Dragons in Shallow Waters by Kane Clare

Author:Kane, Clare
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Earnshaw Books
Published: 2018-12-29T08:39:27+00:00

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The storms had cleared and the firing of the night before had stopped, and yet when I opened the window in the first blush of morning, the smell of the city, rotting, sweet and fleshy, caused me to gag. Wearily I looked to the street below, remembered how majestically ordered the Legation Quarter had once appeared; manicured, fine and unutterably dull, an aseptic town square struggling nobly against the vibrancy of the city that surrounded it. Now the quarter hummed, whined with humanity, with the dissatisfaction of existence in all its bleakest, rawest forms, its streets stained, embarrassed by the blood of many nations. A knock at the door roused me from my dismal view. Edward, a cup of coffee in his hand, stepped into the room.

“Hilde made this for you.”

A gratifying sip filled not only my mouth but also my nostrils, and the bitter, potent scent of the drink allowed me to ignore momentarily the waft of despair that passed through the window.

“I heard about the Su palace,” Edward ventured. “Terrible business. The young Miss Ward was rather upset, I imagine?”

“As is to be expected. Do you know, Edward, that I cannot remember now, not really, the precise moment in which I first I recognized the true, disappointing nature of mankind. It must have been in Afghanistan, I suppose. I do recall, however, that nothing ever felt quite the same once that terrible discovery had been made. I imagine Miss Ward experiences the very same sentiment now.”

Edward nodded, cleared his throat.

“I ask because I have just seen her by the chapel. She has drawn quite a crowd.”

“A crowd?” I set down the empty coffee cup.

“She is…well, she is raving, one might say.”

Hurriedly I navigated the narrow circuit of the Legation Quarter, that familiar maze of walls and barricades. I avoided the eyes of the young men who stood guard around its borders, recoiling at the sight of their young hands wrapped around their guns, instinctively wondering if the same fingers had wrenched at the wrists of Nina’s students only half a day prior. I came to the pavilions amongst which the chapel stood, the area had become a meeting point of sorts; notices were pasted there when there was news to report, which was not often in those ignorant days. A small crowd had indeed gathered, but they did not read the messages that papered the walls, those old, false promises of safety and a swift end to fighting. No, each of that motley assortment rather had their eyes trained upon an exchange taking place in the sweeping shadow of the pavilions, a terse dialogue between Nina, her expression savage, hunted, her complexion grey and sleepless, anger mottling her cheeks, and a European man whose unsavory countenance was distantly familiar to me. His hair had grown long and unkempt, and the hunger of the past weeks accentuated his sunken, angular frame, highlighting the unpleasantly keen angles of his face.

“Forgive me, Miss. I spoke only in jest.”

The man had an obscure accent that suggested much movement and few roots.

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