Nightside 01 - Something From the Nightside

horse. "Sorry. No carrots."
    "Then get in the carriage and stop wasting my time," said the horse. 'Time is money, in this business, and I've got payments to make."
    "Excuse me," said Joanna, diffidently, "but am I to understand that this ... is your carriage? You're in charge here?"
    "Damn right," said the horse. "Why not? I do all the hard work. Out in all weathers, wearing grooves in my shoulders from this bloody harness. And I know every road, route, and resurfaced bypass in the Nightside, plus a whole bunch of short cuts that aren't on anybody's maps. You name it, and I can get you there, and faster than any damned cab."
    "And the ... gentleman up top?" said Joanna.
    "Old Henry? He's just there to take the fares, make change, and ride shotgun. No-one messes with us, unless they fancy going home with their lungs in a bucket. Handy things, hands. Once I've paid off the bank, I'm thinking about investing in some cybernetic arms. If only so I can scratch my own damned nose. Now are we going to stand around talking all night, for which I charge extra, or are we actually going somewhere?"
    "You know the Fortress?" I said.
    "Oh sure. No problem. Though I think I'll drop you off at the end of the block. Never know when those crazies are going to start shooting again."
    Old Henry grunted loudly in agreement and hefted his blunderbuss. I held open the carriage door for Joanna, and she climbed in, somewhat dazed. I got in after her, slammed the door, and we were off. The seats were red leather, and very comfortable. Not a lot of room, but cosy. It was a smooth ride, which argued for some fairly sophisticated springs somewhere down below.
    "I don't like cabs," I said, just to make conversation while Joanna got her mental breath back. "You never know who they're really working for, or who they're reporting back to. And the drivers always want to talk politics. The few horse and carriage outfits working the Nightside are strictly independent. Horses are stubborn that way. You might have noticed Old Henry doesn't even have any reins; the horse makes all the decisions. Besides, Old Henry probably needs both hands free to handle that massive shooting iron of his."
    "Why does he need a gun?" said Joanna, her voice back to normal.
    "Keeps the other traffic at bay. Not everything that looks like a car is a car. And you never know when the trolls are going to take up carjacking again."
    "I feel a distinct need to change the subject," said Joanna. 'Tell me more about this Suzie Shooter we might be running into at the Fortress. She sounds ... fascinating."
    "Oh, she's all that and more, is Suzie," I said, smiling. "She tracks down runaway villains like a hunter on the trail of big game. There's nowhere they can hide that she won't go after them, no protection so overwhelming that she won't go charging right in, guns blazing. Not the most subtle of people, Suzie, but definitely one of the most determined. No job ever turned down, no target ever too dangerous, if the price is right. Suzie's been known to use every kind
    of gun known to man, as well as a few she's had made up specially, but mostly she favours the pump-action shotgun. You can usually tell where she's been, because it's on fire. And you can track her down by following the kicked-in doors, scattered screaming and blood splashed up the walls. Her presence can start a fight, or stop one dead. Hell of a woman."
    "Were you ever... close? You said you had a history ..."
    "We worked some cases together, but Suzie doesn't let anyone get close. I don't think she knows how. Men have been known to enter her life from time to time, but they usually exit running."
    "Razor Eddie, Shotgun Suzie... you know the most interesting people, John. Don't you know any ordinary people?"
    "Ordinary people don't tend to last long, in the Nightside."
    "Is she likely to be a help, or a hindrance?"
    "Hard to tell," I said honestly. "Suzie's not the easiest of people to work with, especially if you prefer to bring your quarry back alive. Suzie's a killer. She only became a bounty hunter because it provides her with a mostly legal excuse for shooting lots of people."
    "But you like her, don't you? I can hear it in your voice."
    "She's been through a lot. Endured things that would have broken a lesser person. I admire her."
    "Do you trust her?"
    I smiled briefly. "You can't trust anyone here. You should know that by now."
    She nodded. "Razor Eddie."
    "And he's my friend. Mostly."
    We spent the rest of the