Pile of Bones by Bailey Cunningham

Author:Bailey Cunningham [Cunningham, Bailey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Contemporary, General
ISBN: 9781101624890
Google: IEh3zBSWJOAC
Amazon: B009RYS3J0
Barnesnoble: B009RYS3J0
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2013-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

TROVADOR

1

WHEN HE SAW MORGAN PULL OUT THE DIE, Babieca knew that it was time to run. Most people had fled once the silenoi began climbing through the window. They frightened him, but this was the Arx of Violets. The oecus was padded with miles and sagittarii. The silenoi must have been some strange trick, a bit of spirited entertainment to impress the beautiful visitor. The thing with the bee was a bit random, but maybe there would be bracing heroics to follow. When the first miles bounced off the floor, he realized that this was no performance. He turned to warn Domina Pendelia, but she was already gone.

I knew she wasn’t really going to visit the toilets.

He grabbed Roldan by the arm, steering him toward the nearest exit. The silenoi were only interested in Basilissa Pulcheria. If they moved in the opposite direction, they merely had to avoid being crushed by hysterical guests. Babieca noticed that Felix was gone as well. The meretrices had no honor. All they cared about was reputation. At least musicians would sometimes help you. They might even divide the takings from a successful night. Felix had left them to be trampled or riddled with arrows.

Then Morgan drew the die. Babieca’s breath caught. He’d been caught in a roll only once before, when a bloodthirsty game of acedrex was about to go south. One of the players had cast his die, asking Fortuna not to let him win, but to grant him the speed necessary to stick a dagger in his opponent’s eyeball. Fortuna gave him a high roll. Babieca had no die, so he didn’t understand how it worked. It was an old power made by Fortuna, the very first game, or something like that. All he knew of Morgan’s path to the die was that she’d won it after nearly getting killed by a silenus. It climbed the battlements and gave her a scar on the back of her head. Morgan told the story only when she was drunk, so the details remained imprecise.

“It’s for the shot,” Roldan said. “Look. She’s using the arrowhead.”

“We don’t need to look. We need to run, before—”

I choose to roll. Morgan’s voice rose from the dark clerestory.

Which of her offerings would please Fortuna? What would she promise? Dozens of possibilities crowded his head. I’ll go blind for two weeks. You can break my hands. I’ll throw Eumachia over the edge. Fortuna could ask for anything. Suddenly, he realized what the price would be.

“We have to run.”

“We can’t.”

He stared at Roldan. “She’s about to roll. If we’re caught in the mix, anything could happen. Our presence could even be making her hesitate.”

“She won’t hesitate,” Roldan said. “And we might be part of the offering. There’s the chance that it won’t work without us.”

He grabbed Roldan by the hand. Then he felt a strange pressure. Darkness fluttered at the corners of his vision. Everything slowed down. The movements around him were thick and attenuated, like honey. The die was cast.

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