City of Miracles by Robert Jackson Bennett

Author:Robert Jackson Bennett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2017-05-01T16:00:00+00:00

Ivanya opens the trunk, showing him where the clothes hangers can hook on, the little drawers where the shoes can be stored. “Looks normal, yes?” she says.

“Yes?” says Sigrud.

“But…” She reaches into the back, undoes some clasp, and the entire back of the trunk opens up, revealing a hidden compartment that is obviously meant to store firearms. “See? There we go. It’s got capacity for two long riflings, broken down, maybe a scatter-gun, and probably three to four pistols. We need to secure them with these ties here, so they don’t rattle….”

Sigrud nods, impressed. “Sometimes you give me pause, Ivanya Restroyka. It’s like you were preparing for an invasion.”

“Oh, and what happened in Voortyashtan wasn’t an invasion? When all those Divine soldiers almost rowed ashore and started slaughtering everyone?”

“Fair point.” He points at two smaller clasps in the back of the trunk. “What are those for? Blades? Rapiers?”

“Yes,” says Ivanya with a sniff. “Do you know, I’m actually much better with a sword than I am with a firearm? Fencing is a time-honored ladies’ sport in Bulikov. Mother drilled me quite mercilessly in the art. But, like everything Bulikovian, it’s hopelessly out of date. Only a fool goes to battle with a sword these days.”

She walks around her bed to her chest of drawers. Ivanya Restroyka’s bedroom, much like Ivanya herself, is bare, stark, and economical, only possessing enough to do what is necessary. He regularly forgets he’s in the room with the richest woman on the Continent. “I’d take a damned cannon to Bulikov if I could,” she says, opening up her drawers and pulling out clothes. “I have a house there, but I never use it. Used to be Vo’s, just like a quarter of the damned city. I can’t stand to be within those walls anymore. But I suppose I’ll have to try.”

“I have heard the city has changed.”

“Oh, it’s changed. Just like everything else, Bulikov’s changed as well. But…Ah.” She reaches into one drawer and takes out a slender, sparkling black dress. She unfolds it and holds it up to the light. It’s old and lined, but still beautiful, a relic of some past era of her life. She smiles at it, a sad, wistful expression, then holds it up to herself, pressing it against her wiry frame. “Think it still fits?”

Sigrud looks at Ivanya Restroyka. He takes in her lean, hard face, her neck long and smooth, her eyes bright and brittle like flint. “I do, actually,” he says.

“Shows a lot of shoulder. Shoulders that probably aren’t much to look at after a few years spent out here.” She sighs, perhaps remembering better days, then slowly places it back in the drawer. “Bulikov might have changed, Sigrud, but like so many things, it can’t forget what’s happened to it. It is still what it was. And that can’t change. So I shall step lightly.”

“I see,” says Sigrud quietly.

“Do you have any clothes?”

“Not beyond what I packed for the sea voyage,” says Sigrud. “And that will have to do.

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