Chapter 174 The Night of Hooks

Crown's voice crackled through the clinic radio, calm as a surgeon reading out a list of bad news. Twelve Guild halls were struck between midnight and dawn, forty-one masks cut, not a single Hunter was killed.

"Every strike landed while the Collector stood in his shop, so he has hands we have not met," she said.

"The Pins, they are small enough to slip through a keyhole," Zinnia said, pulling on her gloves.

"He sent us to dinner so the needles could work."

Calla's voice dropped from the ceiling vent, "The thread in their stitching hums at the same pitch as his shop."

Ganzo seized his hammer from the coat stand, shaking the whole clinic under his thundering stride. He jabbed a thick finger at the map by the door, tapping the red harbor twice.

"The Whales' dock hall is bleeding worst, Zinnia and Calla ride with me," he called.

Zinnia tucked her notebook into her belt, "My plan says we finish by lunch, my plan is an optimist."

"The training halls on Brass Row hold children, so I will take those."

"Then take the Steelhorn too, a hammer needs somebody to hit things that move."

Night rain still clung to the slates as Nilo and Bruno sprinted along the ridgelines of Brass Row. Below them the small Guild halls stood in a line, each door wide open, each lantern knocked dark.

"Chat, I have drones on every roof, the needles travel in little packs of nine," Pipa whispered through his earpiece.

'Nine needles, twelve halls. That is a lot of tiny hands.'

Bruno vaulted a chimney with a grunt, landing on the wet tiles like a falling anvil. He kept pace beside Nilo, his horned mask pushed up, breathing hard but never once slowing.

"A Steelhorn does not trail a thief across rooftops, but in this one case I permit it," he said.

"Permission noted, try to land quieter, you are cracking the shingles."

Bruno leapt the next gap with a thud that shook the roof, "I shall land as softly as the Steelhorn name allows."

The Brass Finch Academy lay at the end of the row, its courtyard crowded with children in Tin masks. Nine needle dolls crawled over them, snipping at the leather straps with silver shears no longer than a finger.

"Please make them stop, they only want the shiny ones," a girl whispered, clutching her mask.

"Everyone keep to the circle, nobody run," her teacher said, his voice shaking.

Jingles began a pun about sewing kits, then fell completely silent halfway through the second word. Cold Read settled over Nilo like thin frost, the patter draining slowly out of his voice.

"Stay quiet, little bell," he murmured to the rack.

He dropped into the middle of the courtyard, landing between the children and the nearest silent doll. Bruno hit the gravel behind him with a crash that scattered a dozen needles like startled birds.

Nilo crouched in front of the girl, "Keep your mask on, I promise I will keep it on for you."

"Put them down, they are not yours."

The nearest Pin turned its stitched face slowly toward him, shears clicking once in the gloom. He flicked the bandolier without hurry, Rattle's mask sliding over his features in under a second.

Rattle's rasp rang from the rack, "Oh, sweet thing, are we finally doing the shiny part?"

Tin plating crawled across his shoulders, a coat of bottle caps rattling down to his knees. Magnet Pull rippled out from his palm, dragging every needle in the courtyard straight toward him.

[ SKILL USED ]

[Rattle: Magnet Pull]

[Targets: nine needle dolls]

"Sweet thing, you have a whole sewing kit stuck to your front, I love it," Rattle said cheerfully.

He closed his fist, crushing the pile of dolls into a ball of twisted silver wire. A final blade clipped a strap, but he caught the little Tin mask before it fell.

"Here, hold on to this one tighter," he told the boy, pressing it into small hands.

Bruno rolled his shoulders, staring at the crushed wire ball with a faint but obvious disappointment. He swung his hammer once through the cold falling rain, just to feel its familiar weight.

"I wished to hit something, Nilo, you have monopolized the entire enemy," he complained.

"There are eleven more halls, pick one and be the hero."

'Eleven halls, one Collector, he is somewhere cutting a ribbon. We are losing this morning.'

The children crept out of their circle slowly, touching their masks as if to check them. One small boy stared up at Rattle's rusted crest, then saluted just like a proper captain.

"Mister Rattle, will you come back and be our teacher?" the boy asked.

"Sweet thing, I only collect, but I will leave a bell on your doorstep," Rattle said, tipping his crest.

The headmistress stumbled out of the doorway with her cheek bleeding from a freshly clipped braid. She pointed down the row with a trembling finger, her eyes as wide as dinner saucers.

"They took the senior masks from the cellar vault, the Bronze ones," she said, "the little men carried them out in a line, singing."

"Singing what?"

"A lullaby, it was a lullaby."

Jingles went rigid on the rack, the crack in his porcelain face flickering a frantic gold. His voice came out smaller than ever, like a lost child asking the dark for company.

The rack trembled with his whisper, "I know that song... it plays when they hang the last hook, please do not ask me how."

'A lullaby for the last hook. Whatever that means, it is aimed at something big.'

A single Pin darted from the cellar door, dragging a sack of stolen masks across the wet gravel. Bruno's hammer came down so hard that the courtyard bounced, leaving a dent shaped exactly like a doll.

"Hah, I was saving that one, the Steelhorn blood does not forget," he said, polishing the head on his sleeve.

The sack split open on the ground, spilling nine dented senior masks across the wet stones in a clattering heap. A name was stitched in silver thread inside every brow, each one waiting for a Seat to call it home.

"Magpie will get these to their owners before lunch," Nilo said quietly, scooping them into his coat.

"Oh, hon, returning things is my favorite kind of stealing," Magpie purred from the rack.

Zinnia's voice cut through the radio, "The docks are clear, the dolls fled singing... Captain Wavecrest lost eleven masks and has gone very quiet."

Across the rooftops a drone chirped twice in his ear, Pipa's cheerful narration breaking off mid-word. When she spoke again she sounded like a young girl reading a name off a gravestone.

"Chat, I am looking at the Rhino Hall right now, and every single lantern is out," she said.

Bruno stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard, the color draining out of his face at once. His hammer slid from his open hand and rang against the gravel, loud as a dropped brass bell.

"Bruno, look at me, the children are safe now, we go together," Nilo said, already moving.

"My father sleeps in that hall on Council nights, he is not answering his—"

"Then we run, right now."