The Wound of the World by Robertson Edward W

Author:Robertson, Edward W. [Robertson, Edward W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy, Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Amazon: B01M31CD0W
Goodreads: 32740645
Published: 2016-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

~

By the time she woke up, she hadn't found any answers. But she didn't care, either. She'd made her decision weeks ago. She was here. She'd do her job.

She spent the day touring the city. Talking to locals. Goading them into explaining politics to the wide-eyed foreigner. She tried to poke the conversation toward wars and foreign affairs, hoping the people she was speaking with would spit out a few names worth spying on. The name Harald Walstone came up three different times. He was the Minister of the Eastern Reach, and it sounded like he was a hardass.

After a long day, the last light angled through the sky like it was passing through clear water. She headed back to the tailor. The job wasn't done yet, but the girl was happy to keep working—she was hungry, eager to prove herself. Raxa was happy to see it.

As the nine o'clock bells neared, the tailor handed Raxa a bundle of clothes and showed her to a private room to dress. Were the Mallish that squeamish about the sight of somebody else's smallclothes? Raxa stripped out of her old junk and pulled on a linen shirt, trousers that were rakishly baggy yet contoured to her shape, and a woolen doublet with sleeves that stopped at the elbow. Some of her ilk liked fancy footwear, but Raxa thought that well-worn shoes were a mark of your character. She'd kept hers.

All in all, it should have looked mannish, but the cuts and stylings kept it feminine. For her line of work, it was the perfect marriage of rebelliousness and practicality. On her way out of the tailor's, she felt enough swagger to be tempted to kick down the door.

She made her way back to the Boxing Turtle. Good cheer spilled from the shutters. Her entrance drew a few glances. She found an empty spot at a shelf on the side of the room and flagged down the serving boy for a beer. As she made her way through the bitter drink, she surveyed the room.

Didn't take long to find her mark: he sat at a table surrounded by confident young men and a few women who got a good laugh out of everything he said. His dark hair was swept back from his brow with an oil that surely smelled sweet, and when he gestured with his mug, he didn't spill a drop. Two types of people had dexterity like that: acrobats, and people who knew how to kill other people with swords.

If she wanted access to the Red Ghosts and their underground contacts, information, and resources, that was who she had to convince. Raxa doubted that words or the right outfit would be enough. She bided her time until he rose to use the privy. As he returned through the room, she stood and cut across the pub to intercept him.

The ol' bump-and-grab would be too obvious. He'd probably known that one since he was six. Knight-Saves-the-Lady? If she fell in front of

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