Sin Eater by Shel Mike

Author:Shel, Mike
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-19T16:00:00+00:00

19

Rooftop

It was not until the mob had breached the doors of the Citadel that it dawned on Agnes she didn’t know how she would get down from the roof. Getting up there had been a dicey affair, involving dangling from the stone gutter and swinging herself back and forth until she caught a crouching gargoyle spout with a leg, praying all the while the fringe of the broiling mob at the south face of the building wouldn’t notice her. She would make a juicy target for improvised missiles, and the thirty-foot drop to the cobblestones below wouldn’t be kind. She surveyed the rooftop terrain in the moonlight, a confused hodge-podge of architectural styles that told the tale of the sprawling complex’s slow expansion over the centuries. She decided to give up on descending the outer walls—they were an imposing edifice all the way around without dependable purchase. She decided that the warehouse at the rear of the complex, where she had received Chalca and Qeelb, was her best bet: it had a gently sloping roof that would offer a fifteen-foot drop, less if any carts were gathered there. That would place her furthest from the mob’s assault, but it couldn’t be helped.

Agnes traversed the rooftop as quickly as she could, alternately cursing her pace as too reckless or too cautious between dangerous slips and a nagging awareness that dozens of deranged invaders were wreaking havoc in the Grand Entry Hall. She was convinced that this unprovoked attack on the Syraeic League was orchestrated by the malice of Timilis, or his accursed clergy. She observed strange behavior in the crowd below, reminding her of the assault in the alley, when she was nearly raped by two ensorcelled workmen. She shivered with revulsion at the memory of it.

Was her father part of the Citadel’s defense? She picked up speed across a gently sloping roof tiled with slate, arms out to keep her balance. A second later she was sliding down the stone shingles, having slipped on a slick patch lost in the gloom of a chimney shadow. Her feet skidded on the tiles, desperate for purchase, her fingers clawing for something to grab hold of. Her salvation came in the form of a soot-stained chimney pipe perilously close to the roof’s edge; she managed to grab it with both hands. Her feet dangled over the rain gutter in the cool night air. A pause there for a moment, two deep breaths, before slowly pulling herself up and using the iron pipe to stand.

She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of gratitude when at last she reached the flat surface past the slate shingles. When she opened them again, an incongruous cluster of treetops presented themselves, poking above the masonry: the Orchard! It was a smallish courtyard with three stout apple trees favored by novices spared duties on weekends. She approached the edge and peered over; the courtyard below was hidden by the leafy canopy of a treetop. A hoped-for fat branch she could shimmy across from the roof did not present itself.

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