Free When the Heavens Fall by Marc Turner Page B

doubts that,” the mage said, puffing out his chest. “There are few as perceptive as your humble—”
    â€œGood. I would have it stay that way.”
    Mottle was silent for a time, then nodded. “As you wish. Mottle is not unmindful of the complications that would arise if such information were to fall into the wrong hands. His lips are sealed. Discretion is but one of Mottle’s many virtues.”
    â€œI am grateful for that, my friend.”
    The old man nudged Ebon in the ribs. “Does this mean you will not be wringing Mottle’s scrawny neck?”
    My conversation with Vale … He heard! Ebon’s lips quirked. “Your point is well made. In future I will be sure to speak more carefully when others may be listening.”
    â€œA valuable lesson, yes? But fear not, Mottle does not hold such hastily voiced words against you. You are not the first to underestimate Mottle’s talents, and he would not have it any other way. So many secrets tumble unbidden into his lap.”
    â€œYou have an interesting take on eavesdropping.”
    The mage drew himself up. “Think Mottle a spy, do you? He is not.” His tone softened. “Though if he were, there would be none better. A whispered comment spoken even at a distance booms loud in his ears…” The old man tilted his head. “And so it is now. The time is upon us, my boy. It seems the King’s Council is convening, and Queen Rosel laments our absence.”
    â€œThen we had better not keep her waiting.” Ebon made for the doorway before pausing and looking back. “I don’t suppose you would care to enlighten me now as to the reason for this gathering?”
    Mottle gave a secretive smile and strode past.
    Ebon sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

 
    C HAPTER 3
    S OMEONE WAS following Luker.
    The feeling had been with him since he left the Sacrosanct, and it wasn’t the sort of feeling you ignored unless you wanted a crossbow bolt between your shoulders. He looked back, half expecting to spy some fool ducking into an alley, but there was nothing to see except the rain sweeping down in thick gray sheets. He scanned the doorways of the buildings along the street. Deserted. A corner of one of the shop’s awnings had torn loose and now shuddered and cracked in the wind. Otherwise, all was still. The sense of being watched would not leave him, though, and he had learned to trust his instincts on such things.
    Loosening his swords in their scabbards, he set off again at a measured walk. No point in hurrying. He was already as soaked as if he’d taken a dip in the harbor, and besides, he didn’t want his pursuer to know he’d been spotted. For a quarter of a bell Luker followed the twists and turns of Dock Street as it wound toward the port, trying to work out how it felt to be back on home ground. Wet, he decided. He passed the gates to the Gamala Clock Tower on his right, then ducked into a cobbled passage, keeping to the wall where the shadows were deepest. The alley ran like a river, and water seeped into his boots.
    He waited.
    The tower bells clanged to mark the second hour of eventide, and the wall at the Guardian’s back trembled. Above a grumble of thunder he heard chirruping overhead. Looking up, he saw a pair of chitter monkeys watching him from the top of the Clock Tower. A squad of Bratbaks emerged through the gloom along Dock Street, their heads bowed as they labored up the hill. For a heartbeat Luker wondered whether they could be his pursuers. Then he realized they were heading away from the harbor, not toward it.
    He swore. His hunter should have passed by now. Unless the bastard saw me enter the alley. But then why hadn’t he followed Luker in? Had the chitter monkeys given away his presence? He’s good, Luker thought grudgingly. Another Guardian perhaps, or one of the emperor’s men, sent to make sure he did not flee the city?