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

lumbered towards the door, tearing the curtain from its hooks. He lunged at her, feathers spewing up in a fountain as he hacked a cushion open, splinters flying as he smashed the counter over with his flailing boot, cloth ripping as he slashed one of the hangings in half.
    Mason gave a bellow like a hurt bull and charged at her once more. Javre caught his wrist as the knife blade flashed towards her, big vein popping from her arm as she held it, straining, the trembling point just a finger’s width from her forehead.
    ‘Got you now!’ Mason sprayed spit through his clenched teeth as he caught Javre by her thick neck, forced her back a step—
    She snatched the big Prayer Bell from the shelf and smashed him over the head with it, the almighty clang so loud it rattled the teeth in Shev’s head. Javre hit him again, twisting free of his clutching hand, and he gave a groan and dropped to his knees, blood pouring down his face. Javre raised her arm high and smashed him onto his back, bell breaking from handle and clattering away into the corner, the ringing echoes gradually fading.
    Javre looked up at Crandall, her face all spotted with Mason’s blood. ‘Did you hear that?’ She raised her red brows. ‘Time for you to pray.’
    ‘Oh, hell,’ croaked Crandall. He let the hatchet clatter to the boards and held his open palms up high. ‘Now look here,’ he stammered out, ‘I’m Horald’s son. Horald the Finger!’
    Javre shrugged as she stepped over Mason’s body. ‘I am new in town. One name strikes me no harder than another.’
    ‘My father runs things here! He gives the orders!’
    Javre grinned as she stepped over Big-Coat’s corpse. ‘He does not give me orders.’
    ‘He’ll pay you! More money than you can count!’
    Javre poked Pock-Face’s fallen knife aside with the toe of her boot. ‘I do not want it. I have simple tastes.’
    Crandall’s voice grew shriller as he shrank away from her. ‘If you hurt me, he’ll catch up to you!’
    Javre shrugged again as she took another step. ‘We can hope so. It would be his last mistake.’
    ‘Just … please!’ Crandall cringed. ‘Please! I’m begging you!’
    ‘It really is not me you have to beg,’ said Javre, nodding over his shoulder.
    Shev whistled and Crandall turned around, surprised. He looked even more surprised when she buried the blade of Mason’s hatchet in his forehead with a sharp crack.
    ‘Bwurgh,’ he said, tongue hanging out, then he toppled backwards, his limp hand catching the stand and knocking it and the tin bowl flying, showering hot coals across the wall.
    ‘Shit,’ said Shev as flames shot up the flimsy hangings. She grabbed the water jug but its meagre contents made scarcely any difference. Fire had already spread to the next curtain, shreds of burning ash fluttering down.
    ‘Best vacate the premises,’ said Javre, and she took Shev under the arm with a grip that was not to be resisted and marched her smartly out through the door, leaving four dead men scattered about the burning room.
    The one who’d had his hands in his pockets was leaning against the wall in the street, clutching at his own knife stuck in his thigh.
    ‘Wait—’ he said as Javre caught him by the collar, and with a flick of her wrist sent him reeling across the street to crash head first into a wall.
    Severard was running up, staring at the building, flames already licking around the doorframe. Javre caught him and guided him away. ‘Nothing to be done. Bad choice of décor in a place with naked flames.’ As if to underscore the point, the window shattered, fire gouting into the street, and Severard ducked with his hands over his head.
    ‘What the hell happened?’ he moaned.
    ‘Went bad,’ whispered Shev, clutching at her side. ‘Went bad.’
    ‘You call that bad?’ Javre scraped the dirty red hair out of her battered face and grinned at the ruin of Shev’s hopes as though it looked a good enough day’s work to her. ‘I say it could have