A Drink Before We Die: A Low Town Short Read Online Free Page B

the draw, his little fencing sword out with your first blink, and with your second he had tossed himself at Cosgrave—there was real hate there, this wasn't just business. Cosgrave's bodyguard intercepted Armadal's attack, which was an impressive bit of loyalty for a hired blade, though not one for which he'd ever be rewarded. Armadal skewered him through what looked like the spleen, though I couldn't tell for sure. Regardless, he didn't seem to enjoy it, even fell to the ground and wept a little bit.
    Things continued apace. I smoked away the rest of my joint, watching the grim arithmetic by which eighteen thugs became fourteen became ten became four. It was your standard melee, evil men in a darkened room sticking metal into each other, as ugly and brutal and pointless an activity as might be imagined. I did not actually see Armadal go down, my attention must have been elsewhere. At one point he was in a corner defending himself rambunctiously from a pair of Cosgrave's stouts, and then he wasn't, and the world continued on much the same as it had before. You will find that is generally the way of it.
    “A fine job, boys, a fine job,” I said, tossing away my smoke. One of Cosgrave's remaining soldiers, merciful or cruel, was ministering to those of Armadal's side that had only been wounded. “I couldn't have done it better myself.”
    Cosgrave had blood on his hair and light in his eyes. These middle-management types, they get so excited about wetting their weapons, like a priest with his first whore. “I must admit, Warden, you worked it out neatly.”
    “No thanks necessary,” I said, raising my hands and waving them, as if to forestall praise. That wasn't actually what I was doing, but Cosgrave could be forgiven for thinking so. “The beginning of a prosperous relationship for both of us, no doubt.”
    “Yes, about that,” Cosgrave smiled at me, catching his breath and letting his killers catch theirs. “I'm afraid there's been a change of plans.”
    “Really? How so?”
    “As much as we appreciate your assistance in the matter, looking forward, it's hard to see how your continued existence would benefit the Consortium. You're too clever by half, and besides—I have people within my organization to reward.”
    “But Cosgrave!” I said, rubbing one hand against the bristle on my scalp. “We had an agreement! Promises were exchanged! We shook hands!”
    Cosgrave laughed, cleaned his weapon with a bit of rag. “It's a cold world.”
    Coincidence mandated that it was at this exact moment that the door flew open. Outside was the cold, and the dark, and a handful of large, armed, unfriendly looking Valaan.
    “Fucking frigid,” I said. “These are the Five Brothers, and they'd like to introduce you to the rest of the family.”

7
    “I was always pulling for you, Warden, you know that,” the Wind Cock said.
    I drank whiskey and nodded absently.
    “But what could I do, a small-timer like myself? I'm as quick to wield a blade as any man,” emphasizing the point by searching for the hilt of his weapon beneath the table, though his swell of gut meant it took a while before he found it. “But I can't be expected to go up against the entire might of the Ballafleur Consortium, not all by my lonesome!”
    There was no longer any such thing as the Ballafleur Consortium, with their leaders and most of their toughs in the ground. Well, dead at least, I didn't bother to dig any holes. There would be blood on the snow this winter, as the rest of the city fought over their operations, syndicate heavies dropping like flies. By the time the spring buds bloomed we'd be back to the usual uneasy peace , the victors having assumed the choicest cuts of Cosgrave's old empire.
    And Low Town? Low Town would remain mine.
    “Point being,” the Wind Cock said, “I was hoping things would work out this way. I mean, I always figured they would—the Warden, I tell myself, he's just as sharp as a razor, and it's darkest before