Knife Sworn by Mazarkis Williams

Author:Mazarkis Williams
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781597803861
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2012-09-01T08:22:25+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

RUSHES

Hagga came into the Ways, calling across the blackness, her voice accompanied by the tempting smells of bread and apple. “Come along, child,” she said, “You can’t hide in here forever.”

Rushes pressed herself against the wall, though she knew Hagga couldn’t see her. She’d found this little platform in the Ways when she was still with the Many. Stairs rose from the commonly used paths and led to a narrow ledge just big enough for her to sit with her legs drawn up. Perhaps a door had once graced this landing, but no longer.

“I’ll leave this food here,” Hagga said at last, turning away. Her door to the Ways opened and shut, a bright flash of yellow lantern-light, and then darkness.

A trap. Rushes didn’t move, though the flesh of that apple filled her mind. She listened for Gorgen first. He would be waiting nearby, still and quiet like herself, angrier than ever. At long last she let her feet down to dangle over the edge. Far below in the chasm lay bones upon bones, the new fallen among the ancient. Some of the Many had walked across that floor, picking their way between rib cages. Gold gathered there too, some coins so old that the faces stamped upon them were no more than legends. The Many had not been interested in coins. They had always let them fall, turning away, looking for something more useful.

She rolled to her feet, one hand on the wall. The stairs were just five paces away, and her shoes were soft. If Gorgen was out there, he might not hear. His silence frightened. He was one to shout and bluster, not wait in the darkness. Whatever punishment he had planned must be worth some patience. In all the whole day and night she had been hiding she had not heard him, not seen him, once.

A scattering sounded below her. A rat, maybe, running between the bones and the money. Or a person. She remembered the emperor in the dungeons, remembered his wild, bright eyes. That too had been a dark, lonely place. She scooted down the stairs, eyes scanning the darkness. The apple was closer now, just over the bridge. She could smell it, a smell of freedom, of trees and open air, but the bridge scared her, so narrow as it was and with a drop to either side. She fell to her hands and knees and began to crawl.

And heard a rustle, an unmistakable sound of fabric against fabric. Gorgen! Rushes froze, but whoever shared the Ways with her moved off, up another set of stairs, on his own business. A coincidence. Not Gorgen. The rustle sounded again, this time accompanied by heavy breathing, and then a voice.

“Do you have the seeds?” A man, or so she thought. His tone was high, but commanding.

A woman answered. “Yes.”

The two carried no lights and spoke so quietly that Rushes had to creep forward, listening hard.

“What did you tell the priest?”

The woman spoke with an accent, hard on the consonants, similar to Marke Kavic’s way of speaking.

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