Quickfish smiles at her. ‘Hello again, little Icecaller.’
She grins up at him, and excavates her nose in search of something promising.
Icecaller ruffles her hair. ‘So, solved any mysteries? Made any plans? Anyone actually got off their arse to help yet? Or has it all just been hot air?’
The room shakes to a thunderous crack and another cheer goes up. A block of stone is split in two. Kinghammer flexes, turns, pushes the pulse of the mountain.
Roofkeeper winces. ‘Not really. It’s been good to just stop moving for a while. Catch our breath, get our thoughts …’
‘Have some sex,’ she interjects, sniggering.
Roofkeeper lets his fingers run through Quickfish’s hair. ‘Maybe there was some of that. Not up to Thell standards, I’m sure.’
‘We’re a mountain of hot cunts,’ Icecaller agrees, nodding amiably.
Quickfish reaches out, tucks Nigh’s tunic hems. Amazingly, he’s left with all his fingers. ‘I don’t know what I thought, originally. Perhaps that we could send some aid to Hesper. Some help for my father. Or that Skinpainter would cook up some way of bringing my mother back, neat and easy. But there’s more going on than that, isn’t there? We’re running out of time.’
Icecaller blinks, tearing her eyes away from his surviving digits. Nigh has cooried up happily against him, her fingers picking at the buttons of his shirt. She presses her lips together, no point sugarcoating it. ‘That’s the truth. Word is, Crowkisser’s on the march. Chasing after your pretty little bones has set her eyes square on Thell. And we’re split up the crack trying to decide how to deal with her. We don’t fight so well away from the mountain.’ She runs fingers through her hair. ‘My head sweats at the thought of fighting here though. Which is what we’ll end up doing if Skinpainter decides to help your drowsy mum.’ She picks dirt out of a nail and looks at both of them with a flat stare. ‘This isn’t going to be a safe place for you for much longer. And I think Skinpainter’s got bigger fish to fry than just your mother.’
She sees his face fall, and raises a hand. ‘I don’t mean to becruel, but we need to get the crow-witch away from our gates before we can start cleaning up her mess.’
Surprising herself, she reaches out, and catches his wrist. ‘You know that no one’severcome back from having their name torn out, right? Not when the witch has done it personally. Painter told me it’s different to whatever she did down in the south. More brutal, less planned.’
Quickfish’s face wavers, and she sees him fighting the tears. When he bites them back, her heart gets a little bit warmer towards him.
‘I’m not quite ready to give up on her yet.’
She smiles sadly. ‘I understand, but you’re really going to be in danger if you stay here. If we march out to bloody her nose, we can’t protect you. And if she catches you here, you’ll be trapped inside with the rest of us. Win or lose.’
Quickfish nods, ‘I know, I know. We’ve been thinking on it.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘And?’
‘We don’t want to stay in the mountain,’ He looks at Roofkeeper.
Roofkeeper mimes with his fingers. ‘We want to go beyond it. To the spires. To see if the stories are true. If the magic does linger there. In case Skinpainter can’t …’
Another crash, another cheer. The bench bows alarmingly as her father bulls his way through and sits next to her, all sweat and steel.
She raises a finger at Roofkeeper. ‘Hold that thought.’ Turns to her dad. ‘Hello. You smell like shit.’
He grins, drapes an arm around her. ‘Take a good whiff, dearest.’
A slim young man brings drinks and Kinghammer swallows deep. ‘Making friends, Quickfish’? He jabs a finger at Nigh, who is snoring contentedly in the crook of an arm.
Quickfish grins. ‘Guess I am. Always been good with kids.’
Kinghammer wipes foam from his lip. ‘Teach me your secrets.’ He looks at Icecaller. ‘Travel back in time and teach me your secrets.’
Quickfish laughs. ‘I’m not really the person to ask.’
Kinghammer sips, eyes him over the rim. ‘From what I’ve heard, if anyone’s the expert on difficult fathers, it’s you.’
Quickfish shrugs. ‘Dad’s not difficult so long as he’s in motion.’ He shoots a glance at Icecaller, and she hides a smile behind her hand.
Kinghammer pops his knuckles one by one. ‘Is he surviving down there in Hesper? I was down there once or twice after the war. Before the south. It’s a nest. A big nest that was rich on southern trade.’ Another sip, a raised eyebrow that mirrors his daughter. ‘What’s to trade now the south is gone?’
Quickfish taps his fingers thoughtfully. ‘More than you’d think. We get a lot in from the Midlands. Grain and hedge-trade. Charcoal for the forges, wood, feather, artefacts. Had fish and spice and stone from Astic before it …’ He wiggles his fingers expressively, takes a drink, sucks his teeth. Roofkeeper’s toes nudge his under the table. He taps back reassuringly.
