Free The Blood Debt by Sean Williams Page A

—’

    ‘Do as the man says, Skender.’ Chu had turned back. Her expression was suddenly very serious. ‘Come on.’

    She shrugged into her jacket and helped him to his feet. His legs were wobbling and he was grateful for her support.

    ‘Where are we going?’ he asked the man, a tall, triangular-faced yadachi with a beard that covered most of his face. His robe was as red as blood and he carried with him a heavy scent of cloves. Cold blue eyes regarded Skender with naked disdain.

    ‘I’ve told you once,’ was the only reply he got. ‘And I’m in a hurry.’

    ‘Lead the way,’ said Chu, gesturing to the door. ‘I assure you we’ll keep up.’

    The man turned his back on them and pressed through the crowd. The music continued unabated as they left the heat and stink of the tavern and entered the night.

    * * * *

    Laure was a desert city, but one very different to the underground metropolises of the Interior. Its position right on the Divide left it technically part of the Interior but facing a raft of problems unique to such border towns. Skender hadn’t had very long to research the history of the walled city before he left, but he did know that the yadachi weren’t indigenous: they had originally been a roaming sect of Change-workers, struggling to survive in a world where neither sea nor stone were very strong and where most of the available reservoirs were already taken. Their particular solution to that problem had found fertile soil in Laure, so they thrived where both Mage and Warden would struggle.

    Their yadachi guide took them at a brisk pace through winding streets, without once looking back. Skender and Chu walked one pace behind, catching each other when they stumbled. He was surprised to realise that she was exactly the same height as he. In the bar and on the rooftop, she had seemed much taller.

    ‘He called me “Mage”,’ he hissed to her. ‘What was that about?’

    ‘Assumptions, remember?’ she whispered back. ‘It doesn’t hurt to encourage them, sometimes.’

    ‘But I’m not —’

    She put a hand to his mouth. ‘Don’t argue. Being a Mage still means something here, and it’s getting us to the Magister sooner rather than later. Every hour we save is one less your mother languishes in the Divide. Right?’

    He couldn’t argue with that, although he disliked her methods. Twisting his head to free his mouth, he glared at her and told himself to sober up, fast. It was all very well to be seeing the Magister, but it wouldn’t do him much good if he couldn’t string a coherent sentence together.

    Being a Mage still means something here. He supposed that made sense. The rest of the Interior might ignore Laure’s existence, for the most part, but the artefacts they sold had to be bought by someone.

    Slowly, the architecture improved. Slumping walls and drifts of sand that had been allowed to build up in corners gave way to clear, bold lines and well maintained sidewalks. The city’s tapering minarets strained for the stars in the crisp evening air. Frosted circular windows glowed with warmth and light. Voices filtered faintly through thick stone walls. By dawn it would be very cold. Skender hoped to be safe in his bed well before then.

    Their guide passed through a heart-shaped gate with a wide, sharp-tipped portcullis above their heads, and led them into a fortified building with no windows. Their footsteps echoed off ceramic tiles that gleamed by stone-light. Brass shields hung on thick chains from hooks all along the wide corridor they followed. It doglegged to the right and terminated in two broad white doors.

    Their guide knocked twice, firmly. The doors opened. Skender and Chu were ushered into an antechamber larger than the tavern they had just left. Its walls were featureless, polished stone, except for the one facing the door, where hung a gleaming glass mural of restless blues and greens — colours rarely seen in the city’s desert environment. Guards