Arm of the Sphinx by Josiah Bancroft

Author:Josiah Bancroft
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2017-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

The origin of a myth is like that of a river. It begins in obscurity as a collection of tentative, unassociated flows. It streams downhill along the path of least resistance, seeking consensus. Other fables join it, and the myth broadens and sets. We build cities on the banks of myth.

—The Myth of the Sphinx: A Historical Analysis by Saavedra

Edith lay on the quarterdeck, a rapier jutting from her bloody back, her arms thrown out in an attitude of mortal surprise. Black smoke streamed and scattered in the wind.

Tricorne askew on his head, Senlin slouched against the ship’s console with his hands in his lap as if he were begging. Blood pooled in his cupped palms.

A rifle slug gouged the board by Edith’s hip.

The wind stroked her hair against her turned cheek.

She did not stir.

In months past, they had been careful to keep to the big, open theater of blue sky over the Valley of Babel. The traffic was thinner there, the visibility wider, and the winds tamer. It was not safe to sail close to the Tower, and it only grew more treacherous the higher one climbed. Frigates flying under the colors of powerful ringdoms patrolled the shipping lanes. Suspected pirates were not boarded and arrested; they were shot down. Airpower aside, the upper ports were so stoutly fortified, they resembled citadels, their guns so numerous, they stood together like the teeth of a comb.

And yet it was through these contentious lanes and past these menacing forts that the Stone Cloud now rose, unpiloted, undefended, turning like a cinder rising from a fire. The envelope was a whiffling malformation of rags. The hull was so ravaged it resembled a carved bird.

A shadow slipped across the deck. The passing galleon stirred the air with long, tapered wings that moved as languidly as oars. The handsome, three-decked warship was enrobed in gold leaf and green silk. Half of the thirty gun ports stood open. The noses of cannons protruded from the dark of the gun deck. A rifleman, bored by his commander’s decision not to waste a barrage on a harmless ghost ship, reloaded his gun and took aim again at a corpse on the quarterdeck.

His second shot thudded into the wood by Edith’s hand.

“Steady,” Senlin murmured.

Edith opened one eye. The sword, which seemed to skewer her back, only pierced her shirt and the deck near her ribs. The black smoke came from oily rags burning in kitchen pots that they had placed surreptitiously about the ship. The blood had been Voleta’s idea: juice from the beet jar. The smell of it was driving Edith mad. She’d been lying in pickle juice for half an hour, and still they weren’t out of the woods.

They had passed a dozen forts and twice as many gunships, but this was the first that had bothered to fire on them. She wondered what sort of rogue shot at corpses. It took all of her self-restraint not to jump up and return fire.

At first, she

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.