Blood of the City by Robin D. Laws

Author:Robin D. Laws
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781601254566
Publisher: Paizo Publishing, LLC
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Rag’s End

Luma set off alone, heading down into Lowcleft. She ducked past jugglers, drummers, a storyteller declaiming an old yarn about the Red Mantis cult, and a blind illusionist’s display of dancing lights. The sight of a Hellknight squad gave her pause; when she saw they were busy harassing a troupe of Varisian mummers, she breezed boldly past them. She found Garatz at the Old Sword and beckoned him to a quiet corner. He stood and instead ushered her out of the tavern. He turned a corner and leaned against a wall, winded.

“You can’t poke your head in there no more,” he said.

“Someone came around asking,” said Luma.

“Ulisa. She was tight-lipped as ever, not quite coming out and saying it, but it was you she was after. And any of us who had helped you.”

“I won’t endanger you further.” Luma walked away.

He hobbled after her. “I never said I was afraid,” he growled. “I never got the full account from you before. You’re in trouble with the squad, aren’t you?”

“You could say that.”

“Your sister’s manner, I didn’t like it. You see your father?”

“Thank you for telling me to go to him.”

“I’d never open my mouth about this. Not until now. But there’s always been a wrongness in them. Your sisters and brothers, I mean. I never could say why. Randred, as far as he was concerned, they could never put a foot wrong, but the rest of us could see different…A father’s supposed to look on his children with pride, isn’t he? You can’t fault him for that.”

“I don’t.”

“They haven’t hurt him, have they?”

“I can’t get him out of there all on my own.”

“And you can’t go to the city guard when they think you murdered Khonderian.”

“I have to figure out all of that before I can move, and hope it’s not too late. This is why I’ve come here. You still hear the scuttlebutt, yes?”

“Sure.”

“Any Shoanti sightings? Preferably Priza, but I’ll take whatever you’ve heard.”

“Come back in a couple hours,” Garatz told her. “No, wait. Here’s too hot. Remember the olive press, across from Frehgan’s smithy?”

“In Keystone,” Luma nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Luma whiled the time scouting for a hideout. She walked west, into the Marches, home to simple traders and ordinary folk. At its rougher edges, near the city walls, she might find a shack to rent. City guards rarely ventured there: its people were neither rich enough to warrant their protection nor desperate enough to require arresting. In their place, acolytes of various temples did their best to fill the vacuum of authority. The fortunes of House Derexhi would mean nothing to them, nor would the desires of the lord-mayor or his men. If the safety of anonymity awaited her anywhere in Magnimar, it would be here.

She let the citysong guide her to a narrow lane, one she had never seen before. Its name bubbled up from the depths of memory: Bent Rib Alley. It ended in a cul-de-sac, where a pair of corpulent men sweated and cursed, hauling bundles of worn clothing from a teetering hovel.

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