had placed his hopes, though, on that segment of the population that made its living after the sun went down.
His thieves came first to Godstone Square, as they had before-alone, mostly. Some expressed quiet support for Malden’s scheme, while others, Tock the foremost among them, had come because they expected it to fail and they wanted to see Malden destroyed. Lockjaw and ’Levenfingers came and stood quite close to the Godstone. Whether they believed in what Malden was about to do or not, they owed Loophole that much. Slag, like all dwarves, was at his most awake after dark, when the sun didn’t burn his eyes. He showed up late, however, and grinned in apology to Malden-then held up ink-stained fingers to explain his tardiness.
Velmont moved pantherish through the crowd of thieves, looking for any sign of treachery. Malden had no doubt he found much, but for the nonce at least the knives stayed concealed.
The thieves were not alone for long. Coming in groups of six or ten for safety, the harlots of Ness arrived with some fanfare, the madams leading their girls in cheers of solidarity. Elody cheered the loudest, but Malden was pleased to find that Herwig had brought every working woman she could find. The House of Sighs must have closed its doors for the night, for the first time in living memory.
They were not the last to arrive. Malden’s agents had gone deep into the Stink, even to the poorest neighborhoods where thieves weren’t any safer than rich merchants. They had pounded on doors and called out the news in ringing shouts. He had expected a few graybeards and old women to heed the call. He was surprised to see a goodly number of cripples, the sick, and even matronly women who should have known better. Soon the square was so full the crowd spilled out into the surrounding streets, and window shutters flew open as the local residents looked to see what all the clamor was for.
Malden wasn’t ready to start, however. Not until Pritchard Hood arrived.
For much of an hour he waited, standing atop the Godstone just as when he’d addressed his guild, back when Ness had seemed a sane and safe place for a good-natured thief. He said nothing to the gathered folk, other than to welcome them and greet those he knew. He gave them no encouragement. What he was about to do was a solemn act, not the antics of a clown at a harvest season fair. Though never much of a believer himself, Malden was acquainted with the way the old priests of the Bloodgod had acquitted themselves. They had taken their rites most seriously, and he intended to do the same.
When Pritchard Hood did finally arrive, along with six of his burliest watchmen, they shoved their way through the crowd until they stood directly beneath the Godstone. Malden was intrigued to see that the watchmen carried not their usual polearms but mallets and picks. Interesting. It seemed Hood had a demonstration of his own to make.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Malden,” Hood shouted up at him. “This place has been ritually defiled. There’s nothing sacred about this piece of rock.”
Malden smiled down at the man. “You think Sadu cared when the priests of your Lady washed this stone with vinegar and sang their little songs over it? Do you think He even noticed?”
“I think He trembled in His pit,” Hood replied, looking around him. “I think He knew that His time was past, and that the age of the Lady had come.”
“Ah, but your sort always think that gods can be cast aside when they’re no longer wanted.” Malden looked around the crowd. He saw the rapt faces, the strange calm in their eyes. “When it’s politically convenient.” He made his voice boom out over the crowd so all could hear. He only wished he could do this in the daylight, so people could see better. Loophole would hang at dawn, though, so he had very little time to spare.
“True believers know that gods do not die,” he went on. “Sadu’s children have not forgotten Him. Here, in Ness, we’ve always been guaranteed our right to worship whatever god we choose. Even if it’s not in the Free City’s charter, every Burgrave has upheld the freedom of each man to choose his own god. You seem to disagree with that liberty.”
“There is only one goddess who can save Skrae now. What exactly do you expect Sadu to do for you tonight?” Hood demanded. “What are you going to ask Him for? To crack open the earth so the walls of the gaol fall and your old thief can run away? I’ll just catch him again. Maybe you wish Sadu to send demons to aid you.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Demonology was the province of sorcerers, and no one trusted them. If that was Malden’s aim, he was about to lose any support he might have hoped for.
Luckily he had something else in mind. “I beseech the Bloodgod for one thing only. The only thing he ever promised to us: justice, for every man and woman. And I offer him his chosen sacrifice in exchange.”
He unsheathed his belt knife and, quick enough that he didn’t even wince, slashed open the skin of his left palm. He showed the wound to the gathered people, then clenched his hand several times to make the blood flow.
“For you, Sadu!” he cried, and then bent low so he could slap his bloody hand against the surface of the Godstone. Blood dripped down its face, dark in the moonlight so all could see.
For a moment not one person in all of Godstone Square breathed.
Pritchard Hood broke the silence by laughing. “Malden, you’ve undone yourself! You know blood sacrifice is illegal in Skrae, and has been for a hundred years. You know perfectly well that anyone making sacrifice to this stone is subject to penalty of death.”
Malden glanced at the mallets and picks the watchmen held. “Come and catch me then, thief-taker,” he said.
Had Pritchard Hood brought a ladder and climbed up to bring Malden down, Malden would have been utterly lost. Had he sent an archer to the rooftops overlooking the square, Malden would have been slain on the spot.
Instead, Hood decided to catch two birds with one snare. “You’ve given me a wonderful excuse to do something no Burgrave or bailiff has ever had the courage to do before. I thank you, Malden! You six-take it down.”
One of the watchmen lifted his mallet and brought it down hard on the face of the ancient stone. Cracks appeared on the surface of the Godstone and fragments of its substance fell away. Time and weather had made it fragile, and it would not take long before the watchmen toppled it and broke it into rubble.
At least, if no one stopped them.
Pritchard Hood had made a grave miscalculation. The Lady, it was taught, put every man in his station by Her sacred decree. Those who prospered in this life owed Her their allegiance, for She was the giver of all wealth and bounty. The kings of Skrae and all their nobles, every rich merchant and guildmaster in the kingdom, every legally sanctioned priest, all worshipped the Lady and disdained the rites of the Bloodgod. They had repressed-savagely- the worship of Sadu. They had fought wars against His faithful. But they had never quite wiped out the old faith.
The poor, the dispossessed, the outcasts of society never forgot Sadu’s name. They would never let it be forgotten.
When word of the barbarian invasion reached Ness, all the rich citizenry had fled. All the merchants were gone, all the petty nobles and courtiers, all the hierarchs of the Lady’s church had left the city to its fate.
The ones who stayed behind had done so because they couldn’t afford to leave. The same people who were Sadu’s children. The true faithful, the ones who remembered the old ways, were the people who filled Godstone Square that night.
Before the watchman could swing again and break the stone, the pure fury of the pit was unleashed.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
An old fishwife with a face like a rotten parsnip threw herself in front of the Godstone and defied the watchman to strike through her bones. He hesitated a moment, just long enough for Pritchard Hood to grab her and pull her away. She clawed at his eyes and he could do nothing but hold her at arm’s length.
The crowd shouted then, voices blending together: “He’s killing her!”
“He’s manhandling that poor woman!”
“Let her go!”
“Disperse,” Hood said, still struggling with the fishwife. “Damn you-let go of me. You-all of you. Disperse! Go back to your homes.”
The crowd took a step in, toward the stone.
