To Steal the Sun by S. M. Carter

Author:S. M. Carter [Carter, S. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781775043561
Goodreads: 60664723
Publisher: RAID Press
Published: 2022-04-02T06:00:00+00:00

PART II

Amara

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Nightspirit Thief was a shadow that prowled streets—an evening breeze slipping through the city without a trace. That was the legend whispered throughout Cresia.

Standing just inside the gates of Duraktapur, on a staired plaza looking out over the first cornan’s market street, Amara doubted even a breeze could make it through this density of people.

The swarming boulevard was divided by a strip of alternating white and purple cherry blossoms. Amara had never seen blossoms this big; their massive canopies fanned across the road like butterfly wings. Dotted along the edges of the street was a multitude of tinted cornflower blue tent vendors with flocks of people around them.

She could pick out the Duraktapurians easily in the masses. Most of the men wore white short-sleeved tunics reaching down to their knees, some trimmed in black or gold. The women were more interesting. Their shirts were white as well, but they made up for it with embroidered capes that plumed out behind them in purples, blues, and yellows.

The Duraktapurians, however, were the minority.

For every five Duraktapurians, there were ten from elsewhere. Every region of the Jeweled Lands and beyond was present in this churning stew. Mousey, pink-skinned Sargonians from the north. Stout, bright eyes from Sindabur. Even blonde-haired Tireenians teemed in a lumpy mixture of humanity.

And judging by their long hair and colorful dress, there were also Cresians in the crowd. The border between the two countries had been sealed years prior when the tension of the Quiet Truce tightened.

“I didn’t expect so many outsiders,” Amara said over the noise of the crowd as Raik joined her.

“Durovan, just like their leader, love the aesthetics and, more importantly, order. If you live in harmony with the rest, you get to stay. And if you end up buying into all their Durovan philosophies, you get to move up cornans. Though they don’t let many outsiders above the second level.”

Amara nodded.

“Don’t worry. Down here, there are still lots of good clean criminals like us.” He shot her a wink and started down the stairs.

Amara took a breath and followed, shoving and shimmying as she breached the crowd. Behind her trailed Kirin, who’d just returned from selling their horses; Kahli, who’d changed her unusual half mask for a veil; and the Old Walker. It was hard to keep up, and colliding smells of every kind assaulted her: a rich lavender perfume on a passerby, a sweet aroma from a merchant peddling smoked meat.

As she craned her neck to stare at the never-ending row of magnificent granite buildings lining the road, she bumped into a tall stranger.

“Excuse m—” she started before fear overtook her.

The face staring at her was noseless, and its eyes glowed red. A Stick.

The nightspirit growled, and instinctively, she reached for her weapon. Before she drew it, Raik pulled her away. He ushered her out from the crowd, next to a stand where rows of mackerel, smothered in red spice flakes, were being smoked.

“Leave it to Norys to take enemies in,” he hissed in her ear.

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