The Broken God by Gareth Hanrahan (most life changing books .txt) 📗

There, seated in wicker armchairs, are Karla and his mother. Baston blinks, momentarily confused. He knew Karla had moved their mother out of Hog Close for protection, but he’d assumed she had hidden Elshara with some old family contacts, or put her on a train to some outlying town like Maredon. This is something else.

He leans down to kiss his mother’s cheek. She frowns, examining the bruises on his face. “You’ve been in the wars. They’ve sent the Tallows after you.”

“Did the smoke show you that?”

“I cleaned up your father’s wounds often enough,” snaps Elshara. “I don’t need the Smoke Painter to recognise Tallowmen’s work.”

“We’ll name no gods here,” says Silkpurse hastily. “Karla asked me to take care of your mother, after the recent unpleasantness.” Her voice lacks the rough growl common to ghouls.

“Thank you.”

“A pleasure, dearie. To be honest, I’ve been a fan of Elshara for years, so this has been a treat for me! We’ve become such good friends! I’ll fetch you some food. Surface food of course!” Silkpurse scurries off.

“Keep your voice down,” whispers Karla. “Silkpurse is safe enough, but she’s still a ghoul – and close to Eladora Duttin, too. We can’t trust her.”

“You look tired, Bas,” says Elshara. “I wish you could rest here.” He feels tired. He’s been running on adrenaline since the alchemists killed Vyr at the Inn of the Green Door. It’s so tempting to sit here, in this quiet sun-drenched garden, and listen to the distant murmur of the city. There are no Tallowmen here, pressing on the windows, stalking him from the rooftops. The New City seems like a distant and improbable dream. He could close his eyes and forget that Guerdon’s changed.

But he can’t.

“Rasce wants me back soon.”

Elshara drops a lump of sugar into her tea like a bomb. “Bas, I’ve got instructions for you. These come from the master of the Brotherhood, understand?”

“From Heinreil? You’re in touch with him?” Baston snarls.

“Yes, I am.” Elshara stares at her son. “I know how you feel about him, I do. But he’s Brotherhood. He’s on our side.”

“He’s got a plan, Bas,” adds Karla. “A plan to bring the Brotherhood back, as strong as we ever were. Duttin and her lot, they think they’re using him, but he’s using them. He’s the one who made sure you were recruited by Sinter. You’re where the master needs you to be. Heinreil still has connections with the alchemists. We protect their yliaster supply, and they’ll owe us. But we’ve got to act fast, before Rasce makes his move and before the dragon comes back. Imagine what we could do in the Wash, Bas. We go home with all the weapons, all the mercenaries that the dragon’s gold can buy. We retake our streets.” Karla grabs his hand. “We can have it all back. The Eshdana will follow you. You’ve been running things for weeks – they trust you.”

“What about Rasce?”

“He’ll have to go, Bas,” says his mother. “He’s the linchpin. It would have been better if he’d stayed sick, and we could have kept him as a figurehead until it was time to act. But the alchemist, ah—”

“Vorz,” supplies Karla.

“He’s forced our hand.” Elshara frowns. “Your hand, Bas. It has to be you. You can get close to the Ghierdana. Kill him, kill the alchemist.”

Of course Heinreil would use him like this. No matter how he tries to escape it, he’s still the master’s vicious dog, his brute. He can’t build, only break things. He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Heinreil’s got that figured out, too,” says Karla, misunderstanding his reluctance. “He knows how you get a weapon that can overcome Rasce’s powers.”

“It’s not that,” says Elshara, studying her son’s face. “Go on, Bas.”

Baston stares at his hands. Feels the strength in them, the power in them. Hands used to holding a blade, or a gun. Hands drenched in blood. “That night after the first Tallow attack, Karla, after Vyr threw us out – I got an alchemical bomb. I was going to blow up the Ishmeric temple, and me along with it. Rasce saved me. I owe him my life.”

Karla opens her mouth to speak, but Elshara shushes her.

“Do you know why you took that bomb, Bas?” asks Elshara, gently.

“It was a mistake. It doesn’t matter now.”

“It was a choice. I want to know why you made that choice – if you can tell me. Gods know I’ve made plenty of stupid choices in my time, and I couldn’t always explain them to myself afterwards. But other choices… marrying your father for one – those I could explain. Those, I had my reasons. What about you? What was the reason you wanted that bomb?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to fight back,” he says after a long pause. He can’t find the words to describe his thinking on that night. “I wanted to hurt them. I didn’t know how else to do it.”

“When I didn’t know what my next line was on stage,” says Elshara, “I’d call for a prompt, instead of trying to end the whole show. It’s hard, I know. Everything’s changing, with the Godswar so close. It feels like everything’s slipping away, and nothing makes sense. Gods, I know it. Nothing’s been right since… since the Tower of Law burned, maybe. But Heinreil can set it all right again.”

“You want to hurt them, Bas,” echoes Karla. “We can do that. Heinreil can bring the Brotherhood back, too.”

“Heinreil. You’re talking like Heinreil’s going to walk back in the door. He’s in prison, and the only way he’s fucking leaving is in a box. And even if they did spring him – the bastard ruined the Brotherhood! No wonder he’s with Duttin and her lot – they’re all the same. Using us! Lots of talk about what’s necessary and all their clever bloody stratagems, but it’s still us dying on the streets! To hell with all of them!” He’s shouting now, roaring in his family’s faces. Elshara recoils from him.

Karla leaps up. Defiant,