Blood and Iron by Elizabeth Bear

Author:Elizabeth Bear
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US

Chapter Fifteen

Matthew was very tired, but his hands hurt even more than his back did, and so he kept on walking. The warning wasn’t the pulling, sweet sharpness that heralded a Seeker, however, so he walked instead of running: boots scuffing on gray pavement past the red neon sign of the movie theater on Forty-second, through the clamor of advertisements, to the crossroads of the world. And isn’t it interesting that we keep coming back here, he thought, remembering Patience.

Times Square barely dimmed in sunlight. Stacked LED screens shone over hustling crowds, traffic a constant chromed shine on Matthew’s left. Enough people to vanish among, a fine thaumaturgic hook to hang a pass-unseen on. He stepped around a bootleg tape dealer and followed his pain.

He spotted his quarry half a block away, loitering but not obviously, a sleek black head rising over the crowd. People turned to look as Murchaud passed, even with a glamourie dulling his unholy beauty. Some of them obviously wondered if they should be recognizing a celebrity.

The Duke of Hell made direct for Matthew, limping only slightly, his face impassive.

Matthew had some idea what it must have cost him to hide his pain in the presence of that much iron. “Come on. Let’s go to the park. Assuming it was me you wished to speak to.”

“Who else would come to investigate?” Murchaud said mildly, and fell into step beside him. “I hope you don’t mind walking.” He gestured rather helplessly at a passing taxi.

Matthew laughed. “I walk a lot. I like my exercise.”

“I can see that.”

Matthew felt the appreciative glance. He deflected it with a turn of his hand. “I’m afraid you’re not my type, Murchaud.”

A chuckle. “How do you know?” Met by silence, and Murchaud took it with equanimity. “I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Do you stand against your brothers because they sent you to Hell, Murchaud?”

“No,” Murchaud answered. “I went to Hell willing, in another’s place. I speak for the Morningstar to Jane Andraste because it amuses the Morningstar to have it so, and he doesn’t think a few tens of hundreds of Magi should go . . . unliaisoned.”

Matthew dragged his hands out of his pockets. It was too much; the pain was breaking his concentration, and he needed every drop. He pulled his rings off one by one and weighed them in his palm, eyes tearing in relief. “Ah.”

“Would it were so simple for me,” Murchaud said, clubbed hair bobbing over his collar as he turned to watch a groundlit El Camino lowrider purr past. “Aren’t you going to ask me what Hell is like, Matthew Magus?” A very tired voice, without the lilt Matthew expected.

“I was going to ask why no one came after you, like Tam Lin.”

The Duke of Hell broke stride at that, but recovered quickly. “Those who had the power did not care for the risk,” he said quietly. “And the one who cared for the risk had long ago surrendered whatever the Morningstar would have liked of him.

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