Atalina surprised her with a laugh before replying in a precise, almost sympathetic tone. It reminded Lizanne of those card-players who enjoyed enumerating the mistakes of less expert opponents. “You silly, ignorant bitch. Didn’t it occur to you that the Emperor’s architects might have anticipated this? All the constables have to do is raise one sluice gate and the river will flood the tunnels. You were never getting out of here, and now half my people are dead.” The Electress stepped closer, the smile fading from her lips as her eyes grew bright in anticipation. “So, as I was saying, I don’t need you. And any day I get to kill a Blood-blessed is a good one. It’s thanks to fuckers like you I’m in here.”
“I can silence the cannon,” Lizanne said, raising her voice so the onlooking Furies above could hear. “With the cannon gone the breach will be open, everyone will have a chance to escape.”
She saw the onlookers stir at this, gazes previously filled with grim enjoyment of her imminent demise now lighting with fresh hope.
“The nearest Imperial garrison is less than two days’ march from Scorazin,” Lizanne went on, voice raised even louder. “And you can bet that a messenger will already be galloping towards them with a call for reinforcements. You know what will happen when they get here. Open rebellion cannot be tolerated. Our lives mean nothing, the Emperor can always find more slaves for his mines. We either escape or we die.”
She met the Electress’s gaze, seeing a lust for retribution vie with the career criminal’s ingrained instinct for survival. “You’ve done impressive things in here,” Lizanne told her, lowering her voice. “Think what you could do out there.”
? ? ?
It took over two hours to gather what remained of the gangs and other survivors persuaded or coerced into taking part in this desperate gamble. Chuckling Sim and Varkash had both survived the initial massacre, along with about two-thirds of their affiliated members. King Coal, however, hadn’t been so lucky. By all accounts the Scuttlers’ leader had met his end in surprisingly heroic, if typically enraged, fashion, hurling himself into the advancing line of constables armed only with a half brick. It seemed Kevozan had managed to crush the skulls of no less than three constables before a volley of rifle fire ripped him apart from groin to chest. Lacking an obvious successor, the Scuttlers had fragmented into several loosely organised subgroups. Luckily, they hadn’t required much persuasion before agreeing to lend their strength to the Electress’s proposal. Neither had the Verdigris nor the Wise Fools for that matter, Chuckling Sim and Varkash both displaying a fatalistic awareness of their current predicament.
“We were all on borrowed time from the moment we came through the gate,” Sim said with a shrug before favouring Lizanne with one of his overly florid bows. “I should thank this gracious lady for at least offering a chance to breathe clean air once more, however slender.”
Varkash’s response had been less eloquent, voiced in his nasal twang that now seemed markedly less comical. “A short death is bedder dan a long one.”
The pragmatism of the criminal element, however, was not shared by those of a more political mind-set.
“Corporate whore!” Helina’s left arm was constrained by a sling, but her right was both unharmed and possessed of an impressive strength and swiftness. She flew at Lizanne with knife in hand, obliging her to dodge aside but not before the blade had sliced open the sleeve of her overalls, leaving an inch-long cut on the flesh beneath. The diminutive woman’s fury was such that it took several moments for Demisol and the two other surviving radicals to subdue her.
“Better get a leash on her,” the Electress advised as Helina continued to thrash in her comrades’ grip, spitting expletive-laden invective at Lizanne all the while.
“Lying, profiteering cunt!”
“You must admit she has a point,” Atalina said to Lizanne before stepping forward and driving a meaty fist into Helina’s midriff, which left her retching on the floor.
“Rest assured I share your sentiments,” the Electress said, stepping back to address the radicals as one. “But we have little option but to trust this one.” She nodded at Lizanne with a humourless smile. “Lying cunt though she is.”
Demisol crouched at Helina’s side, gathering her small form into a protective embrace. He shot a hate-filled glare at Lizanne before turning to the Electress. “What do you need from us?”
“A distraction,” Lizanne said. “Do you have any explosives left?”
? ? ?
The Citadel resembled a cake which had been attacked by a greedy giant. Tinkerer’s bomb had carved out a twelve-foot-wide breach in the wall as well as demolishing much of the inner structure all the way to the main gate. Lizanne could just make out the huge barrier through the gloomy crevice, less than three hundred yards away. With the guns still in place it might as well have been a thousand. After their first sally the constables had retreated into a tight perimeter around the base of the citadel, crouching behind rubble piled into a barricade and firing at any inmates who dared show themselves in the streets. The intervening ground was liberally dotted with corpses, victims of the constables’ homicidal frenzy as they beat back the first disorganised rush of would-be escapees.
“Stay close to the Electress,” Lizanne told Tinkerer. “If anyone is likely to make it through the gate alive, it’s her.”
They crouched together in the remains of a house opposite the breach. The building had taken the brunt of the constables’ cannon fire, providing some useful piles of shattered brick for cover. It was late evening now and the shadows were growing long. Torches fluttered atop the barricade and the raised walls flanking the breach. Lizanne watched Tinkerer complete the modifications to the only bomb remaining from the supply she had provided to the Learned Damned. She kept hoping to hear the tumult of confusion heralding the Brotherhood’s assault on the outer keep, but so far there had been no sign of their arrival. She could only conclude the assault had already been launched and the Brotherhood defeated or, for reasons unknown, they hadn’t yet arrived. In either case, it was obvious she couldn’t rely on that particular diversion now.
“To clarify your meaning,” Tinkerer replied, not looking up as his deft hands did their work, “you have calculated your own odds of survival as minimal.”
Lizanne ignored his observation, taking Julesin’s wallet from her pocket and extracting all three vials. “There may be friends of mine waiting on the other side,” she said. “Members of The Co-respondent Brotherhood. Make yourself known to a man of military bearing named Arberus. He’ll be the tallest one among them. He will convey you to my employers.”
“Your tone indicates a suspicion this man may no longer be alive. In which case what course am I to follow?”
“Make your way to an Ironship holding by whatever means necessary. When you do, report to the company offices and tell them you have information for Director Bloskin. Mentioning my name will probably expedite matters.”
“I do not know your name.”
“Lizanne Lethridge.” She concentrated her gaze on the barricade, judging the best angle of attack. “Pleased to meet you.”