Breaking the Shelter of the King

[Due Machiavelli]

The night was dark and late. This time of the year it was raining often and everything looked like wet, black glass. This brother, this mirror image seated on the ground, did not mind the rain and the way it was starting to soak through the knee of his pants where he was crouching. It did not bother him that when the wind hit it felt cold against his skin. They were stationed between two brick walls that looked so old they appeared rusted and slouching. Everything int he Widow's Spoon, even the new stuff, always seemed to look old. Two men with him were likewise crouched behind him in the alleyway, watching the latern light from the front of the building poor like small pools of gold on the ground.

"It's almost time," the brother side over his shoulder in a gravel whisper to the other two, whose faces were twisted up in expressions which said that they disliked what they were doing. Either the weather or the act itself, but mostly the weather. The smell of wet trash was starting to float in behind them. They were goonish sort of men with large arms, set jaws and one of them looked like his nose had seriously been broken one time. That one had been a boxer once.

The wind brushed down the alley way, kicking up a discarded bottle that gave a hard sounding roll down the alleyway behind them. A cat was picking through the trash somewhere and when it ran down the alley it through one quick shadow back at them.

"All right girls, stick together." the teacher spoke and conducted herself like a mother goose. Her arms were outstretched as though they alone could corral the children back into her. The girls with the coats pulled them in tighter and fought to keep their hair dry as grin as a few of them giggled at the forboding intrusion of the rain and how it made the teacher worry. One jumped in a puddle which made a few of the others whine at her for having done it.

"Great! Now my socks are wet!"

"Girls settle down! We are almost there," The teacher always walked them to the drop off point at the docks where the parents would gather them after their nightly classes. It helped the men without wives work another job to pay the bills. The girls were old enough now that they weren't scared to be without their parents and some even threw fits when it was time to go home. The brother was posed and then, when the teacher had locked the door behind her and taken the group five paces he and the men sprung upon them.

One of the girls was suppose to be the harbor Master's Daughter.

[Jennet Shorditch]

Jennet was leaning in the doorway of the Rogue, watching the rain tumble down onto the high tide lapping at her tavern, when a panicked voice from the waterline caught her attention.

"Miss'n Jen! Miss'n Jen, y'gotta come quick!"

Her head snapped down to where she could just make out young Nate, clinging to the edge of the porch as the sea's current gently washed him against the weathered wood. Heedless of the rain, she stepped forward, dropping to her knees to haul the boy out and drag him inside. Through the taproom and behind the bar they went, where she settled him fast in front of the kitchen fire, wrapped up in a blanket, with orders to Mary to fetch a cup of hot ale.

"No, Miss'n Jen, y'gotta go," the boy was moaning even as he shivered. "Harbor master's bin whacked, they got his girlie!"

"They what?" Jennet turned slowly on her heel to crouch down beside the shivering boy. "Tell me what's happened. Slowly."

Nate sniffed, wiping a drop of water from the end of his nose as he began his little tale. "Them as works for 'em, they was waitin' outside th' schoolroom, an' the teach, she brought 'em out, an' they was jumped, an' three of 'em's gone, miss."

"Which three?

"Rosie Fairclough, what does her ma's washin', an' Matty Grey, an' harbor master's girl, her what has th' fancy name, miss."

Jennet frowned, rising to her feet as she stepped away from the boy, allowing her sister to step in close and make sure he didn't catch a cold or something worse from his excursion. The Brothers had done it, then; they'd managed to get hold of Elise McCormick. And unless her father did as he was told, that little girl was as good as dead.

Unless ...

"Bor!"

After a moment, the surly-browed barkeep stuck his head in through the door, eyeing Jennet with vague concern. She didn't give him a chance to speak, waving a hand to dismiss his questioning look.

"I'm going out for a while," she told him, overriding the protests of all her staff with one sharp look. "You lot are going to get a fight started. Bad enough to get the Watch down here, and keep them here until I get back."

She snagged her cloak from the hook by the back door, pulling the waxed wool tight around herself. For insurance, an interesting number of bladed weapons were also busily concealed about her person. She hadn't walked into the Hive in years, not since she herself had been held in attempted ransom against her father's independent mien. But the Brothers wouldn't dare to hurt her - after all, the whole town would know who had done it.

"A big fight, remember," she told her sister and staff. "I'll be back. I promise."

[Due Machiavelli]

The lantern at the front of the Hive was on, burning a bright yellow through the rain. Generally speaking the place was not heavily patrolled, most didn't dare to sneak into it but given recent circumstances, one of the Brother's lackey's was at the front door, a sleek trenchcoat-like garb hanging off his shoulders. The man looked more foreboding than fierce. He had thought that after scooping up the girls that his duties for the night would be done with. Standing in the rain like this he felt his boots sink comfortably into the mud. His thick jaw line was set and his eyes, which seemed small under his brow, moved through the walls of rain and mud as he waited.

The Brothers were either expecting someone, the light outside the metal face of a two story warehouse did not welcome but warn the oncoming company. Once the harbor master had heard of what had happened he'd gone to the tavern to find Jennet-- only to learn that she had already left for the Hive.

"She's gawn!?" He said, his face pale and wet, long with high cheekbones and a whisp of a white haired beard on his chin. His hands were harsh to hold, they had been raked with salt and sea over the years, "Are you sure?"

"Yea," said Nate, still hugging the blanket around himself tightly and looking to the door, "Miss Jen has gone to the Hive."

The Harbor Master tightened his rain slicks close and rushed out the door, trying to catch up with Jennet before she could reach the Hive without tumbling in the mud. The ocean was so close that the rain sometimes tasted like salt and smelled like sea weed and barnacles. He didn't want negotiations about his daughter to exclude him, he didn't want a debate to go poorly and lose his daughter. Most of all, he didn't want Jennet to get in the middle of what was between him and the Brothers. The Harbor Master was dim in realizing that he was a casuality in issues between the Brothers and Jennet instead of the other way around. His mind could not keep himself clearly contained. What would happen to them?

Inside the Hive a Brother was standing on the entry floor, dry and looking over a clipboard of papers with some irritation. The man that helped with inventory wrote so poorly it was becoming questionable if he was all together literate. Some people just needed to be fired, but they would find a use for them still. The sound of rain on the roof made a roar that bounced inside the walls at night in this den. It sounded the same way when someone pushed open the large metal door. He pressed his quill to the page, making a signature and then handing it off to another goon. There were about ten people in the Hive at this hour, others were employed to others places or simply were at home. The Brother looked at the metal staircase that lead up to their office before moving to sit at the bottom most step.

The Harbor Master was expected, after all. He propped his elbows up on his knees, his dark eyes watching the door, seeing the silhouette of his man waiting impatiently as the rain poured on. It would surprise him if the man did not show up tonight, most didn't dally when a kidnapping was involved. They would wait a day if there was no contact, after that her body would be the message.

[Jennet Shorditch]

The walk to the Hive in the pouring rain had done nothing for Jennet's temper. Worse was the fact that she genuinely had no idea what she was going to do when she got there. It had been a spur of the moment decision, to walk straight into the lion's den, but she'd neglected to bring anything as collateral. She didn't even have anything on her to bribe the Brothers with. And that was assuming that their hired thugs would even let her in.

And now, of course, her way was barred. The door stood open, invitingly so, but unfortunately it was also guarded by one of the brawn-over-brains idiots that the Brothers seemed to like so well. He stood impassively in front of her, not seeming to mind the rivulets of water that were streaming down his face, just staring into the shadow of her hood as she glared up at him.

"Are y'deaf as well as stupid?" she demanded of him, deliberately pitching her voice loud enough that it would carry inside to whomever was waiting there. Any of the higher ranks of the Hive would know who she was, that she was counting on. "Get out o' m'way, an' I won' stick ya like th' bag o' hot air y'are!"

Nothing. Not a flicker passed over the man's face. Jennet sighed violently, resisting the urge to throw up her hands and just push past. She knew instinctively that if she tried to gain entry, the best result would be looking the sodden mud full in the face. the worst? Well, a broken neck wasn't out of the question. She couldn't risk injury, not now. What she'd set in action before leaving the Rogue had to be played out, if only to show the Brothers that she didn't stand alone whenever she squared up to them.

And besides that ... there were the missing girls to consider. She wasn't certain that Rosie Fairclough and Matilda Grey hadn't just used the cover of the attack to run home as fast as they could, but Elise McCormick, now she was a different matter altogether. The harbor master's daughter, whose safety had already been threatened and was now missing. She was the reason Jennet had risked this journey tonight. She had to be returned, safe and well, or the Rogue was going to be standing on dodgy ground from here on in.

Frowning up at the guard who still blocked her way, she rolled her eyes, flinching as a large raindrop caught the end of her nose. "Alrigh'," she conceded finally. "Get summat t'call one o'those brothers out 'ere, since m'so scary an' dangerous. But m'not leavin' until m'heard out, y'hear?"

[Due Machiavelli]

Under his broad nose int he rain of the evening the man smiled down at her, but there was no kindness to it. He reached for the metal door and gave it a shove. The metal yawned in a violent way, loud even though it was raining and people inside were moving about. His this eyebrows were like a hood, dropping over his eyes as he bowed his head and spoke, "You're expected."

Upon entering, there did not seem to be on the whole a great greeting for her. Some of the others stopped what they did to look at her uncertainly and, seeing that there was no overall worried reaction, hesitantly returned to whatever it is they were doing. Surely if she were uninvited there would have been some bigger commotion or say so. These men looked different than the one at the door. Thinner, more like the flexible weaselly types that side with whoever it is that could give them the biggest hurting.

He was at the bottom most step, taking a draw from his rolled tobacco. The cherry of it, lighting up like the only bright red in the place. He let the smoke fall out of his lips and evaporate up. How nice, the arching expression. He knew to expect her. She knew he was waiting and now there they were, him staring at her from his seat at the bottom step and her, still wet from her march over here.

"I take it then that you've come to make an offer?" His expression asked her if she'd come here to finally buckle. Well, for the sake of the little girls, would she?

The harbor master was almost to the outside of the Hive. The man outside would not be giving him the snarky invitation to enter as he had for Jennet.

[Jennet Shorditch]

Water dripped from the waxed wool of Jennet's cloak as she drew back her hood, folding the dark material back over her shoulders as if to invite an inspection for weapons. Weapons that she knew she had, and that he would probably never even suspect were there. After all, Jennet Shorditch was not known to bloody her hands, was she?

"Let me see 'em, b'fore we go further," she said bluntly. "I ain't bargainin' for summat wi'out knowin' if'n they're still alive, or even if'n they're still here. An' y'd think me a fool if'n I did."

And Jennet was no fool. She'd kept the Hive at arm's length for over a year now, by wit and cunning and outright bravura. Her presence here tonight was utterly out of character, and with that, she knew she had the advantage. They couldn't have expected her to enter the lion's den - her first unpredictable action. What else was she capable of that these iniquitous brothers could not imagine?

[Due Machiavelli]

The Brother sharpened his gaze on her and then tilted his head to the side, "Why see her? You have doubts it was us that took her? That hardly seems likely." The rolled tobacco was close to his hands, the ember's heat was starting to prickle against his skin and he dropped it on the ground, not even rising to stand but slid his foot across the ground to rub its light into nothing.

"If I don't allow you to see her and I dispatch her, I'll probably still get what I want. Merchants and fishermen have families that they aren't willing to risk for the sake of their livelihood. Or you. What you are doing here is damage control."

He rose to his feet, jamming his hands into the pockets of his long, dark overcoat, "Though I suppose if people become too afraid to do business here that that does hurt my intentions. the whole point of this was to gain control of the harbor. To take it from you, anyway." There was the jerk of his head to signal her to follow him. He turned around and began ascending the staircase, speaking over his shoulder to her, "Well if you want to see that the little girl is all right... this way."

[Jennet Shorditch]

"Why see 'er?" Jennet's expression was all manner of telling as she looked the Brother up and down, just the faintest flicker in her eyes attesting to a past event that she, by order of her own father, had never mentioned aloud. But the Brothers knew, certainly. "I ain't askin' t' see her, m'sayin' I'll see all three of 'em b'fore I set t'talkin'. M'no' makin' th' same mistakes that were made years ago, love."

She had a plan, albeit a hastily arranged one, that relied heavily on the Brothers' desire to return to their former position of power. With the Rogue had come certain advantages to her father that he had never made anything of. Jennet, however, knew exactly what she was going to do with one of those advantages, if given the chance. And she had the added security of knowing that if she didn't return to her tavern by daybreak, Bor would bully and harrass the Watchmen who would have arrived to break up their staged fight into coming to the Hive to find her.

"You'n me both know there's no way t'get what y'really want wi'out my help," she reminded the dark-clad man sitting in front of her, arms crossing beneath her breasts as she gazed steadily down at him. "An' aye, given the choice, y'd get nothin' from me. But I'll not leave others to endure what I was made t' in this infernal place, an' that, my darlin', is wha' makes me strong. Folks like t' know tha' Jennet'll walk int' fire for 'em. Makes them strong, an' all."

She didn't hesitate when the Brother rose to ascend the stairs, picking up her skirts to follow without a second glance. She knew enough of them to know that exits would have been changed since the last time she was here, the last time she had occasion to tease information out of some of their more reluctant following. And if blood was shed, she wouldn't be getting out at all.

But she wasn't her father. As much as she had adored him, her father had been a weak man, easily swayed by threats, easily intimidated by a vague show of force. Jennet was made of sterner stuff; indeed, the Brothers had, in a way, made their own worst enemy when they had entered her young life more than five years ago.

[Due MachiaveIli]

He stayed in shadow watching as his other half seemed to cater to this brazen woman. Was she so foolish as to think herself immune to them? Here in their world? It was both amusing and aggravating in equal measure.

Only his half kept him from stepping into light and slitting her throat for the sheer pleasure of seeing all that crimson wash over her. The thrill of it hot and sticky on hands and in scent.

But he refrained and remained silent and ever watching. A shadow of his other half, for now. Soon time would come when the halves would switch stance.. and it would be his other half who watched from shadow and enjoyed the spectacle that was Him. In full force of that beautiful madness.

They where opposites and yet so alike. It was in that spark of life when time began that they where divided in body, but never in soul. He had never wondered why neither of them had good in them, only relished that he held that madness. That thirst for darkness. While his other half held the coldness, that analytical mind bent on their mutual goal of domination.

In that goal, and perhaps some might say brotherly love, their bond remained unbroken. Unbreakable. There where simply whole..

[Due Machiavelli]

"You can see the one, not all three." It was stated as if there were no further arguing with him. His voice was calm and solid, like setting a large stone in the center of the table. It wasn't to be moved. She was here to negotiate for one and only one.

Somewhere in the dark lurked the other brother. He didn't have to see him to know.

At the top of the stairs he unlocked the door, his hand on the knob so his arm barred her way in. Inside was the the girl, tied up in a chair with the back of it to the desk. It was just difficult doing paperwork when someone was watching you, was all, so he had oriented her chair to face away from him. The time in his life where the tears in her eyes would have bothered him was past. The rise and fall of the Hive in the past had taught him one thing-- he had hesitated too much, had shown too much patience. There was a whole new brutality in town just like there was a whole new sheriff. The town's dynamic was changing.

His arm never dropped that she might go through the door to the girl, instead he clipped the door shut quickly and turned so his back was to the door and he faced her. The tobacco still woven into the fabric of his clothes as his eyes measured her up.

"So, the harbor master's daughter is there, for now, and obviously still alive. What have you come to bargain with then?"

She might have been right. So long as she had those books he wasn't getting things done as he wanted. What he could live with, though, was the blood of the little girls on his hands. History said his intentions weren't spineless. Could Jennet do that? And if the little girl died just how many of her followers would remain followers, then? An absent thought in the back of his mind said that if he shoved her down the staircase, she might die and then all that was left was finding the book and using it. No, a thread of his mind stayed his hands. Jennet wasn't as easy to get rid of as all that. If she died she'd become a martyr, it might worsen the situation.

Speaking of which, the guard at the door was shouting in, "The Harbor Master is here. He's insisting on seeing you and Jennet."

"Tell him he's a waste of my time." Then his gaze dropped down to the woman and he made a false, friendly smile, "But Jennet may see him. I'm sure she wants to update him on all her fantastic progress." He leaned into her, his voice a soft whisper in her ear, "Will he still love and follow you if his little girl's body is found on the street? Willl anyone trust you anymore?" And then he leaned away, arms crossed over his chest and his upper back leaned against the face of the shut door. The little girl was seeming like her death would be the answer to many of his problems.

[Jennet Shorditch]

Jennet wasn't stupid enough to let the sudden wrench of fear and concern for the little girl tied up and weeping even flicker in her eyes. She knew that one moment of showing those emotions would seal the child's fate, and possibly even her own. Nor did she make any move to comfort the little girl, simply stepping back impassively as the brother closed the door. Her eyes returned to his soulless face, calm, emotionless in her own way.

What did she have? She still had a card or two to play; he hadn't backed her into a corner yet. Hiding the clench of her fists in the folds of her skirt, she drew in a slow breath as she answered him.

"Y'know m'no' so foolish as t' come here wi'out a guarantee o' safety," she reminded the brother in a voice that was just this side of monotone. "If y'think I am, then y'll be sorely tested. I've brought nothin' wi' me, as y'know. But there's orders left behind me that'll make all this worth nothin'. A waste o' y'time. Are three wee lasses worth losin' those books o' yours to fire?"

Her gaze was steady as she held his in her painfully honest trap. She had him, she was fairly confident of that. An uprising by the people he and his brother terrorised would do more damage than all her interfering could ever hope to, and she was more than capable of spreading the word that the Brothers had killed three innocent children in order to try and get their hands on books that would, in time, give them even more power. News like that would spread like wildfire through the Widows Spoon. Thuggery and smugness could not hope to stand against fury and numbers.

The news that the harbor master had come almost, almost, made her groan, a complication she could do without. But again, the brother had made a fatal mistake in his assessment of her character if he thought she would blink or look away just to comfort a foolish man who had no idea of what was happening here.

"Let 'im go wi'out seein' anyone," she suggested to the brother, never once breaking that calm steady gaze. "We have business t' discuss, an' emotion don't help that sort o' thing. Y'want y'book in return fer the girls - all three o' them. Then y' bring them t' the docks, under the merchants' pier, low tide after midnight. When they're safe wi' their parents ..." She paused, this concession clearly costing her something painful even to vocalise. "Then y'kin have yer book. I'll hand it t' y'personal. But only if'n all three are safe and unhurt."

[Due Machiavelli]

"You're a mighty brave little bird," the Brother said, lighting up another hand rolled cigarette. His eyes narrowed on her as if to test the strength of her face and then he blew smoke from his nostrils, much like the grey plumes that come from the face of an oriental dragon. Eyes wide, wild with thought. He wet his lips and then continued, "Anything else you should tell me I must do at my house? I don't advise you do all this commanding of me, it makes me rather want to cut a tongue out." He took one step toward her. Either she would stay her ground and be at uncomfortably close proximity to him or she would have to take a step back and down. If she weren't careful, a stumble down.

"Ms. Shorditch, you should know you don't have much of a leg to stand on with us," a draw of his cigarette and his eyes went to her, "Negotiations from another side are underway and our roots may be spanning that of many miles. Can you use those books as leverage for much longer? They're a convenience we'd like... but you're going to have to do better if you plan on still winning this game."

The Brothers were betting on the fear of the town. Once they had almost completely dominated every aspect of this spit-speck of a city. Once it had been heavily laden with their influence but there had been an interruption. But Corren and Topaz were gone now, miles away and not showing any promise of return. Amazing how when they left they didn't even write to their oh so beloved Brothers. It rained on the ashes of what they had and now they were molding it like clay into a new face. They were of the belief that since they had reigned before, they could do it again. Perhaps more easily than the first time because the city had a history of accepting their rule, they already feared them for what they knew they could do. Jennet stood like a leader for them and the more he thought on it the more he wondered if they wouldn't just scatter like sheep without her.

For all her strength she was fairly standing alone. It was a chance to be rid of her before she built up alliances. One of the Brother's feet were trying to slid over her's to prevent the next step. They were on the precipice, so much work to be done but this adamant obstacle remained.

"We'll see you at low tide, you better hope you have the weight of something worthwhile on you." She was starting to look better in a coffin than in a dress. He waved his hand at the staircase that she should leave. His chuckle crawled the floor, "Careful, little sparrow, you're walking on glass with us." There had been blood on his hands before and rumors flew enough that she knew them to be violent. While she was leaving he wasn't watching her, though, his eyes went to the shadow where a lean figure of great similarity to his own was watching. He was staring at him, the expression was almost blank, as if a conversation was silently being held between them.

Outside the harbor master shuddered in the rain, determined to wait with her because he had to know. he had to speak with someone about what was going to happen next.

[Due MachiaveIli]

Like looking in a mirror the two stared. Eyes locked, thoughts combined. A slow wolfish grin spread across his face in understanding. Disappointed that there would be no blood this night, he was game for a bit of fun though.

A faint nod given as the shadow of him moved passed his mirror. Shoulders brushed in passing as he entered the room where the other two birds waiting, weeping and hanging onto each other as if the connection could some how ward off what was to come.

He stepped into the light before them, their eyes huge. Such innocence would soon be squashed as their lives would now unfold. They would pay for the wench's interference.

"Such pretty little girls," he murmured softly as a hand raised to the bright copper red of the one girls hair. She tempted him to be kept, trained. Like a bird of old under his harsh hand. A shame really that his brother had other plans. The dark haired one would fetch a nice price as her blue eyes swam in tears. There was a bud of beauty about her. "Come, I will see you get home.. "

He smiled as the weeping girls sniffled and followed like lambs to slaughter. They assumed home meant their own brightly lit houses with warm beds and the love of their parents.. He allowed them the delusion so as to keep them moving along.

Out the back where a enclosed carriage waited, they thought nothing less of the bars upon windows, the enclosed padding that kept them quiet. Eagerly they stepped in and into their new lives as the men inside quickly subdued and silenced them for the journey.

"They will arrive unharmed and intact. If i find you've sampled the wares along the way.. " he paused long enough to let the threat hang in the air.. "I will take the loss of profit from your hides and the hides of all you hold dear.. "

He stepped back giving himself the pleasure of looking at those guileless eyes now stark with fear as it dawned on the girls that their "Home" was no longer to be so bright, so warm, or so loved.

Yes they would indeed fetch a nice profit, their innocence sold to the highest bidder. In such a maneuver as to bring home the point to one Tavern Keeper that there was a price to be paid when she dared to step into the lions den. The price often in blood. It would also see to keeping the town folk on edge and even less inclined to help her gain ground for fear of loosing their own to the Brothers.

As to the parents of the now missing girls? Unable to take their anger out where it belonged, the blame would fall on Jennets head as well. Had she simply complied the girls would be ensconced in their beds.

He chuckled softly as he watch the carriage be swallowed by the dark and rain. The guards riding along would see the carriage made its destination safely and without fuss. They still had the blonde to deal in. The night was still young, perhaps there would still be blood.

He would be there, at that meet, the ever constant shadow, hidden along with a good mob of his men to ensure the trade went off without hitch.