City of Blades by Bennett Robert Jackson

Author:Bennett, Robert Jackson [Bennett, Robert Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Fantasy, Suspense, Paranormal & Urban, Epic
ISBN: 9780553419719
Publisher: Broadway Books
Published: 2016-01-25T08:00:00+00:00

Sigrud stops cleaning his pipe. “You think Sumitra Choudhry is in the Voortyashtani afterlife?”

“No one’s seen hide nor hair of her,” says Mulaghesh. “And besides the person she surprised coming out of the tunnel to the mines, I can’t see that she had any real enemies. She explicitly says in the message that she went somewhere. That’s the only logical conclusion, illogical as it may be.”

“So if she did go over to the City of Blades…why?”

“She came to the same conclusion I did—the Night of the Sea of Swords, the Voortyashtani apocalypse. She realized it might be coming, that someone might be trying to trigger it. Maybe Choudhry went there to try to stop it. But how she thought she could do that…I don’t know.” She tosses the decoded message back onto the desk. “Fuck. Not for the first time, I wish Shara were here. She’d know what to do.”

Sigrud packs his pipe until it is overflowing with what smells like abysmally poor tobacco. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“She’s supposed to be hands-off with me. Industry forces looking over her shoulder, that kind of thing. The only means I have of contacting her is routing a telegram through Bulikov to Ahanashtan. It’d take days.”

“She didn’t tell you about the emergency line?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Her…emergency line. For contacting her.”

“You’re just repeating yourself. No. No, I have no idea what in the hells you’re talking about.”

He sticks his pipe in his mouth and screws up his face as he thinks about it. “Do you really want to talk to her?”

“Well…It’d be nice, sure, so—”

“Say no more.” He walks to the window and licks his finger. “Now…How did this stupid thing start? Ah, yes.” He then begins to draw on one pane of the window, his thick finger making delicate, graceful strokes on the glass.

“What are you doing?” says Mulaghesh. “Are y…Whoa.” She watches as his finger appears to dip into the glass, like it’s not a solid pane but is instead the surface of a puddle, somehow hanging there on the wall.

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