Free Poison by Chris Wooding

getting old, you know. Every year I go back in there, I take a gamble with swamp lung or black rot or any of the other things a man can catch in that place. Every year the odds get a little worse.”
    He looked over at Poison, and his eyes were tender and wistful beneath the brim of his hat. “A place of my own, in the mountains where the grass grows and there’s nobody around for miles. That’s a risk worth taking.”
    Poison could hear the yearning in his voice. She was always good at reading people, and Bram wore his heart on his sleeve anyway. Now she realized the true weight of their relationship so far. He had known all along that the coins she carried in her pack were enough to make him a rich man, enough that he could live the rest of his life in wealth and comfort. He could have simply taken them off her at any point; she was defenceless against a man his size. But he was a man who believed in earning what he gained, and so here he was, taking her into the darkest alleys of Shieldtown because he had made a deal with her. Even faced with the greatest of temptation, he was no thief.
    However, the man who jumped up next to her was.
    She yelped in surprise, but he was quick. She had not even seen him slip from the shadows of a cross-alley and duck alongside the wheels of the cart. In one smooth motion, he had vaulted up on the bench alongside Poison, and before she had time to react, she felt the cold steel of a blade at her throat.
    â€œGet away from her, you –” Bram blustered, letting go of the grint’s reins and reaching for his club. The grint ambled to a halt.
    â€œAh! Ah!” the man cried, pressing the knife harder so that Poison’s head was forced back. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. I’ll give her a bloody smile.”
    Her violet eyes were wide with terror, her heart thundering in her ears. She was paralysed, both in body and mind, panic taking her in an ambush. For a few seconds that seemed like minutes, she could do nothing but suck in shuddering breaths and try to lean herself away from the cruel edge that pressed mercilessly into her skin.
    Another man clambered up alongside Bram, putting a blade to his ribs. “You behave now,” he said. “Wouldn’t want your little girl getting hurt.”
    â€œTake the cart!” Bram said, clearly as scared as Poison was. “Take the cart and the grint. Don’t hurt us. Just take it.”
    The first thief leaned over Poison to lift up the tarpaulin and look in the back. She could smell his sour breath on her face. There was hardly anything there; just a few unsold jars with wraiths humming inside and their packs and travel supplies. Poison’s pack, of course, had her money in; but she did not even think of that then. All she could think of was the story of the prince and the tigers, and Fleet’s face in the firelight as he recounted it.
    â€œWhat do we want with a grint and a cart?” he sneered. “Got anything in those packs? Maybe we won’t cut your throats if you’ve got something worth taking.”
    â€œYes! Yes, just don’t hurt us,” Bram said without hesitation.
    â€œI’ll say who gets hurt here,” the thief hissed.
    â€œYou’ll. . .” Poison began, and as soon as the noise had left her lips she regretted it and stopped. But it was too late. The thief turned his attention on to her.
    â€œI’ll what ?” he snarled.
    She had started now. To retreat would be a weakness she could not afford. “You’ll be the ones who get hurt,” she said.
    â€œReally?” the thief leered, pressing closer to her. “And who’s going to hurt us? You?”
    She was set on her course now, and she had to follow it through. “Lamprey,” she said.
    The thief was not fast enough to hide the flicker of fear in his eyes, nor did Poison miss the way he withdrew his knife for a moment.
    â€œNever heard of him,”