“Shame. Maybe a drink then, for old times’ sake.”
“Sure.”
Favian walked out to the corridor, then paused with his hand on the door handle. “Unlikely the Gallinule will be heading to Bulov. Just so you know.”
A wave of despair washed over Silas. It might just be easier to kill myself.
11
Mara followed Favian through the quiet alleyways, the sun only just starting to light up the sky. It was the earliest Mara had seen Favian. Favian usually didn’t come back to their room until the sun came up, and then he’d go to sleep for a few hours.
Favian coughed more this morning than Mara had ever noticed before. He kept making sounds like something was stuck in his throat, then spit out phlegm. Serves him right for smoking all the time.
Favian stopped ahead and bent forward with his hands on his knees and coughed hard, then made sounds like he was going to puke. He coughed a blob of phlegm onto the floor, stared at it for a while, then carried on walking. As Mara passed the blob, he could see red swirls in the yellowy-brown slime. He’s sick, really sick. Mara stared at the back of Favian’s head. I hope you’re sick forever.
Favian said he had a special surprise for him before they left. A treat. Mara
didn’t want anything from Favian, not even anything nice. All he wanted was for Favian to be out of his life. He didn’t care if Favian died or not, just as long as Mara didn’t have to be anywhere near him.
The man with the crooked smile leant against the door of an old wooden building that looked like it might fall down soon.
“Well, look who it is. Alright there, squirt?” The man flashed his crooked smile at Mara.
“Are they on their way?” Favian asked the man.
“Yes, boss. She ain’t happy about it neither on all accounts.” The man opened the door and stepped aside.
“What part of you thinks I care?” Favian walked through the door.
As Mara followed, the man with the crooked smile shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.
Mara smiled. Everyone hates him, even his friends.
The building was messy. Broken wood that looked like it had fallen from the ceiling lay scattered across the floor. Everything was covered in dust, and there was a pile of old clothes in one corner that he saw a rat run into.
Favian walked across to the single chair along one wall, sat, lit a roll-up, and pointed at a corner. “Stand over there.”
Mara did so. What is this? Am I going to have to kill someone here? That isn’t a treat. I wonder if the Shadows will come? Or Silas?
“You were supposed to clear this shit up,” Favian said to two hooded men that came through the door.
The men picked up the big bits of wood and threw them to the sides, then kicked the little bits away from the middle. One picked up a nail. “Ouch,” he said, “wouldn’t wanna stand on that.” After clearing up, they leant against the same wall Favian sat along and whispered to each other.
The man with the crooked smile leant through the door. “Here she comes, boss.”
A few seconds later, a figure in a black hood and long cloak came through the door. The hood flicked back to reveal the woman’s dark-skinned, bald head. Luanda.
Luanda’s footsteps clacked as she walked to Favian. “Why bring me to this shit hole? Why not bring your challenge to the arena?”
Another accent Mara hadn’t heard before. Where’s she from?
Favian blew out some smoke. “Calm down, woman.”
The men to Favian’s side smiled. Two more hooded men joined the man with the crooked smile and shut the door behind them.
“I will be fucking calm when you explain yourself,” Luanda said.
“You’re being paid, ain’t you? Ain’t that what you fight for? Or is it for fame? The love of it, perhaps?”