The Ragged Blade by Christopher Ruz

Author:Christopher Ruz [Ruz, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780999784280
Published: 2019-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-seven

Richard and Ana walked until it was too dark to walk anymore. They found a hollow with clear lines of sight and tucked in deep enough so the wind didn’t howl quite so loud.

For the first time in many nights, Richard didn’t dream.

They woke and walked again. The spires of the Knives grew taller as they worked deeper into the canyon until they blocked the sun entirely. A dry wind howled around the tips of the spires, and Richard was reminded of the governors and priests locked in the dungeons of Stonebridge, shrieking in the dark as they battered their heads against the walls and tore strips of skin from their cheeks, as if trying to peel away their masks of madness. The sound made Richard’s jaw ache, and he tore two strips of linen from the hem of his burnouse to work into his ears. It only dimmed the sound a little, but it was enough.

The shadows deepened into velvet, and the air cooled until it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore. Richard shared the goat jerky with Ana—it tasted like chewing on a horse blanket, and a few sips of stale water did little to wash the flavor from Richard’s tongue, but it served. “We’ve made good distance,” he told Ana. “Well done.”

She pointed upwards. Black shapes wheeled against the purple blush of the evening sky. “What?”

“Birds,” Richard said. “You know birds. Those are vultures, same as the ones we tried to hunt out by the boat. See the long necks, the big wings?”

Ana nodded slowly. “Vulture.”

“Good. They’re carrion birds. Means something is dead or about to die. You can follow them to water, too. Remember that.”

She nodded again.

“Ana . . .” He didn’t want to push too hard. Talking with Ana felt like cradling a wren’s egg, breath held, praying for the shell not to crack. Even so, he knew he should be grateful. A month ago, he’d wondered if she’d ever speak. Now, when the days were calm, and her mood held steady, he could almost pretend she was a normal child.

Almost.

“Always ask questions,” Richard said. “Always. I won’t ever say no.”

Ana licked her lips. “What—” She stopped, cocking her head. “People.”

Richard held his breath. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard, in the distance, stone rattling. He crouched low in the shadow of the great spires, willing his heart to slow, clearing his mind just as he had when he was young and wore the hood. He made himself into pure silence.

There, once more, on the very edge of hearing. Pebbles rolling together.

He motioned Ana to his side. “Something’s following.”

Ana tilted her head back. Her nostrils flared. “Since yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Why didn’t you—” He swore under his breath. “How many? Is it the Magician?”

“Not him,” she whispered. “I know him.”

“How many?”

She held up four fingers.

“Then who?”

Ana only drew her dagger and crept on into the maze.

Richard walked silently, on his toes, listening to the clack and rattle of pursuit. Ana was right—there were too many echoed footfalls to be just one man.

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