to grips with in those few brief seconds of explosive mayhem, just looked stunned.
She felt the anger cool; not disappear, but no longer irresistible. "I didn't start this," she reminded them, "but I will finish it if you want me to; shouldn't take long. One or two of you might even live to talk about it. Or we can stop fighting here and now and all walk away." Those who still can , she thought but didn't add.
The Fangs exchanged glances and seemed to reach a silent consensus. The one with the injured side slowly lowered his sword, knives were dropped and there was an obvious slump in all of them as they relaxed a little; the droop of resignation, of defeat. Kat stood straight and dipped her own blades. She didn't sheath them – wouldn't until they were cleaned, but she no longer menaced the gang members with them.
"If you Fangs want to stake out some turf around here, that's fine by me," she told them, "but there are a few things you need to learn if you want to keep hold of it." There might be a new order in the Under-City, but she intended to see that a few things stayed the same. "The first is that you leave the Tattooed Men alone. Let them pass where and when they want without interference – you don't trouble them, they won't trouble you. The second is that you don't ever, ever mess with their Death Queens.
"You got that?"
She watched their eyes widen as her meaning sunk in. They'd seen her with a Tattooed Man for Thaiss's sake and yet it still hadn't occurred to the stupid breckers who she was. They'd just taken her for a cocky girl with a sword. That was the problem with reputations – everyone expected her to be older and bigger. At least they would recognise her next time, she felt certain of that much.
Two of the Fangs nodded, acknowledging her words. None of them seemed keen to meet her gaze.
SIX
Tom had never seen anywhere quite like the Four Spoke Inn. He'd been to a few taverns in the City Below and could see the resemblance, but he was also acutely aware of the differences. This was like some younger and more vibrant cousin to the under-City's dingy drinking dens. It was bigger, brighter, airier, and somehow more welcoming than any tavern he'd experienced before. Even the seats and tables looked more comfortable, as if the furnishings had room to breathe here, which sounded ridiculous but it was how the place struck him.
The only uncomfortable aspect was fleetingly provided by the man standing station at the bar, who stared at their party in apparent horror as they entered, for all the world as if he'd just seen a ghost; or three in this instance, Kohn having remained outside. The man recovered quickly enough, however, and introduced himself as Seth Bryant, the inn's landlord. He soon had the three of them seated with flagons of ale – liberally watered in Tom's case – and bowls of hearty stew standing on the table before them.
Seth even took the presence of Kohn in his stride. "We've had the odd Kayjele stay over before," he explained, "on their way to and from the northern mountains and Thaiburley. He'll have to sleep in the barn, though – the inn doesn't have rooms big enough for folk his size."
Tom found himself quickly warming to this Seth, who had a ready smile and was proving a jovial and attentive host. Dewar seemed considerably less enamoured, as if he too had noted the landlord's initial reaction and wasn't about to dismiss the expression so readily.
The tap room began to fill up as the evening progressed. Mildra vanished at some point. Tom initially assumed she had retired to her room, but learned from Seth that instead she had gone outside to see Kohn. Feeling a little guilty that he hadn't done so himself, Tom followed.
Unused to drinking, he found himself less than fully steady on his feet, despite the watered-down ale.
Night had fallen while they were in the bar; a few stars speckled the sky and a half moon graced
She felt the anger cool; not disappear, but no longer irresistible. "I didn't start this," she reminded them, "but I will finish it if you want me to; shouldn't take long. One or two of you might even live to talk about it. Or we can stop fighting here and now and all walk away." Those who still can , she thought but didn't add.
The Fangs exchanged glances and seemed to reach a silent consensus. The one with the injured side slowly lowered his sword, knives were dropped and there was an obvious slump in all of them as they relaxed a little; the droop of resignation, of defeat. Kat stood straight and dipped her own blades. She didn't sheath them – wouldn't until they were cleaned, but she no longer menaced the gang members with them.
"If you Fangs want to stake out some turf around here, that's fine by me," she told them, "but there are a few things you need to learn if you want to keep hold of it." There might be a new order in the Under-City, but she intended to see that a few things stayed the same. "The first is that you leave the Tattooed Men alone. Let them pass where and when they want without interference – you don't trouble them, they won't trouble you. The second is that you don't ever, ever mess with their Death Queens.
"You got that?"
She watched their eyes widen as her meaning sunk in. They'd seen her with a Tattooed Man for Thaiss's sake and yet it still hadn't occurred to the stupid breckers who she was. They'd just taken her for a cocky girl with a sword. That was the problem with reputations – everyone expected her to be older and bigger. At least they would recognise her next time, she felt certain of that much.
Two of the Fangs nodded, acknowledging her words. None of them seemed keen to meet her gaze.
SIX
Tom had never seen anywhere quite like the Four Spoke Inn. He'd been to a few taverns in the City Below and could see the resemblance, but he was also acutely aware of the differences. This was like some younger and more vibrant cousin to the under-City's dingy drinking dens. It was bigger, brighter, airier, and somehow more welcoming than any tavern he'd experienced before. Even the seats and tables looked more comfortable, as if the furnishings had room to breathe here, which sounded ridiculous but it was how the place struck him.
The only uncomfortable aspect was fleetingly provided by the man standing station at the bar, who stared at their party in apparent horror as they entered, for all the world as if he'd just seen a ghost; or three in this instance, Kohn having remained outside. The man recovered quickly enough, however, and introduced himself as Seth Bryant, the inn's landlord. He soon had the three of them seated with flagons of ale – liberally watered in Tom's case – and bowls of hearty stew standing on the table before them.
Seth even took the presence of Kohn in his stride. "We've had the odd Kayjele stay over before," he explained, "on their way to and from the northern mountains and Thaiburley. He'll have to sleep in the barn, though – the inn doesn't have rooms big enough for folk his size."
Tom found himself quickly warming to this Seth, who had a ready smile and was proving a jovial and attentive host. Dewar seemed considerably less enamoured, as if he too had noted the landlord's initial reaction and wasn't about to dismiss the expression so readily.
The tap room began to fill up as the evening progressed. Mildra vanished at some point. Tom initially assumed she had retired to her room, but learned from Seth that instead she had gone outside to see Kohn. Feeling a little guilty that he hadn't done so himself, Tom followed.
Unused to drinking, he found himself less than fully steady on his feet, despite the watered-down ale.
Night had fallen while they were in the bar; a few stars speckled the sky and a half moon graced
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