Burning Night: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 2, Part 2: Tabitha

It took only nineteen more minutes for the train to arrive at Withering Evergreen Station, a feat that took even the Conductor by surprise.

"Never done that before. Emptied a week's worth of coolant to keep the engines running. I'll be lucky if the train actually starts again, but we made it," she said, flustered, as she ushered her only two passengers off the last car. Her fussy ushering was motivated, in part, from the smoke coming from the engine room.

They were using the last car, Tabitha noted, because the poor woman had overshot the station a little. Barely half of the doorway faced the station platform.

Reeves stepped off first, dashing towards a small group of civilians and saluting smartly. "Crafter a'Loria, sir. As requested."

As she followed the messenger, she eyed the four civilians and immediately began reassessing them.

They all openly wore long knives, nearly as long as a soldier's short-sword, and each of them had a large, complex looking crossbow slung over a shoulder. Their attire was either black or ash-grey, and glimmered with the faint gloss that came from being bathed in heat-resistant chemicals.

It took only another moment to feel the pricks of their cold-stone weaponry. Every one of the half-dozen knives each of them carried had a cold-stone core, as well as the crossbow bots. Collectively, the four of them represented nearly two weeks worth of cold-stone weapon manufacturing. A fortune, as the City measures such things.

And judging by the foursome who wore that fortune, it was well spent. Calm, flint-hard expressions on lean, grim faces. The scars of burns lingered on a cheek, on the knuckles. The specks of grey in their hair looked like an accomplishment, rather than fading vigour. None of them were young, and as one of them broke off to approach her while the others spread out a little, Tabitha could see that all of them were experienced with killing.

She also already knew one of them. Agrias Sunbane came to the Council Privy well recommended as someone who could deal with secrets. The woman had always impressed Tabitha as competent and dangerous. Even for a shadow.

"Madam Crafter," the tall one said. His face was half hidden under the shadows of his hat, and he moved with disturbing grace, as if no one else had ever learned how to walk. He stepped forward and offered his hand. "Apologies."

Are you apologizing about your hat?" Tabitha asked, glancing at the faded, fraying hat he wore. "Because it's warranted."

To her surprise, the other three burst into laughter.

"What's wrong with my hat?" their leader asked the other three shadows. His gentle tone and simple phrasing somehow sounded like a convincing threat, and the laughter died to a nervous chuckle.

"Nothing, sir," they replied, though the humour didn't entirely leave their faces.

"Since you're here risking your lives, I'll overlook the insolence," the leader replied. "Once."

"But from you, madam Crafter..." he began, but dropped his stern expression after only a moment, replacing it with a rueful smile.

"From you, I guess I'll just take it. Mathias Aranhall." He said, offering his hand again. "I'll be acting as your shadow, for the evening."

"Tabitha a'Loria." She said, shaking his hand. "So this is your Bureau's hit squad?"

"No. This is the squad I pick when the hit squads fail," Mathias replied, the smile fading from his face. "A detail of nine went inside twenty minutes ago, but most of us are on standby, in case one of our targets goes for one of the distribution lines."