Sharp Ends: Stories from the World of The First Law by Joe Abercrombie Read Free Book Online

but as bad luck had it his fist landed right where the wagon had, there was a flash of pain through her guts and straight away she doubled up and puked all down his trousers.
    ‘Oh, that’s it , you fucking little bitch! Hold her.’
    The one with the pocked face caught her left arm, and the one with the stupid coat her right, and stuck his forearm in her throat and pinned her against the wall, both of them grinning like it was a while since they’d had so much fun. Shev could’ve been enjoying herself more as Pock-Face waved his knife in her face, her mouth acrid with sick and her side on fire and her eyes crossed as she stared at the bright point.
    Crandall snapped his fingers at Mason. ‘Give me your axe.’
    Mason puffed his cheeks out. ‘More’n likely it’s that bitch Carcolf behind all this. Nothing Shevedieh could’ve done. We kill her she can’t help us find what we’re after, eh?’
    ‘It’s past business now,’ said Crandall, the little rat-faced nothing, ‘and on to teaching a lesson.’
    ‘What lesson will this teach? And to who?’
    ‘Just give me your fucking axe!’
    Mason didn’t like it, but he made a living doing things he didn’t like. Wasn’t as if this crossed some line. His expression said, I’m real sorry , but he pulled out his hatchet and slapped the polished handle into Crandall’s palm anyway, turning away in disgust.
    Shev twisted like a worm cut in half but could hardly breathe for the pain in her ribs, and the two bastards had her fast. Crandall leaned closer, caught a fistful of her shirt and twisted it. ‘I would say it’s been nice knowing you, but it fucking hasn’t.’
    ‘Try not to spatter me this time, boss,’ said Pock-Face, closing the bulging eye nearest to her so he didn’t get her brains in it.
    Shev gave a stupid whimper, squeezing her eyes shut as Crandall raised the axe.
    So that was it, then, was it? That was her life? A shit one, when you thought about it. A few good moments shared with halfway decent folk. A few small kindnesses done. A few little victories clawed from all those defeats. She’d always supposed the good stuff was coming. The good stuff she’d be given. The good stuff she’d give. Turned out this was all there was.
    ‘It is a long time since I last saw Prayer Bells.’
    Shev opened her eyes again. The red-haired woman she’d dragged into her bed that morning and forgotten all about was standing larger than life in Shev’s smoking room in that ripped leather vest, peering at the bells on the shelf.
    ‘This is a very fine one.’ And she brushed the bronze with her scabbed fingertips. ‘Second Dynasty.’
    ‘Who’s this fucking joker?’ snarled Crandall, weighing the hatchet in his hand.
    Her eyes shifted lazily over to him. Or the one eye Shev could see did, tangled red hair hanging across the other. That hard-boned face was spattered with bruises, the nose cut and swollen and crusted with blood, the lips split and bloated. But she had this look in that one bloodshot eye as it flickered across Crandall and his four thugs, lingered on Mason a moment, then away. An easy contempt. As though she’d taken their whole measure in that single glance, and wasn’t troubled by it one bit.
    ‘I am Javre,’ said the woman Shev found unconscious in her doorway. She had some strange kind of an accent. From up north somewhere, maybe. ‘Lioness of Hoskopp and, far from being a joker, I am in fact often told I have a poor sense of humour. Who put me to bed?’
    Pinned against the wall by three men, the most Shev could do was raise one finger.
    Javre nodded. ‘That was a kindness I will not forget. Do you have my sword?’
    ‘Sword?’ Shev managed to croak, the forearm across her throat easing off as its owner turned to sneer at the new arrival.
    Javre hissed through her teeth. ‘It could be very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. It is forged from the metal of a fallen star.’
    ‘She’s mad,’ said Crandall.
    ‘Fucking