Bryn’s tits to her eyes.
“A hundred and twenty,” she said. “Plus the wagon and feed.”
The man scowled deeper but finally spit into his hand. “Deal.”
Bryn snorted, hocked, and coughed an entire throatful of phlegm into her palm, then shook with a wet squish, staring the dullard in the eye.
“Deal,” she said. “Prick.”
The stableman was still wiping his hand clean as they saddled up. Mia was constantly scanning the streets about them, looking for familiar faces. She could have hidden herself and Jonnen beneath her cloak of shadows, of course, but the agents of the Red Church would likely know Ashlinn just as well as she, and Mia couldn’t hide all three of them. Instead, she relied on Mercurio’s training—sticking to the shadows and lurking beneath the eaves, hood pulled low as she searched the crowd. Ashlinn was stood close by, watching the rooftops. She knew as well as Mia this was a Red Church city, that Bishop Tenhands and her Blades would be hunting for them. But for all their vigilance, it seemed they’d gone unnoticed for now. With luck, they’d be out of the cityport before their fortune and this storm broke.
“Ready?” Sidonius asked.
Mia blinked, looked to their convoy. A loaded wagon, drawn by two tired draft horses. A half dozen geldings and mares, each with a former gladiatii in Itreyan military garb atop them. Sidonius led the column, looking rather resplendent in his gravebone centurion’s armor, despite the rain wilting the blood-red plume on his helm. He reminded Mia of her fa …
… O, Goddess …
I don’t even know what to call him now …
“Aye, sir,” Mia managed to smile.
She helped her little brother up into the wagon. Ash flopped into the tray behind, propping herself against the feedbags and drawing her hood down over her face. Only Tric remained on foot, giving the horses a wide berth—Mia saw they turned wide-eyed and fitful when he strayed too near. Climbing up into the driver’s seat, she settled in beside Jonnen. Thunder boomed overhead and the boy flinched, the rain coming down thicker as lightning licked the skies. Mia dragged his new cloak’s hood up over his head, offered him the reins to take his mind off the tempest and hers off her sorrows.
“Want to drive us?” she asked.
He looked at her, expression guarded. “I … do not know how.”
“I’ll teach you,” she said. “It’ll be simple for someone as clever as you.”
With a snap of the whip and a gentle nudge, the wagon began rolling. Mia and her comrades picked their way through Galante’s streets, over the cobbles and flagstones, past the marble facades and fluted columns and stacked tenements, off toward the eastern gates. The road awaited them, and beyond that, Amai. And over the Sea of Sorrows, the Ashkahi Whisperwastes, her mentor, and whatever devilry the Red Church could conjure. But for now, Mia simply settled in beside her brother, instructing him gently, smiling as he began to enjoy himself. She felt Ashlinn in the wagon behind her, a light touch on her hip. Mia reached down and squeezed her girl’s hand.
Eyes on the boy walking before them.
Out toward the gate, and from there, the open road beyond.
* * *
Thunder crashed again, rain beating on the tiles.
Two figures stood on a rooftop in the shadow of a chimney stack, watching the convoy set out with narrowed eyes.
The first turned to the second, hands speaking where his mouth could not.
inform tenhands
The second signaled compliance, slipped away across the rooftops.
Hush remained standing in the rain.
Blue eyes on the traitors’ backs.
Nodding.
soon
CHAPTER 18
TALES
“The Lady of Storms is a hateful bitch,” Mia muttered.
They were two turns into the trek, the Cityport of Churches far behind them. Working their way east along the coast, farmland to the south, raging seas to the north. The rain was growing steadily worse, the road turning to a quagmire. The horses were miserable, the riders more so. Sidonius led the column, his blood-red centurion’s cloak and plumes sodden with rain. Tric walked parallel with the Itreyan, but far off to the flank where his presence wouldn’t spook the horses. The first nevernight they’d made camp, the deadboy had climbed a tree to get away from them so they’d settle. Mia supposed it was a good thing he didn’t sleep.
The good news was, at least for Mia, that truelight was over. While she could still feel Saai’s burning blue and Saan’s sullen red heat beyond the cover of clouds, she could sense by the dimming of the