Dark Harvest by Josh Reynolds

Author:Josh Reynolds
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2019-08-08T06:06:23+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

RED SEED

I didn’t go back the way I’d come.

I found another cistern and washed my hands and coat as best I could. I wasn’t the only person wandering around town with blood on him, but I felt better with it gone. No need to risk undue attention from the guards, even if I was on his lordship’s payroll. When I was finished, I wandered back towards the far edge of town, where solid ground gave way to water and reeds, and the houses rested on stilts rather than stone foundations.

There wasn’t much here. The town slid into the water, with new shacks built atop sunken roofs, or on the anchored shapes of barges and scuttled boats. Trees stretched over the fallen slopes, casting deep shadows onto the water.

It was quieter on this side of town. There weren’t many people here. A few sat on porches, or on the docks and jetties, playing instruments, cooking or preparing meat. No one paid me any attention, or if they did, they kept it to themselves.

I figured I’d satisfactorily impressed the need for urgency on Pender. As far as he knew, I was trouble. The sooner he helped me, the sooner I was gone. Granted, he might try to kill me again, but I had him down as the type who wouldn’t want to annoy someone like Caspar Guno. Either way, something would happen.

The key to finding someone who doesn’t want to be found is to shake as many trees as possible and see what falls out. Murn was definitely hiding somewhere in town, and probably with help. Maybe Pender, maybe Deshler or someone else. That he was hiding from his lordship was obvious. Not from me, though, which made things easier.

I was still in the dark as to why he’d risked sending for me. I knew he wouldn’t have done it without good reason. Maybe he expected me to help him escape whatever mess it was that he’d obviously got himself into. Or maybe…

A trap. Just not the one you thought.

I closed my eyes as the words sifted through my head. So soft, they might have been my own thoughts. If I’d been anyone other than who I was, I might have assumed just that. But Cassian had taught me how to hear when something was using my voice as camouflage. Daemons were tricky things.

You think me so small as that?

I didn’t reply. I kept walking. I heard the ghost of an echo of great hooves, plodding in my wake. I didn’t turn around. I knew there’d be nothing there.

I shaded my eyes against the glare on the water and peered across the swamp. The shrine sat at the top of the island. Azyrite shrines were often built on hills or crags – as close to the stars as possible. As close to Azyr and its God-King as possible.

Trees rose in thick, irregular rows, dominating the path and the island. I was reminded of an encroaching army, blocking off all retreat. As I observed them, I knew I was being observed in turn.

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