Break the Chains by Megan E. O'Keefe

Author:Megan E. O'Keefe [O’Keefe, Megan E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-85766-494-5
Publisher: Watkins Media
Published: 2016-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Nouli’s name?” Ripka asked, taking a half-step backward.

The muscles of Kisser’s neck jumped and she closed the distance Ripka had put between them. “Yes. Tell me how you know of my uncle.”

Ripka licked her lips, resisting an urge to glance to Enard for guidance. She knew Detan’s story of Nouli’s exploits as well as he did. “Detan Honding told me of his inventions. Of his time spent in Valathea, and with Thratia Ganal when she took over the Saldive Isles.”

A soft sound escaped Nouli’s lips, something between a moan and a curse, and he shuffled away from them, covering half his face with one hand as he eased himself onto a bench with the other. He knocked piles of clothes to the ground, and didn’t seem to notice. Ripka’s stomach fell. This was the great Nouli Bern?

Kisser stepped to Ripka’s side and dropped her voice, nearly pressing her lips against Ripka’s ear as she whispered, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?”

Ripka’s back stiffened at the insinuation that she meant Nouli harm. Enard placed his hand on Kisser’s arm and turned her, gently, toward him, his voice soft as silk. “Tell us.”

She snorted and shook him off. “Why would I talk to you, Glasseater?” She shooed them away. “Get out. Leave him in peace.”

Ripka locked her gaze on Nouli, on every deep line of his wizened face, trying to judge what he’d say, what he’d do. She wished Detan were here. He was better at reading people and adjusting schemes on the fly than she was.

Skies above, until a year ago she’d never needed to have schemes outside of the petty politics of the watch.

“We don’t mean any harm,” she said.

“It’s all right,” Nouli spoke to Kisser without looking at her. His shock had faded, his face slack. He appeared calm to her now, though she couldn’t tell if it was his strength or his panic that had fled him. “Let her speak her piece.”

Kisser huffed and crossed her arms. It was as much permission as Ripka could ever hope to get. Stifling an urge to shove Kisser aside and drop to her knees before Nouli, she cleared her throat and said, “I know you’ve been here a long time, Master Bern. Have you heard of Thratia Ganal’s seizure of Aransa?”

He wiped his hands on a clean cloth thrown over his shoulder and glanced at Kisser.

“Tell her what you want, Uncle, you’re the one who wanted to hear what she has to say.”

With a sigh he stood, shaky, and settled onto a stool behind the table, making a shield of his instruments. He gestured to a few crates scattered nearby. “Please, sit. I suspect this conversation will take longer than anticipated. Yes, I am aware of Ganal’s dictatorship in Aransa. What does it matter to you?”

“Aransa was my city... my home. Though I knew her rule would be with a firm hand, I had not guessed that she would go so far as to buck all imperial influence.

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