Asteroid Made of Dragons by G. Derek Adams

Author:G. Derek Adams [Adams, G. Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkshares

PROBABLY NOTHING

Down below

the cobblestone,

down below

your feet

a seed

grows darkly. Patient, sure,

slow time

unwinding roots

unbinding rhyme.

We knew.

We didn’t.

You know.

You forget.

Remember then,

remember well.

Green bone

slow time

seed grows

Forever lies.

The Fall

begins here.

The Fall

was always

over.

—Found in the notes of Radd Plateglass, after the sack of Gate City 1179

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

XENON

Xenon was adjacent to drunk. Three drained glasses sat in front of her, housing only tiny slivers of ice and bright-red limes. The Weary Titan’s bartender had offered to clear them, but she had insisted on keeping them lined up in front of her, tiny glass sentinels of shame. The fourth glass was cool in her hand, and she thumped her quill idly on the open page in front of her. It was an ink-spattered morass of attempts, avenues, and aborted ideas, a crosshatched record of her first three days in Gilead:

Temple of the Nameless

—Library on-site restricted to faithful.

Academy Research Library

—Primarily concerned with tactics and strategy, war historicals—nothing esoteric or related to Arkanic civilization.

Knights of the Wand—???

—Message left with Sir Fold, dubious. Said he would add to “incoming reports” and I could follow up in a few days.

Corinth Observations: I refuse to call it “wandering,” which of course is all that Mercury will call it. In between my admittedly weak attempts to find information or aid, we’ve surveyed the city. Corinth is a marvel from an archaeological perspective—so much has happened here, so much history crammed into these few square miles! There are buildings here that predate the Vardeman Accords if I’m not mistaken, and many remnants of the various invasions that the city has suffered. They still have vampire wards from the time of King Alain! I wouldn’t have the heart to tell anyone that the Sarmadi enchantments laid upon them have long since worn off if I was asked, but still it is remarkable to find them so well preserved. I caught a contingent of squires from the Academy scrubbing them down with salt and coriander; I wonder how that odd scrap of lore made its way here? That’s a Dwarven mixture for preserving limestone sculptures, First Mountain sect. Regardless, it has preserved the physical state of the wards admirably, if not their delicate enchantments.

Xenon took a measured sip of her fourth drink, a scarlet hare, as it was known in Gilead. She had known the same drink by other names in other parts of the world: a crimson sundown in Pice, a bloody eyeball in Gate City. Perhaps one day she could devote some study to the ebb and flow of cocktails across the globe, morphing and changing nomenclature and salient ingredients as they met new cultures. The Minotaur Pembleton had bought the first after finding her moping at the bar, and she had bought the next round, a tall mug of ale for him. The next two had been on her own out of pure anxiety and a desire to both further empty her vanishing purse and annoy her phantom mother. The goblin finished reading her latest entry in the journal:

The institutional racism of Gilead is very carefully concealed behind custom and language.

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