it from me to deny a man his last request. And in any case, you are not my enemy. This is chess, Mr. Harbinger. I move pieces around. I take pieces, and sacrifice pieces. And it all ends in checkmate. You are, in the end, my agent. You are an unconventional one to sure, a knight rather than a bishop or a queen, never moving in a straight line. But you still stand on my board."

"And you think you're the King. But the King does not move the pieces Mr. Blackwater, he is a piece on the board all the same. And I think you may have misunderstood my character in this little play. Because I believe that you are wrong. This is not chess. This is theatre. This is a story, and I am not the villain. You call me your knight, but you have forgotten my name. "

"The gun," Albrecht said. Harbinger picked up the pistol from the platter on the table and stared at it. The crowd gasped as he did, and I wondered what their reaction meant for me. He then pressed the muzzle of the gun up against the underside of his chin. The barrel disappeared beneath his beard.

"Old G.K. Chesterton always used to warn against invoking ancient gods,"Harbinger said, projecting his voice out to the back rows of the theatre," Something about them being quick to anger or other nonensene."

Albrecht shook his head, "Get on with it old man."

Harbinger ignored Albrecht and stared up Blackwater as he continued to speak, "Well I am invoking your namesake: Huitzilopochtli, the old left handed hummingbird and god of War of the Ancient Americans. And I am calling on his aid to best you in this battle. I
offer my blood and a sacrifice in his name! Let's see who the god's favor!"

And then he pulled the trigger and his face disappeared a crack of fire and thunder and an explosion of black powder smoke.

I don't scream. Little girls scream. I don't scream, often. I screamed.

"I guess he accepted your sacrifice." Blackwater said, a slight smile forming on his face, "I am not a King. That was his mistake. I am the player of the game."
I stared at Harbinger's body lying crumpled in the dirt of the stadium. I remembered Harbinger's demand that I take advantage of the chance that would give me. Was this it? Die on purpose so that I could walk free. They'd never just let me go free, I was sure of that, but I had to at least try.

Sound died away, leaving the arena bathed in silence. A low murmur crept into the arena from the stands. I looked around, counting the armed thugs, at least twenty that I could see. And Although most of the thugs carried clubs or machetes, more than enough had pistols strapped into hip holsters for my chances of escape to be virtually nil. I couldn't just give up thought, Harbinger had just died trying to by me a chance. I barely knew the man if I were to admit it honestly. I'd heard stories for years from my father, but had never met the man before this whole affair. And he had just died, willingly died, to give me a slim chance at survival. I had to try.

"The game ends when one of us dies, yes?" I said, addressing Blackwater and not Albrecht, "Well I've won. Let me go. It's over, you've got him."

"I have to admit," Blackwater said from his seat, "I didn't expect your partner to simply play the game. But I simply can't allow you to walk away with all that knowledge in your skull. I'm afraid that this time there are no winners as the rich and powerful here cannot tolerate being exposed. So we will have to empty your skull of its contents as well. Gunter, dispose of her."

Gunter Albrecht looked up at Blackwater with a look that I couldn't find a pleasant way of describing to myself. He didn't move immediately. The two men stared at each other for fifty three seconds before Blackwater sighed and shook his head.

"Gunter. The life of your niece means nothing to me. If her life also means nothing to you then, by all means, continue challenging my authority in these matters."

"When it comes down to the gutters," Albrecht said, "You're just the same as me; a thug in fancy clothes. You look down on me because I was born high. At least I understand I'm a bad man at heart. You and your chess talk, you're just pretending to be better than me."

"Potentially all true, and yet, irrelevant. Do you value the life of you niece?"

Albrecht looked away from blackwater and turned, taking a step towards me.

My mind raced. Would telling him the truth about his niece buy me time? Would it put June at greater risk? I said nothing.

Instead, I snatched the flintlock from the table, and fired it at Albrecht. He flinched but couldn't hope to move out of the way in time. I don't miss often, but something went wrong. A spray of blood spurted from Albrecht's neck. But I couldn't see a wound and he didn't stop advancing.

I heaved the table over and dropped behind it for cover knowing there would be other shooters taking aim. I could hear Albrecht's foot falls. I needed a workable plan, a way do get past the near two dozen armed opponents between me and freedom. I didn't see a lot of useful options.

"This is pathetic Crowe, face your death with some dignity." He said, and I heard him advance towards me.

Dignity and honor don't immpress me and never will impress me. I value victory and survival, and not necessarily in that order. I want my team to get through alive and intact, and I want to win the day. If I achieve the first, but not the second, I can try again. Albrecht put his hands upon the edge of the table. I had to act. The time for plans had waved goodbye as it passed.

"Fine," I said, "You want me to die a hero, I'll die like a hero." And I grabbed the table and rammed it up into his face and torso, knocking his head back.

"Heroes don't always die you know!" a familiar voice announced.

And Harbinger's corpse suddenly reached out and yanked Albrecht's Feet out from under him, sending the man falling backwards flat onto his back. He hit hard, I heard him gasp as the wind was driven out of him. I dropped back to my knees and drew out my t-handle knife from my boot and pounced on Albrecht, jamming the knife through his left eye. I let go of the knife and withdrew my hand and then drove a palm heel strike in to the handle of the knife driving it further into his skull. Blood sprayed from his nose and mouth, the wound spurted twice and then the body lay still. I stood up and looked at the crowd.

The nobles had nothing to say.

Blackwater sat leaned back in his seat, applauded," Well played, I must admit. But you still have no way to escape alive. Constable, I think you need to arrest these scapegoats, I mean traitors to the crown."

"It would be my pleasure. Nothing tastes sweeter than teaching some holier than thou priss some street justice. You think you're the alpha, Dahlia, I'm going to teach you that you're just a little..." Violetta said.

I spit into the dirt, "I cannot believe that I used to kiss that mouth."

The Blood Market Chapter 15

Cavalry Track Fifty-Six had stood since the earliest days of New Jericho, and had been decommissioned from active use before I ever put a foot in a stirrup. The building  looked at least as old as New Jericho itself, paint peeled from every surface. The metal frame sat rusting underneath a rotten wooden exterior. The tracks around the building had gone to seed and were nearly lost under generations of wild grasses and unrelenting invasions by wind borne weeds. But the whole site didn't match the expected state of a decomissioned and abandoned military structure. Somebody had replaced all of the doors. Paint had been scraped off the new doors to give the impression of age, but the paint had not faded and the wood underneath had not rotted. Somebody had also replaced the hinges with new steel hinges, and the same person had likely been the one to add new locks to all the door and bars to the ground floor windows. The walk in front of the main gates showed recent use however. The grass lay bent and trodd down, ruts and exposed earth spoke of fairly recent foot traffic. We weren't close enough for me to be certain, but the earth seemed from a distance to wear the tracks of many different sets of feet. These were the tracks of a crowd.

The whole tableau screamed of something not right, something hidden or concealed. And then, of course, there were the thugs patrolling with machetes. That certainly looked out of place on government property.

harbigner nodded to me, "Time for you to put that rifle to good use."

I flipped the Mosin-Hayha from it's case and brought it up to my shoulder, "I want to be clear here," I said as I took aim on the woman with the shaved head carrying the machete, "You're telling me to shoot somebody preemptively, not in defense, from concealment and with now military or police authority to back us up if we're caught. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Harbinger said, "People are dying here, on the whim of the powerful to entertain other bored rich people. As I see it, our duty as honorable people is fairly clear. We must do what is right, not necessarily what is just and not what will keep us safe. Any disagreement?"

"That's why they kicked my out of the military. I will always do what is right, not what is ordered."

"Then you've found where you belong, and we're probably about to die. Now, be a dear and cripple those guards please."

I squeezed the trigger and the woman's lead knee exploded, she fell to the ground and dropped the machete. I looked up from the scope and spotted the nearest two thugs. A big black man and a small caucasian man with a rat like nose had heard the gun shot and were looked at their fallen companion. I worked the bolt action, and sighted the closer man first. I fired, taking out another knee. I opened the action and ejected the spent round, closed the action and sighted the smaller remaining thug. I fired a third shot and took a third knee as a trophy.

"Time to move," I said, snapping the safety on the rifle and crouching low as I hustled for a different collection of discarded barrels.

Harbinger caught up and dropped into a crouch beside me, "Why are we moving?" He asked.

I peeked out at the three injured thugs and watched as several more thugs arrived on the scene. The woman who had shot me first pointed back towards our previous position.

"So they can't pin us down." I said and hustled further away from our original position.  The next set of cover I settled behind was a moldering pile of discarding hay, hardly what I would consider good cover. But I had taken us in a half circle arc around the building, and people were looking for us in entirely the wrong direction.

I flipped the safety off, and then sighted the thugs scouting our old position. Four men and three woman all carrying machetes were milling around the old steel drums we had started behind. I chose my target and collected my kneecap. Ejecting the spent round, I acquired a new target and shot out another thug's knee. The thugs panicked, dropping to the ground or seeking cover behind the drums.

Harbinger watched through a small spotting scope, "Why knees?"

"None of them are carrying pistols," I said, "You can't close the distance necessary to use a machete if you can't walk."

"Sound logic," Harbinger said and then clapped me on the shoulder, "Dahlia, bring me their kneecaps!"

"Nope," I said, "We need to move while they're still cowering, before they have a chance to spot us."

I flicked the safety on and then ran again, continuing to circle clockwise around the building. I knew that the predictable pattern presented a risk. But I needed to move in a way that wouldn't keep in the same line of sight from the entrance. I was gambling. That was the nature of war. I ducked behind a disused chain link fence with white plastic slats. The cover provided by the fence was purely visual and poor by even that metric.

"Lay on you belly," I ordered Harbinger, directing him by hand behind the fence. I dropped flat so that I could look past the fence, while keeping most of me behind visual cover. I flipped the safety and fired two rounds, striking two more thugs.

"And move!" I commanded, safety on, already running in a low crouch for the best cover thus far, a set of small sheck built from corrugated steel and heavy black plastic, surrounded by abandoned steel drums and an assortment for horse and cavalry equipment. I dropped behind the cover, and slipped down to my belly. I looked through my scope to assess the situation as Harbinger dropped down beside me.

I paused, watching the group of injured and uninjured, trying to gauge their condition and reactive ability. Then my soldier senses began to tingle.

"Do you smell that?" I asked sniffing the air. I rose to a crouch, and then stood up.

"No sense of smell remember?" He said, turning his head towards me.

"Cloves and tobacco, somebody smoking Jakarta Blacks."

"We know several people who smoke that brand," Harbinger said, standing up beside me.

"There's something else," I added, "It's masked by the cloves, but that smell of a human body that has forgotten to bathe.

Harbinger opened his mouth when a blackjack swung out from the shadows and struck Harbinger on his blindside. Harbinger collapsed to the ground in a limp heap like a burlap sack filled with bones. The familiar figure of Buster Brand stepped into view. Instead of his previous Gemsbok cigarette, a Jakarta Black hung from his lips. He grinned and three more figures stepped from the shadows. I recognized the figures of Jaromir Hus and his boss Gunter Albrecht, the third man was a big man of Indian descent dressed much the same as Hus.

I raised my rifle, and Hus lifted and tossed one of the steel drums into me, sending my sprawling to the ground and the rifle skittering out of reach across across the hard packed dirt.

"I thought you were going to ground?" I said to Brand, drawing out my sabre in a cut to drive the men back standing up and stepping backward to gain measure on the men, blade pointed forward in a medium guard, "Not taking the fall for this, and other tactics to save your skin."

Brand smiled and took a drag from his cigarette, "Honesty is the best policy in all things."

"And because you decided not to hide, I have to fight," I said.

Albrecht spoke, "I've heard that you didn't fight Miss Crowe. Word has reached my ears that killing is your art, and yet I've yet to find a single dead body of which you are to blame."

"Are you volunteering?" I asked.

"If you think you can manage the task, certainly."

He drew a Highland style broadsword and advanced flanked by Hus with his Bowie Knife and the Indian man with a pair of billy clubs. Albrecht threw a cut which I parried, but that left me vulnerable to his men. Hus moved to cut as my off hand while the gentleman with the clubs swung in from the outside of my sword arm. I withdrew away from Albrecht and Hus, given that their weapons would very likely kill me if they hit. But my retreat forced me to veer into range of the third man's clubs, and he took advantage of that sacrifice on my part and struck at me landing three blows before I was far enough out of Albrecht's measure to drive my pommel into the face of the Indian gentleman, just above the bridge of the nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils and he staggered back. He wasn't a threat compared to the other two. His blows had hurt, but I'd taken them on the arm and shoulder, and nothing felt broken. He could conceivably give me a concussion, but the real danger lay in him distracting me and leaving my open to a fatal cut or thrust from the other two. And so, as he staggered back I re-positioned and thrust the sabre straight into his midsection and quickly withdrew backing away from the other two men and behind the falling body of the man I had just stabbed.  He was probably dead. I couldn't spare a glance to be sure, and moved my sword arm and maintained a medium guard. The shoulder had began to ache, the clubs may have hit something important after all.

"You can just give up, you know." Hus called to me.

I calculated to myself. Hus' comment made it seem like they wanted me alive, but didn't want me to know it. Maybe I could push that. Maybe they'd hold back if I pressed. Hus seemed the most hesitant from his body language. His blade was also the shortest, only really dangerous to me if I got engaged with Albrecht's heavier broadsword. I thrust in at Hus as suddenly as I could, aimed from his knife hand, it being the closest target. Hus howled as I ran the blade through his hand and he dropped the knife. I moved to regain a useful defensive guard against Albrecht, but discovered that I hadn't surprised him. He brought a heavy cut down which I was out of position to parry well. I managed to block it, but my position was weak and my block collapsed. I instinctively moved to avoid being cut, but Hus wasn't out of the fight. The man tackled me to the ground, which probably saved my life. My sabre flew from my hand and Hus got clubbed on the forehead by basket hilt of Albrecht's sword. And I found myself on the floor with three hundred pounds of angry gang member kneeling on me. He threw a series of hammering blows with his off hand, of which I managed to block a few before taking a blow to the nose that probably broke it. The blow to my nose cause my eyes to water, preventing me from accurately blocking and the next blow hit my right eye, followed quickly be a wild blow that struck my temple and left me dazed.

Brand moved in towards me, evidently planning to look good for his boss. He scooped up Hus' fallen Bowie knife as he passed the fallen thug. I extended my arm towards him and flipped my wrist to activate the wrist holster. The Pepperbox extended into my wobbling hand and I squeezed the trigger as fluidly as I could manage. I had aimed for his knife hand, instead I hit his knee- which exploded in a cherry blossom of blood. Brand stumbled to the ground and dropped the knife, which skittered towards me. I reached for it, only to get struck from behind by the pommel of Albrecht's broadsword again. I blacked out for an instant, and came to pinned hard with Hus having applied a front forearm choke to my neck. I drew my Ehrenfeld from its holster, and was in the process of flicking the safety off when Hus noticed.

"Gun," He called to Albrecht, who quickly kicked the pistol from my hands with the aid of his heavy boots.

"I can crush your windpipe before you can do anything to me," Hus said applying more force to make his point, "Don't make me do it. You lost. It took all of us, but we thrashed you."

I felt my eye's closing again and fought to remain conscious.

"Enough," An emotionless voice said, "She is down. She is defeated. Take them into custody."

I forced my eyes open enough to see Blackwater standing above me.

"I assume that none of the people you spoke with were brave enough to name me as the Hummingbird. So I assume that this may be something of a surprise. Not unlike pulling back a curtain to reveal the little man hidden in the mechanical chess player."

"I knew it was you," I answered, "Even when I saw Brand with the Jakarta, I still knew it was you."

"Mr. Brand can't afford such cigarettes," Blackwater answered, "That was his reward for providing me with useful information regarding your investigation. Information that you should have already provided to me, I might add."

"I'm pretty sure Harbinger suspected you as well."

"The man is clever, but this is checkmate. And unlike in chess, I do insist on watching my executions."

"Spoken like a true sadist." I answered as Hus and Albrecht hauled me to my feet. I staggered a little as they did, and said to Hus, "I think you paid me back that concussion I gave you earlier."

He looked upset by that, which surprised me. Blackwater shook his head.

"No sadism, this is still chess. Everything is part of the great game, only now you will be a demonstration of my power, a method of enforcing obedience among my new associates, and proving my control over my enterprises to my clientele. I am making an example out of you. you wanted to get to the bottom of my shadow business endeavors. Well now you have. Not only will you get to see the Russian Duel, you'll get to participate. And you'll be playing against each other."

The Blood Market Chapter 14

"So you said that you knew what June meant?" I said to Harbinger as we left the Sun Yat Sen Club.

"It's not what it meant, but who." Harbinger answered, "I realized from our conversation with Zhang that people will do dangerous, even suicidal things to protect their loved ones, their family. I went looking for missing person reports including the name June. I had Rudy zero in on wealthy missing persons based on what we knew about the victim. and lo and behold, a name popped up. June Albrecht-Price; a young girl of eight years who went missing along with her mother, one Julia Albrecht-Price, a few weeks ago."

I raised an eyebrow, "Albrecht-Price was the name that came up? Didn't your sister just say that the head of the Song of Perun was some guy name Gunter Albrecht?"

"Yes, and he was mentioned in some of the reports Rudy found. I didn't think much of it until Cassie added that little gasoline fire to the equation. Apparently this is his sister-in-law."

"So, this was somebody leaning on Mr. Gunter Albrecht then? Or a revenge killing, blood feud and all that? Presumably this relates back to him." I said.

"Oh yes, I very much assume so. Li Jing is now dead. Gunter Albrecht has seen his sister murdered or likely rather induced to commit suice to keep her daughter from harm. This stinks of a gang war. The commentary of the Red Flag Fleet folks who attacked us suggests that the war is at least partially between the Red Flag Fleet and the Sons of Perun. But then the matter of los Hijos de la Guerra and the Hummingbird lurk in the background. Zhang mentioned this Hummingbird, as did our Mr. Buster Brand. He seems affiliated with los Hijos, but they have been back and out of the way during all of this. They have been present by reputation alone, and I do not know why."

"Wait a minute," I said, "Brand must be los Hijos, because he answers to the Hummingbird, correct? And it was Brand that had been ordered to watch the child, the one we think was June. And June is the niece of Gunter Albrecht. What is the motive behiind that? Antagonizing the Sons of Perun?"

"We are missing pieces to the puzzle. Control of the human smuggling market seems at the center of all of this. I'm still at a loss regarding the suicides, some piece of the grenade are missing. I can see the damage caused by the shrapnel, but not the shrapnel itself."

"That's morbid metaphor."

"But apt I think. We have walked into a room where a grenade has detonated. People are lying dead around us. And now we have been asked to determine the make of the grenade by examining the damage and working out from the spray of the shrapnel what the thing looked like before it went off. "

"People are still dying." I added, "It would be more apt to say that we've been sent to a mine field to find out what kind of mine went off, but have to do so without setting off the mines still in the ground."

"Oh, very good, I like that better. I mean not living it, but I think that it better describes our situation."

As we walked I noticed that Harbinger had turned away from the Baker's district. Streets became fancier and buildings grew more upscale as we continued.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Mr. Brand chased young June back towards the wealthier parts of town, but not the fanciest, near where your new girlfriend lives. But the young girl doesn't live in that area. I had Rudy do a little research. Julia Price married up quite successfully from nouveau riche to old money. The Albercht family is one of the very old German descended families that controls so much of the Mountain District. The Price family, on the other hand, made their money by attempting to revolutionize larger scale beekeeping to decrease the number of hives lost to things like mites and parasites. They haven't quite succeeded onthe scale that they wanted, but they made a fair bit of money, and have done well enough to by a house near Mrs. Darrington and her daughters. They own several houses, as it happens, and just moved from their original home in the district into a newer and fancier home- probably thanks to Julia marriage to Gunter's brother."

"So she was running for the home she grew up in you think?"

"I do, and based on Mr. Brand's method of hiding in homes of that sort, I suspect we will find the young girl in the walls."

"How will we get in? Walk up and tell them that the missing child of their dead relative his maybe possibly hiding in the walls of their old house? Do you have anything other than a hunch on this?"

"Wouldn't you want any help you could find in order to save your daughter or niece?"

"I wouldn't want a manipulative stranger digging through my house on a promise and guess."

"Then I guess we'll have to sneak in."

"breaking and entering. Brilliant. How could that go wrong?"

Arriving a the house in question, Harbinger instructed me to look for tracks and evidence of a child sneaking in through an avenue other than the front door. This took very little time. Children generally lack training in counter tracking, and we soon found ourselves looking at a side window.

I pointed to the window, "That window's been forced open from the outside, and those are June's tracks beneath the window. Your hunch seems correct."

Harbinger nodded and marched around to the front of the house. I followed.

"Do we have a plan?"


"Follow my lead," Harbinger said as he approached the door.

Harbinger knocked loudly on the door and then pulled the bell and waiting. We waited nearly three minutes before the door opened and a hispanic couple in serice uniforms answered the door.

"Hello sir, madam? Are you my clients?: Harbinger said, speakinga little louder than I thought necessary.

The two people looked at each other and then back to Harbinger in clear confusion.

"I see that you are not, my apologies. My name is Professor Freeman Harbinger, perhaps you've read my pamphlets upon supernatural possession or haunting of a location by unquiet spirits? In either case, the owner of this home contacted me through an intermediary and asked for my assistance in performing an exorcism in order to remove an excessive amount of negative energy and the accompanying malicious spirits residing within the walls. The ritual should take no more than two hours, and then location should be safe to inhabit after that. I am impressed by your loyalty to your employers staying in a house so heavily haunted by such vicious spirits. you must have very strong auras to resist the nightmares. You haven't been too put off by the sounds in the walls have you?"

The two looked at each other and then back to Harbinger, their faces registering visible growing alarm.

"They should be entirely incapable of possessing human beings based on my initial investigation. In fact I estimate less than a forty five percent chance that the spirits will attempt any violence at all during the exorcism, it should be almost totally safe as long as you don't show fear. In fact you would be welcome to stay and watch, and perhaps assist in the rituals if you like. It's a very good show, very little blood and only a littel screaming from beyond the veil. So how did you want to proceed."

And thus we found ourselves inside the entry hall of a home that didn't belong to us, while the house staff waited outside huddled together like children. On a low table in front of us sat a large heavy wooden casket that appeared to be made of hardwood, making it very expensive.

"How did you know that would work," I asked as we began looking through the house, from room to room.

"Did you see the brooch with the occult looking pattern that the woman was wearing? That was the veve of Ayida-Weddo, one of the Loa of Haitian Voudou. Practitioners of Voudou understand the dangers of spiritual possession and uncooperative spirits."

"We aren't looking for a spirit." I pointed out.

"Details." Harbinger said.

"What happens when the owners come home?" I asked.

"I'll handle it."

"Well," I said tapping the casket, "I guess we understand why they were so ready to believe in unquiet spirits. Followers of Voudou minding a house witha coffin in the front room. Who's in here do you think? Is this relevant to our business?"

"Let's check!" Harbinger said, prying up the lid and swinging it open, hinges locking into place and nearly tipping the casket off the coffee table. I flinched and waited until the table had stopped swaying before I approached and looked into. The man inside the coffin looked a great deal like Gunter Albrecht, right down to the mustache. He had been dressed in a similar cut of suit, but without the pin-stripes. The body appeared serene, save for the missing eye balls and the poorly concealed entry and exit wounds on his temples."

"I'm guessing that was June's father then?" I said cautiously.

"We should start looking for June," Harbinger said and then nodded, "I'm starting to sense a pattern in all of this."

"Really?" I said, joining him in the search, "Just now? Maybe I should be the senior partner."

Harbinger turned away and began knocking on the wood panelling of the walls. We swept the entry way and moved into a nearby drawing room.

"I mean, that I can feel the pieces of this whole great flying mess fitting together. The picture isn't clear yet, but I feel that I am very close."

"Well, when you find it, let me know," I answered, running my hands along the walls feeling for seems.

"Maybe," He said with a grin.

Eventually we found the room with the window through which June must have entered. Muddy tracks had been ground into heavy rugs and streaked across the hardwood floor. I followed the trail to a laundry room, and then to a panel of wall with concealed hinges and wear on seams that should never have moved, were the panel simply part of the wall.  I looked at the panel and then nodded quietly to Harbinger. I felt around, found a latch with little difficulty, and opened the panel. Sitting in the space in the wall, with her hands around her knees was a girl off about years old by appearance, dressed in a perrywinkle blue and white summer dress now stained with dirt and grease and blood and torn in at least a dozen small places. The hirls face and arms and knees all bore scrapes or purple bruises. Her hair had been strawberry blonde before this began, but was now grey brown from the mud caked into her half exploded french braid. As she saw us, she scrambled back further into the hidden chamber.

"Honey? Are you June?" I asked dropped to one knee to put myself at the right height to address the girl before me. She nodded, but didn't say anything. "We're here to help you."

"We're friends of your mother," Harbinger added

June scowled at Harbinger, "No, you're not. They took me and my mommy away and I had to run and hide. She said it was going to be okay. But it's not okay. She showed me the guns, but she still went away. Even though she didn't lose. And Daddy is in a box in the front of the house."

"You're right honey. We don't know you mommy, we're trying to help find the people who took her. My friend wanted to make you feel safe. Adults do that, they lie when they want children to feel safe. Can you tell me about the guns, the ones your mommy showed you? Can you tell us why she thought that they meant she would be okay?"

June was quiet for a solid sixty four seconds before nodded and crawling deeper into the compartment. After nearly one hundred and thirty seconds she called back, "Follow me."

Harbinger shook his head, "There is no chance that this belly is fitting through that opening. You will have to follow the child."

I smiled and nodded, "I'm coming June."

I dropped to hands and knees and squeezed into the compartment. I just barely fit and experienced a brief feeling of claustrophobia before emerging in a room that appeared had been constructed to serve as a panic room, probably during the Banner War. A small table had been mounted on the wood framing of the walls, along with two small chairs. On the table sat five beautiful custom built ornately inlaid flintlock pistols.

"When they let me talk to mommy, she would show me the new gun she had and would tell me that she only needed five guns to go home. She let me keep them when she got them," June held up and open hand with all five fingers displayed to make her point, "But then she got five guns and they wouldn't let her go, said she had to stay. Next time she saw me, she told me to run away and hide in here as soon as they weren't looking. She told me to run fast and hide and not look back. The guy they made watch me was a dummy so running away wa easy. But mommy never found me. I don't know what happened to mommy."

I looked at the flintlocks on the table, and tried not to visualize my only memory of June's mother. I confirmed with a quick examination that each pistol had been fired, but examination of the barrel showed something bizarre. The pistols had been fired, but there was no scraping to indicated that the guns had ever been loaded with anything besides paper wadding. The guns had all been fired without a lead ball ever being rammed down the barrel. My mind processed the information. Five guns. All fired. None ever loaded with a live round. Julia Albrecht-Price died of a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head, but all previous guns had been fired empty.

"They were making her play Russian Roulette." I said.

"What's Russian Roulette?" June asked.

I started, realizing I had spoken aloud. I paused a moment, and then answered, "A very mean game. We need to go sweetie. A lot of bad things are happening, and we need to fix them."

"I can't fix anything," June said.

"Not yet," I said, "It's our job to fix things, but we need your help to do it. My name is Dahlia, and the man outside is Mr. Harbinger. We help people, that's what we do. That's our job. And right now we need to help you, and we need you so that we can help other people. Can you come with us honey?"

After a moment June nodded and we extracted ourselves from the wall. I showed Harbinger the flintlocks and explained my theory. Harbinger nodded and opened his mouth to speak when movement out the window caught my eye and I turned to see what was happening. Outside, in fron of the house, an array of large men and women in sheriff deputy uniforms had assembled with pistols drawn.

"That looks like Constable Priest." Haringer said, eyeing the familiar figure at the front of the group.

"Are they coming to search the house?" I asked

"More like raid it," Harbinger said.

"Why?"

"Did they get a tip?" Harbinger asked, "I don't see Hurley with your ex-girlfriend. In fact the other deputies are all unfamiliar to me, and I know all of Hurley's staff."

"new recruits?"

"Unlikely."

"Conscripts?"

"More unlikely."

I raised an eyebrow, "Imposters? I do see more than one prson in the little army with 'Hijos' tattooed on their knuckles."

"That's a troubling thought."

"Shall we go out the backdoor?" I asked.

"Let's," Harbinger agreed.

Fortunately for us, Violetta had not secured the back entrance, and we slipped out and the front door slammed in. We stuck to side alleys as we made our way back tot he Baker's District, as neither Harbinger nor I was sure what this raid meant for us personally.

We arrived at harbinger's office to find a brown paper package stuck out from the mail slot. We opened the first door, and Harbinger pulled the package free and inspected the postage.

"It's from Rudy," He announced.

June jumped up and down trying to read postage, "It says its from a William Wentworth Wiggins from someplace called Wallaby Way." She said.

"Rudy doesn't like to his own name on documentation. He isn't a fan of formal systems of government."

"These days, I'm less of a fan than I used to be as well." I said.

Harbinger pulled out an archaic old pen knife from his breast pocket and slit open the package as we walked up the stairs. He peered into the oversized envelope as we walked back into Harbinger's war zone of an office.

"This is really messy. I don't keep my room this messy." June said, "I didn't think anybody kept their room this messy."

"I'm going to have to clean this, aren't I?" I asked, "You're never going to get this place in shape."

Harbinger looked up from the mass of papers and photos he had removed from the envelope, "Don't worry about that, we're probably about to get killed in the line of duty. So with any luck, neither of us will ever need to address the condition of our office."

"Until this place is clean, it's your office. What do you mean 'killed in the line of duty?', what did Rudy find?"

"Who's getting killed?" June asked.

"Hopefully nobody," I answered, "Harbinger, what did Rudy find?"

"Several things. He has followed a trail that leads to some sort of illegal event that seems to be occuring at horse track in the Arba District. And he has plenty of suggestive photographs of people going in and out of the place."

"Is that the location of our Russian Roulette game do you think?" I asked.

As harbinger nodded, I heard the sound of the lower door open, and then listened to the sound of pounding steps moving up towards the office door. I reached for my pistol. The steps stopped abruptly at the inner office door. A black shadow visible through the frosted glass began pounding on the door.

"Mr. Harbinger! I know you are in there! This is your fault! They have taken him!"

"Well get in here then!" Harbinger said, and I watched as the door swung open and the man with the pompadour and the burgundy pin stripe suit from the blood market stormed in.

"They have taken them both!" The man said,

"He's loud," June said.

"Mr. Hanjaya?" Harbinger said, his eye brows crowding together in concern, " I presume you mean your husband and your son? And, based on what you are involved in, and what we are investigating, I presume that 'they' means either Los Hijos de la Guerra or the Sons of Perun."

"Wei spoke to you. You convinced him to say too much. The Hummingbird cannot punish me directly. I am too useful. And so he will hurt me through my family. Because of you, he has taken my son! Because of you, my husband will play his game of death!"

"They've taken him to play the Russian Roulette game?" I asked.

"As a way to punish him for saying too much! And they've taken Ricky to force him to comply. He must play or they will kill our son!"

I stood up, "Or I kill him," I said, "I am going to stand over that monster's corpse and kick his skull in."

Harbinger stood up, "Go to my sister. Tell her to expect a communication from me. Tell her everything that you know. She will be able to protect you."

"Are you certain that she's not involved in this?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I'd make a deal with the devil long before she would. Her methods are dark and shadowy, but she doesn't compromise."

hanjaya looked between us and then spoke, "If you are serious, I can give you the location the nasty little blood sport. The next show is tonight. And so you must hurry."

Harbinger nodded and pointed to the address on Rudy's note, "Is this the location?"

Hanjaya nodded quietly, "Yes, how did you know?"

"My agents have been tracking people who could suddenly afford medical treatment," Harbinger answered, "And the trail led back to events held in that location, rich and powerful people go in the front door, the poor and desperate go in the back door. Only half the poor and desperate come back out."

"And this is what you're helping to run," I added.

Hanjaya nodded silently, and then suddenly seemed to notice June, "That is Albrecht's niece! How did you find her?"

"Clever detective work."

"She is the Hummingbird's leverage against the Sons of Perun."

"That sounds right," Harbinger said with a nod.

"Are we telling Hurley or Cassandra now?" I asked.

"No time to do that, and anyway, I have other reasons to leave their respective organizations in the dark for the moment. We don't know if you ex-girlfriend was acting alone or upon whose behalf she was acting when she raided that house. We have to assume everyone is against us right now. Leave me be. I need to write something. I'd prepare as though you were going to war Dahlia- because we quite possibly are doing just that."

I could have argued with him, but he had sat down at a metal desk. He stared at the mess and then swept the rubbish off the desk in a clashing clattering that must have been audible outside. June leaped back at the sudden action and stood behind me. Hanjaya sat quietly, looking sick. And June stared at me intently.

"If we survive, I will help you clean this." He said, "Now. If we have any chance of walking away you will need guns and knives and swords and whatever other nasty military toys you have left over from you days of service. And I? I will need paper and an ink well."

I looked around," You just knocked it on the floor and broke it." I said.

"Are we going to get in trouble?" June asked.

"I think Mr. Harbinger is always in trouble June honey."

"Oh, well so much for dramatics." Harbinger's shoulders slumped, "Can you find me another please?"

I shook my head, "Are you sure that this is the best option?"

He looked over at me, "We don't have a best option. I have speculations and gambles and if they are wrong, then we are dead. And if they are right, we may still be dead. I will tell you what you need to know, but please- as my partner- I need you to trust me. Anything that I keep from you know, I do in order to help our chances of survival. That's not a pleasant prospect for a soldier who's been so badly betrayed by commanders- I know. But if we survive this, you will see what I mean. And if you think I was wrong, and if we are still alive, I will apologize."

I found an inkwell on the ground that had survived Harbinger's dramatic flourish and handed it to him, "You're the boss." I said.

"No no no," He said, "I'm your mentor. If we find ourselves toasting our success tomorrow, then you will be nothing less than my partner- you'll have earned it."

And with that, Harbinger turned back to his desk and began to write. I nodded and stepped across piles of rubbish to my duffel bag and hard frame backpack.

"Are you going to get in a fight?" June asked me as I unpacked my gear.

"It does appear that we are going to start a fight," I said, "And from what Mr. Harbinger says, we may be in a lot of trouble. Bad people will want to do bad things to us."

"So you're going to kill them first?"

I removed the Ehrenfeld 9mm checked the gun,  chambered a round, and topped up the magazine, and then cocked and locked the gun and slipped back into my hip holster.

"Well that's not the first choice," I said, but I suspect that we aren't going to be given a choice." I removed my Wittegenstein .32 rimfire Pepperbox holdout pistol from it's wooden storage case and strapped on the spring mounted wrist holster and then holstered the little pistol. It would escape detection in a pat down, but still might surprise an unprepared enemy. The Eccelston T-handle knife was already in my boot sheath.

I picked up my .315 Mosin-Hayha Rifle, still in it's leather should carry case, and opened the case.

"That's a big gun," June said.

"It's not that big for a rifle, not really," I said, "This is the Mosin-Hayha. It's bolt action rifle originally intended for hunting, but it's really reliable and it doesn't break easily and when the rifle does stop working, repairs are much easier than on other rifles. The military issues Mosin-Hayha rifles because all the rifle designs that they commissioned weren't as good. This gun was designed based on two really popular guns from before the fall. This gun belonged to my father before it belonged to me. And he hired a gunsmith to make this gun even better than other Mosin-Hayha rifles."

The magazine my father had commissioned held fifteen rounds, where the convention magazine held only 5. I loaded the custom magazine into the rifle, and filled three standard magazines as a back up and strapped them into the bandoleer strap of the rifle case. I chambered a round and then topped up the magazine of rifle before checking the safety and putting the rifle back into the custom case- this time in the quick draw configuration. My sabre was resting against the back and I strapped it back on, I could apologize to Victoria if she found out, if I was alive to be sorry.

"You have a sword." June said.

"I do. This is a cavalry sabre. The blade is shaped for cuts over thrusts, because it's easy to cut when you're riding a horse."

I removed my jacket and drew my concealed armor vest from my backpack. In the heat of the dry season, the armor was truly unpleasant to wear- but so are gunshot wounds. I put on the vest, most of its protection came from small ceramic plates, and a certain amount of kevlar. the ceramic plates could deflect blades and bullets. The kevlar would only help again the small arms fire. The vest only protected my torso, front and back and lower torso on the sides, but that was preferable to nothing. I put my jacket back on, and now appeared to have gained ten pounds or so of unflattering weight. If they knew me, they might realize I wore armor- otherwise I was just a big woman. I was a big woman, a bigger woman then. I strapped on the shoulder carry case for the Mosin-Hayha. I turned back to Harbinger, who was sealing four envelopes. I watched as he wrote out the addresses on the backs of the envelopes.

He looked over at me and I saw his eyes widen, "Well that's a terrifying image. We might just get out of this yet. By the books of Solomon, you look like death come down to collect in person. Now, it's time to talk with our landlord. Young lady," Harbinger looked at June, "Would you like to meet a real live knight of New Jericho?"

June nodded and harbinger continued, "Now he's been a knight for a very long time and he isn't young anymore, but this man has fought for New Jericho longer than most people you know have been alive. That we are not under the thumb of the Bannerlands is partially his doing and you can thank him for that if you like. But treat him with respect, he's fought long and hard and earned the right to rest and enjoy his retirement. And since I'm about to drag him into yet another fight, politeness is important."

June nodded and Harbinger reached forward and tussled her hair.

"Mommy is never coming home is she?" June asked.

Harbinger opened his mouth and then closed it again without speaking. He turned away and then turned back and once again opened and closed his mouth in silence.

"Your Mommy is never coming home." I said, "Bad people took her away, and in order to keep you safe she made a choice that means she'll never get to come home."

"I miss her."

"I know. I can't bring your Mommy back. But Mr. Harbinger and I are going to go make sure no other Mommies have to make that same choice to keep their children safe. And we're going to make sure that the people who did this realize just very very bad a mistake it was to take away a little girl's mommy."

Harbinger gave one letter to Hanjaya with instructions to seek out his sister and ask for her protection.

"Talk with nobody else, not below her or above her in the chain of command. We cannot trust anyone else."

"I know that very well," Hanjaya agreed, "But can I trust your sister?"

"You can, Now go, before the noose tightens."

Hanjaya left, scurrying from alleyway to alleyway, trying his best to keep out of sight.
We found Harbinger's landlord, Sir Henry Barchester in his modest little suite. The suite sat across from Harbinger's, over a pastry shop that also paid Mr. Barchester rent. He opened the door, a small fragile looking man with a gentle smile and eyes that told people not to cross Sir Henry Barchester.

"Hello. Young Freeman, are you actually delivering your rent early? That would make a wonderful change. And who are these beautiful ladies by your side. I thought you were past all of that."

Harbinger smiled a thin smile, "I am past all of that. Too old for another kick at the can. Here," Harbinger handed Mr. Barchester the envelopes. "If we don't surface alive within a week or if we do surface, but not alive- well, you know the procedure."

"We? Are you dragging these ladies with you on your latest attempt to spit in death's face. Hmm, I imagine death doesn't have a face, at least not if he's the typical skeleton looking death. Hmm, I imagine death wouldn't ahve a gender either. Ignore me. I'm old. But why would you drag these two fine ladies to their doom?"

"I'm only dragging one of them to their doom. I apologize, I should have introduced you sooner. This is Dahlia Crowe, my new apprentice, new partner if we survive what's about to come. And this beautiful young lady is June, and she is why I am knocking on your door. The rent will have to wait to see if I am alive to pay it. If not, my will bequeaths the publishing rights to my pamphlets and books to you as a way of making up for past late payments and complications."

Mr. Barchester tilted a head, "We've done this before. You give me letters and then I burn them when you inevitably surface alive. Why the drama this time?"

"I can't tell you. Ignorance is my leverage in this case. Take the usual precautions, but in this case what people don't know- but might if I opened my mouth- is what's going to keep us alive if everything else goes wrong. But this young lady needs a place to hide. And I do mean hide.Tell nobody that she's in your care, don't even keep her here if you can help it. Put her somewhere nobody will check if they look for where I might have hidden here."

"well, good luck then young man. And young lady," He looked at me, "I would wish you good luck, but I suspect that you have run out of luck if fate brought you into young Freeman's employ. So I will instead tell you this- make the best of your bad luck and make the enemy wish they had not crossed you. And you young lady," Mr. Barchester looked down at June, "Do you by any chance play that wonderful African board game with the two lines of pockets and the chips that walk up and down the line things?"

"Mancala?" Harbinger asked.

"Yes, mancala." Mr. Barchester said. June shook her head and Mr. Barchester clapped two wrinkled hands clad in paper thin skin together in delight and continued speaking, "Then I must teach you. It's a wonderful game where the trick is to force your opponent to give you the victory by their own actions. You can't win by acting directly, but by making your opponent take bad moves. Wonderful fun, I'll teach you- we will visit a friend of mine. I doubt anyone will find us there. Run along Freeman, a pleasure to meet you Dahlia dear. June and I are going to explore military tactics through that classic method of learning by playing. Run along."

Mr. Barchester ushered June inside his suite and closed the door. Harbinger looked at the door as it closed and then nodded once and turned to face me, "Now, are you ready to get into a lot of trouble with substantial risk of bodily harm?"

"I'm a soldier, that's my job description. So now we go, find an illegal Russian Roulette stadium, confront a high ranking member of the Royal Commission about his likely ties to human trafficking and illegal blood sports, somehow come out alive, and then find a different way of earning Mr. Barchester's rent?"

"Something to that effect."