Smoke and Iron

Chapter 11- Another Hard Day’s Work Part 1

It was the giggling that woke me, Gemma's high pitched shriek no less. Like clockwork I hear Lark chuck her boot into the wall. 

"Oy cut the crap!" Lark bellows, "Miss Cole had me up till midnight entertaining them sarden louts."

"I can't help it," Gemma replies with another bout of giggles. Her laughter soon followed by the rustling sheets across the room. 

"Cala won't stop tickling me."

"Well I don't care what's causing it as long as you stop it," Lark growls.

"Hey don't you be talking to my girl like that," Cala drawls, her voice laid back and a little drowsy.

"Is not her fault she's got sensitive arms."

"Well if you keep making your sensitive armed lover giggle, I will personally throw you out into the street," Lark hisses.

"Gods curse it," I growl, "if you lot keep carrying on Miss Cole will have your sorry bums cleaning the pots, and I don't mean the ones for cooking."

Freeing myself of my warm sheets, I glare at them in the dim light. Lark still staring daggers at Gemma, with her hand wrapped around another shoe. Her target now huddled behind Cala's lanky form, while Cala rests her chin on her fist. The conniving pair smiling with mischief as their eyes dance with glee.

"I'm surprised Jade hasn't been woken by your shouting."

As if their bickering wasn't enough, Jade decided unconsciously to emit a full throated snore. After that there was no stopping us from laughing till we all had tears streaming down our cheeks. Poor Gemma catches the hiccups from all the laughing, making us giggle even more when she tries to reprimand us.

"You little "hic" wenches, I'm nearly "hic" losing my guts "hic" here and all you can do is''hic" "hic" laugh!"she bellows.

"Now you know how I feel every single morning," Lark drawls.

'It's not the "hic'' same thing," Gemma scoffs.

"Oh it so is," Lark growls, as she rises to her feet, the fabric of her nightdress fluttering like birds' wings.

Prowling over to Gemma and Cala's pallet, she hovers over them with her hands splayed on her hips. The ends of her long braids almost touch the tops of her calves, the locks brushing the leather of her dagger sheath. Lark's fiery gaze travels across the girl's forms, Cala reclining herself on a small mountain of pillows and Gemma hunkering behind her muscled shoulder.

"Everyday it's the same thing, you lot wake me up with your screeching and carrying on, and then you think it's funny when I get mad", she says.

Cala just gives Lark a bored stare, as she stretches herself out on the pallet. Her ebony colored arms and legs shining underneath the dim light, drawing attention to the small leopard spots inked into her skin. Purple spots matching those on her twin sister Cora's limbs, the story behind them is one they have sworn us to secrecy on pain of death. As young girls they were stolen from their home on the coast of Kamunda, and taken across the sea to Talvos. 

Their captors had believed they could sell them for a high price, for in Kamunda twins are rare and are thought to bring unearthly fortune to others. So deep is this belief that parents of these children decorate the young one's bodies with matching tattoos, in the forms of trees, flowers, and animals. In hopes that the children would give strength and life to them, or to give the children strength instead.

Unfortunately the twins's captors found out how common sets of twins were in the Eastern Kingdoms. The men were soon forced to sell them for only a few gold coins, to Miss Cole no less. The trauma of their capture left them with a wish to never hear of the tattoos again, the spots being a physical reminder and the reason for the k********g. 

Even though we ended teaching their kidnappers a lesson, it never did help to ease the ache. Though they hide it well under their calm and relaxed demeanors. Never have I seen a flicker of doubt in their faces, even when they suspend themselves several feet in the air to do their acrobatic stunts. 

The same demeanor that envelopes Cala's reply in a soft almost melodic tone.

"It is not your anger that is amusing little Lark, but the way your mouth puckers forming those obvious wrinkles," Cala drawls.

"What!" Lark shrieks, turning, she hurries over to the small cracked piece of glass in the wall that serves as our only mirror.

Placing herself in front of the glass, Lark scrutinizes her face with a worried fever. Her eyes frantically searching for those supposed wrinkles, her face quickly scrunching into a frown just as the door opens with a bang. 

"Where's the fire!" Darius yells, as he rushes through the doorway with Mark and Farris in tow.

They barrel into the room, but are soon stopped when Darius's foot trips on Lark's forgotten shoe. Losing his footing, Darius goes head over heels and rolls right into Jade still sleeping on her pallet. Mark bumps into Farris's back, the two imbeciles then fall onto the floor in a pile of swearing limbs. Their eyes suddenly go wide as Darius swiftly back crawls away from Jade, just as she throws her own shoe into the air. The red slipper smacking Mark right in the face, the force throwing him back and straight into Cala and Gemma. 

"Oh curse it!" Mark yells, "I think you just broke my nose, again!"

"And I'm about to break you goldy, if you don't get your sorry ass off my bed," Gemma threatens.

Her slim frame hovering over Mark like a wraith, the threadbare hem of her shirt barely reaching her pale knees. Mark's face turns a shade paler, while Cala smiles in appreciation at her lover's evil snarl. 

"Oh quit your whining Mark you deserved it," Farris snickers.

"Yea," Darius chimes in, "a little birdie told me that you were sniffing around the wrong tree, or should I say girl."

Mark pulls himself to his feet, a sly grin spreading across his face as his eyes take on a feral gleam. Striding across the floor he grabs a hold of Darius's cotton shirt and says the worst thing he could have said.

"At least I'm not the one who woke up Jade," he says with glee.

"What did you say," Jade utters in a low threatening voice. 

All three of the guys jump and turn around to face her, the cloth of her nightgown flowing over her plump curves. The green of her eyes sparking with new found anger and irritation. Hands on her hips, we all watch with rapt attention as her furious gaze runs down the terrified faces of the guys. I catch Farris giving me a quick wink before pushing Mark into the direct line of fire. With a grunt Mark stumbles across the floor, stopping just shy of Jade's pallet. Catching her gaze Mark raises his hands up as if attempting to calm a feral tiger.

"Nothing, I said nothing," he says, voice quivering.

Mark reflexively turns his pleading gaze to me, those blue eyes begging for mercy. Rolling my eyes, I pull myself up into a seated position amongst my cocoon of blankets and pillows. Stretching out my arms with a following series of pops from my back, I lean back against the wall giving Mark a cheeky evil grin.

"Go on Mark," I say as I place my hands behind my head. 

"Tell her who's responsible for waking her up, I dare you."

He gulps, as he stares back at Jade. Knowing full well the outcome will not be in his favor.

"The person who woke you up," Mark says as he slowly steps backward as Jade continues her advance.

"Didn't mean to and they are very sorry, but I can't tell you who it is because they will-."

He suddenly falls onto his back, his foot catching in the pile of forgotten blankets on the floor. Jade strides over and peers down at him unfazed and unamused.

"They will do what Mark," she hisses.

Mark just lays there and nervously laughs. The thick tension is soon cut by an unexpected sound.

"I'll bloody kill him that's what," Darius drawls. 

His arms crossed while leaning against the door frame. I only now realize that he and Farris have moved without me even noticing. I feel my eyes widen with awe as Jade turns her gaze to Darius, his face stony and grim. A smile spreads across her face as she tips her head back and laughs. A full throaty sound that makes her red curls bounce against her chest. She laughs so hard that her eyes become red with tears to our immense shock. In all my years I have never seen her react in any other way to being woken up besides immense and unbridled anger. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding," Mark says, his eyes now wide with shock and irritation.

"Anyone else she'd threaten them within an inch of their life, but him oh she just laughs as if he made the funniest joke in the world."

"Relax my friend," Farris drawls as he claps Mark's shoulder and helps him off the floor.

The golden hue of his eyes sparking with mischief as he steers Mark towards the open door. 

"Besides, if it makes you feel better I know where all the peepholes are in the room."

The room went silent for a second time, the girls and I now boring holes into their backs.

"Did he just say what I think he just said?" Gemma says, her blond brows raised in question.

"I think he did indeed," I reply, my warm bed now forgotten as I bring myself to my feet.

Cala, Gemma, Lark, Jade, and I slowly form a loose semi circle around Farris and Mark. The room is now so quiet you could hear the wind pass through the cracks in the wall.

"Get him," I drawl. 

Those two words jolt them into action like rushing water that just broke through a demolished damn. Lark lunges first, her body crashing into Faris and pinning him to the ground. Mark falls flat on his back for the third time, and lies there forgotten as the girls start whacking Farris with heavy down pillows. Calmly I walk around the mass of pillows and arms, then slowly sidle up beside Daruis who can't stop his chuckles from the new found entertainment. 

"Damn you Farris," Lark growls, "how many times do we have to tell you to quit burning peepholes in the wall."

"Probably a hundred," Jade replies as she smacks Farris on the head with her slipper.

"Ow!" Farris grunts, "knock it off woman, right sarden now!"

His fist connects with the floor as he yells, the impact unexpectedly sending a fireball from his hand through the roof. A moment later a loud boom sounds from outside. Mark rushes up from the floor and into the hall, to gaze outside the soot covered window. 

"By the gods Farris, you just knocked the top off Old Man Ven's chimney," Mark says with wonder.

"What in the frozen high waters is going on!" the unmistakable voice of Miss Cole screams.

"Oh now you've done it," Cala chuckles.

"Nevermind that," I cut in, "we need to get a jump start on the job anyway, hopefully that will calm the Hell Cat."

They all nod their heads in agreement, then everyone rushes off in different directions and rooms. We hurriedly throw on clothes and shoes, while grabbing our work sacks filled with necessities for later. In an almost blurred frenzy, I stuff my jacket pockets with the essentials. Fresh ammo and gunpowder goes first, the packets from yesterday wet and sopping from my unexpected swim in the harbor.

 Freshly sharpened metal disks follow, along with special small sacks of colored powder and I also add my trusty collection of daggers, pistol, and grappling hook. Methodically, I pull my brass goggles around my neck and leave them to dangle at the hollow of my throat.

When I'm done I take stock of the others, Gemma and Jade clad in black cotton dresses with belts holding their own lethal disks. Their gray leather jackets, reaching down to their knees. Cala and Lark drip with black leather, their jackets, boots, and pants shining like oil. Their arms and legs armed with knives hidden inside brass studded sheaths. The iron of Cala's chakram shines silver in the weak candle light, as she clips it to her belt and then flips her hood over her shaven head.

"Ok we got the supplies," Farris says breathlessly from the hall.

Two large grain sacks weigh him down, his night clothes exchanged for brown pants and a shirt. The hem of his brown leather jacket brushing the tops of his leather boots. The outlines of knife sheaths under his clothes are unmistakable.

"Yea, we got enough stuff to make that nosy lieutenant run for the hills," Mark chimes in with Darius in tow. 

Both of them now decked in gear similar to Farris, except Mark has on his signature blue silk shirt and Darius's jacket is an uneverving blood red.

"Are you sure that we have everything I asked for?" I drawl as I step into the hall and reach for one of the sacks.

"Of course I do," Farris replies hotly before slapping away my curious fingers.

"I've got heavy duty rope, two sets of acrobatic silks, work shoes, a bundle of old clothes, pepper flakes, ink, and a pound of sleeping powder that I hope that we don't have to use."

"Is that all," Lark whines as she pokes her head out into the hall with a pout on her face.

"No," Farris huffs while rolling his eyes.

"But I'm not gonna tell you what else is in here cause you are too trigger happy."

He says with finalty, his stare challenging Lark to object. She pouts even more and then kicks the wall while mumbling about never getting to have fun.

"Hey guys wait for me," Cora yells before nearly knocking me to the floor as she barrels down the hall.

"Oops sorry Tara," she giggles.

Her cheeks darkening with a slight blush as she straightens her short braided hair, gray leather jacket, and purple dress. Self consciously she brushes her braids away from her face, the wooden beads clacking together.

"No worries," I reply, clambering up from the floor.

Clapping my hand on her shoulder I steer her down the stairs with our friends hot on our heels. We hurry down, our steps light and quick on the boards. Just when my foot touches the hall floor I hear someone scream, "Watch out!"

I throw Cala and myself to the floor, as the rough blade of a cleaver sails over my head and into the wall. The metal sinks into the scarred wood with a sickening thunk. 

"Ok that was close," I say with a shaky breath.

"Now grab your partner and run," I growl while pulling Cora and myself up from the floor.

Turning on my heel I race down the dim hall and out the side door. My breath clouding in front of me as I sprint down the alley and into the congested street. The sound of the Coal Inn's doors and shutters thumping open is music to my ears. Drivers and dogs yell at me as I dodge and duck under carts, people, and baskets. The brown scarf and jacket warning them to move aside or be mowed down. 

My boots splash through the muddy water, drops of muck staining my worn skirt that is now no more than rags tied together with string. While my thick leggings are still warm and intact. When I come up on a narrow side street I skid to a stop and place myself against the wall of a rundown bookshop.

My ears catch the sound of heavy running feet, my blood hums as I stick out my foot and trip their owner. Darius goes sprawling face first onto the crooked stone street, his jacket falling across the back of his head. 

"Have I taught you nothing Darius," I scold as I walk over to his fallen form.

"You must always be alert, anything can happen at any given moment so you need to be prepared."

"Hmph," Darius grunts as he stands up.

"Next time could you at least give me a warning," he says while straightening his jacket lapels.

"How about this?" I reply while tossing him a small cloth bundle.

His eyes flare with delight as he opens it up. Weak morning light shines on the set of iron knuckles, the tops of the metal rings sparking from the obsidian coating. Jace's finest work and worth all the trouble of blackmailing the prince for the sharp black rock.

"Woah," Darius gasps, his long fingers running along the lethal obsidian.

"Woah is correct," I drawl, "now come on we need to pick up those wigs that Jade asked for."

"All right," he replies as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.

We set off at a brisk pace, people giving us a wide berth as we make our way towards the Market Quarter.

"So any casualties," I ask him as we hide behind a cart of firewood.

Peering over the top, I watch as a group of rouge Blades swagger past. The rowdy bunch drunk and bumbling down the street, and of all things singing the Valdevian wedding march. Hopefully one of Miss Cole's enforcers will escort them back to wherever they came from.

"No dead bodies yet," Darius replies as he brings out a small black book and charcoal pencil.

"But Miss Cole broke her record for how many languages she can curse in," he adds while marking in the book.

"Well that sounds lovely," I drawl, "but we've got a job to do, so her record breaking will have to wait."

Moving from behind the cart, we continue our trek down the street. My hands shake slightly as I tie my scarf around my head to hide my silver strands of hair. Darius pulls his hood over his head and I follow suit, our journey soon taking us over the stone canals filled with rushing murky water. 

We zip through the Blade territory, our path winding through back alleys, over fences, and twice we had to hide in the sweltering heat of a wash house. I don't dare to cross paths with any Blades after last night, and I doubt that Rex will let me get away with it.

Finally, we end up at a street lined with white plaster and stone buildings. The place where the Iron and Market Quarters meet, and where gang territory ends. When we cross we have to rely on ourselves and our friends alone. No gang allies can protect us here, this is the Silver Guard's domain where you follow their rules or suffer the consequences.

I beeline for one of the shops, it's side door marked with a faint outline of a sparrow. Like ghosts we make our way across the street and through the door. Closing the door, we make our way to the supply room. The curtains part for us as we step into the room, the shelves bowing under the weight of clothes, shoes, hats, and wigs.

A small glass table rests in the middle of the room. A simple green box is laid out on the clear surface. Small images of bird feathers decorating the top. 

"First task of the day is done," I drawl.

My hands carefully lift the box from the table. Catching Darius's eye I turn on my heel and head back to the side door.

"Now for the rest," Darius replies with unbridled glee.