“Very
funny,” Rust said, “I think…” He looked both ways. He stopped, staring off to
the right.
Will followed his gaze to an
alleyway.
“Wanna follow me into there?” Rust
asked, “So we can settle this.”
“I know you’re pyreweavers,” Will
said, “You don’t hide it at all. The red hair, that’s what I’m referring to.”
“I know what you’re fucking referring to.”
To Will’s surprise, it was the girl
that grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him aside. She moved with
considerable speed. As she tossed him into the alley, she singed the back of
his neck with a finger. It felt a little bit like he’d touched a hot pan,
except with the back of his neck for some stupid reason.
“So,” Rust said, “Change of plans.
I’m going to give you a good roasting unless you lead us into Strifepalm
territory and take it to them.”
“Why?” Will asked. He had to admit,
he hadn’t been expecting that.
“We were supposed to be escorts,”
the girl said, “Not tails. You had it all wrong. We were told someone would be
coming by to pick up the briefcase and take it to the K.G. Center. No one told
us there’d be a third party involved. We were just instructed to keep whoever
showed up safe.”
“So,” Rust said, “You can take it
there, or we can beat the shit out of you and do it ourselves.”
“Aren’t you wondering why they
wanted someone else to do it?” Will asked, “They don’t trust you. The Palms
will probably kill you when you get there. They’ll think you did something to
their envoy.”
“Perhaps,” the girl said, “Or you
could just go and make everything simpler.”
“I mean, if you’re not with the
Strifepalms, who are you,” the girl said, “A Bricklayer? A Stiff?”
“No,” Will said, “I’m just Will. And
I’m not going to take this stupid briefcase to the Strifepalms.”
“Then, where, are you taking it?” Rust asked.
“I can’t really tell you that,” Will
said, “Because I was told to lose my tail.”
“Ok” Rust said, “That about does it
then.” He’d been holding his hands down at his sides, but then, he twisted
right palm outwards, enough for Will to see the air above his fingers wavering
with heat, “Second thoughts?”
“Not really,” Will said, “Although I
haven’t tangled with your kind yet.”
“Your
kind?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Will said. He felt a little
outmatched. Rust was probably getting ready to throw a Mario-style fireball.
And Will could feel his body temperature rising. He was sure the girl had had
something to do with it. Her touch had been overwarm. They really intended to
cook him out. Will took off his jacket, and put up his hands, “I wasn’t trying
to be offensive. I haven’t fought pyreweavers before.”
“I’ll try to fight fair,” he said,
“Though against a Slate like you, I’m not sure it could be fair.”
“Slate is like… Being a Chalker,
right?”
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