Covenant's End by Ari Marmell Page A

“juice” of various garbage heaps, groaned and whimpered a trio of disreputable men who would all live—assuming none of their injuries grew too badly infected—but would probably never walk normally again.
    She hadn't meant for it to go this way. Once night had again fallen and she'd succeeded in locating a roving gang she recognized as Finders, the plan had been for Widdershins to tail them, observe all she could about the new behaviors of the Guild, hopefully eavesdrop enough to learn some of what was going on in the halls of underground power.
    Said plan had survived exactly as long as it took the robbers to find their first victims. When it became clear that the young couple's money was not all the gang was after, that they wouldn't be content without bloodshed or even worse, Shins hadn't been able to stand by.
    The result, thanks to the element of surprise and Olgun's power, had been three mangled Finders and three healthy people—the couple and the fourth man of what had been a quartet of brigands—fleeing into the night.
    â€œWasn't an accident,” Shins explained to her curious partner, shifting along the ledge in a futile effort to find a spot where she could still observe the wounded below yet wasn't soaking her backside in a puddle. “I wanted him to get away.
    â€œOh, I did so! Why would I make up—what?! Right, like I'm going to lie to make you think better of me. You already know I mess up a lot, so why…wait, that's not what I…oh, horsebubbles.”
    After a few moments, when the tiny deity finally stopped laughing, Shins continued. “ As I was saying,” she growled, “I don't think he got a good look at me. He just knows someone turned his friends into a hedgehog's bedsheets. Since these guys aren't really inany good shape to talk to me, and they probably don't know much anyway, I figure, let their friend come back with someone more important and less, um, bleedy.
    â€œAnd don't even think of trying to tell me that's not a real word, either. You don't talk. You don't get a say in how words work.”
    This continued for some time, punctuated by the moans from below. Shins was just in the process of actually defining the word “word” for Olgun's edification when he abruptly alerted her to someone's approach.
    â€œAll right. If you'd be so kind?”
    The night grew brighter, the sounds sharper. She could hear them clearly, now, the slap of boots, the dull thump of sheathed blades against hips and thighs. “Heh. Guess they're coming prepared. I wonder how many people he said it took to flatten his team?”
    Olgun snickered.
    The gang finally reached the alleyway, led by the man who'd escaped earlier. Shins got ten at a quick head count, more than she really wanted to take on even with Olgun's help. More to the point, though, she also recognized one of those heads: bald as a snake's bottom, sitting atop a leather-clad body built more like a bear or a gorilla than a man.
    â€œWell, well. Taskmaster Remy Privott, himself. I guess not all the gods are annoyed with me yet.”
    She merely sniffed, then, at her own god's response, which translated roughly to Give them time .
    It really was a stroke of luck, though. Second only to the Shrouded Lord—or the woman who'd taken his place, presuming Lisette hadn't drastically rearranged the Finders’ hierarchy—the Taskmaster would be privy to nearly everything happening within the Guild. She just needed the opportunity to ask the right questions….
    She grinned, wide and vicious, as a thought occurred. “Your ears are still better than mine,” she whispered. “Are there any Guard or house patrols nearby?”
    Considering how many she'd seen the prior night, she'd have been surprised if he told her there weren't.
    She was not surprised.
    â€œAll right. Wait for it…”
    At Remy's gruff instruction, several of the Finders moved deep into niches