“Take my hand and leave me alive?”

The hammer hit him in the nose and caved his face in like a broken egg. His body crumpled, shattered leg jerking, jerking.

“Kill my brother and leave me alive?”

The last blow broke his skull wide open. Black blood bubbled down his purple skin. Friendly let go the wire and Gobba slid sideways. Gently, gracefully almost, he rolled over onto his front, and was still.

Dead. You didn’t have to be an expert to see that. Monza winced as she forced her aching fingers open and the hammer clattered down, its head gleaming red, a clump of hair stuck to one corner.

One dead. Six left.

“Six and one,” she muttered to herself. Friendly stared at her, eyes wide, and she wasn’t sure why.

“What’s it like?” Shivers, watching her from the shadows.

“What?”

“Revenge. Does it feel good?”

Monza wasn’t sure she felt much of anything beyond the pain pulsing through her burned hand and her broken hand, up her legs and through her skull. Benna was still dead, she was still broken. She stood there frowning, and didn’t answer.

“You want me to get rid of this?” Friendly waved an arm at the corpse, a heavy cleaver gleaming in his other hand.

“Make sure he won’t be found.”

Friendly grabbed Gobba’s ankle and started dragging him back towards the anvil, leaving a bloody trail through the sawdust. “Chop him up. Into the sewers. Rats can have him.”

“Better than he deserves.” But Monza felt the slightest bit sick. She needed a smoke. Getting to that time of day. A smoke would settle her nerves. She pulled out a small purse, the one with fifty scales in it, and tossed it to Shivers.

Coins snapped together inside as he caught it. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Right.” He paused, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t think what. “Sorry about your brother.”

She looked at his face in the lamplight. Really looking, trying to guess him out. He knew next to nothing about her or Orso. Next to nothing about anything, at a first glance. But he could fight, she’d seen that. He’d walked into Sajaam’s place alone, and that took courage. A man with courage, with morals, maybe. A man with pride. That meant he might have some loyalty too, if she could get a grip on it. And loyal men were a rare commodity in Styria.

She’d never spent much time alone. Benna had always been beside her. Or behind her, at any rate. “You’re sorry.”

“That’s right. I had a brother.” He started to turn for the door.

“You need more work?” She kept her eyes fixed on his as she came forwards, and while she did it she slid her good hand around behind her back and found the handle of the knife there. He knew her name, and Orso’s, and Sajaam’s, and that was enough to get them all killed ten times over. One way or another, he had to stay.