A Mantle Of Gold (The Kingfisher Histories Book 2) by R.J. Louis

Author:R.J. Louis [Louis, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-03T22:00:00+00:00

28 - Wilhelm Walks Alone

Barefoot, bloody, and more than likely concussed, Wilhelm stumbles around the outer wall of Rezir. He’s just one of a thousand other bums who have bet all they had on a losing hand, and nobody pays him much heed. The city has guards, ostensibly, but they’re paid for by the casinos, and since he has no intention of entering one of those, they leave him be. It’s good for business to make the streets of Rezir as unappealing as possible, draws more people into the bright lights and false security of the gambling houses. He comes to a stop outside the city, where the great glass-blowing works expand outward into the desert. He watches, catching his breath, as they work into the night. Glass and gold are the life-blood of the city, shipped all over the other six shards in trade for wood, water, and food. He stands, just one of a dozen other shadows too poor to have their pockets picked, and watches as they mold the glass into great designs, the beautiful fractal shine reflecting the moon and stars as the glass cools from a molten liquid into impressive swirls of artistry. Lucky apprentices might work on bridges and windows, while those still training make countless jars, bottles, and glasses. Meanwhile, the master craftsmen work on labours of love, commissioned pieces by the wealthy of Shatter.

The city stinks. It’s par for the course, being largely enclosed. It’s cramped, crowded, and littered with refuse. Cheap labourers work day and night to clear the muck, trekking it outside on sleds, shooing beggars roughly away from anything particularly shiny that fell down from the higher levels where the air is clearer and the food and water plentiful. The city is unlike any other, cobbled together to take advantage of the limited space, it has spread vertically, rather than horizontally. Great networks of bridges, public staircases, ladders, and rooftops connect buildings, creating thoroughfares and pathways up and down the great towers. The wealthier areas are higher up, with majestic shimmering bridges of glass and metal.

The climb to the docks is slow and steady, and by the time Wilhelm finally reaches the level where The Kingfisher should be, he is struggling to stay upright. He slows now, wary of the kidnappers. The Watchers, as they called themselves, he can only hope that in the City of Miracles, he might pass unnoticed. It doesn’t take him long to find The Kingfisher’s berth, he’s never lost his ship before, never misplaced it. Others in the crew might need a helping hand at a busy city to remember where they docked, but not Wilhelm. Never him.

But now The Kingfisher is gone. Without him. The knowledge rubs at something raw in his chest, a sense of being left behind. Far be it from him to expect preferential treatment from the captain, and as far as he knows, they’re probably off looking for him.

As he scans the ships at rest, he notices a few

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