Free undying legion 01 - unbound man by matt karlov

comprised a single estate, built by the scholar-kings some hundred and fifty years ago after the collapse of the Coridon republic and re-establishment of the Free Cities. But Spyridon no longer had kings or queens, and though a prince still lived in the palace, the title no longer carried any real power. That now belonged to the city circle, and foremost among the circle’s members was the Conservator of the Library.
    Dozens of small shops lined the inner side of the Arcade, each one partly set into the hill and separated by stairs that led up to the Great Square and the Library itself. Though most shops still housed Library scribes, many were now home to pressers and typesetters, some selling printed copies of sought-after books, others offering bespoke printing to those who could afford the not-insignificant cost. The Arcade’s other side opened to the city below and the surrounding country: tiled roofs of brown and red; the half-built walls at the city’s edge — a strange design, all sharp angles and out-thrust bastions, claimed by those in charge to offer greater resistance to cannon bombardment than a simple ring; and beyond that, distant orchards and meadows, all framed by the dark granite of the Arcade’s balustrade and arches. Street vendors wandered back and forth along the wide gallery, calling out their wares to passers-by and the Arcade at large.
    The scribes and printers in the first few shops claimed never to have heard of Yevin, though each professed themselves more than willing to satisfy whatever need Arandras possessed with their own services. Eventually Arandras tried a pie-seller, who directed him to a shop near the far end of the Arcade in exchange for the purchase of a pastry filled with carrot and eel. But the shop’s door turned out to be closed, and the heavy wooden shutters fastened shut. Arandras contemplated it with a frown as he finished his pastry.
    “You are seeking someone, yes?”
    Arandras turned. A bear of a man in a too-small printer’s smock waved an ink-stained hand from the door of the neighbouring shop. Behind him, his equally burly assistant glanced briefly at Arandras before bending his head to a partially-filled frame of type.
    “I’m looking for a scribe by the name of Yevin Bauk,” Arandras said, walking across. “I’m told that’s his shop?”
    The printer chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, you are too late. He left this morning, with the sunrise. So eager he was, he could not wait even for the second bell. Left me some books, he did, that he wished returned.”
    Damn it. “Left? Where did he go? Is he coming back?”
    “Why yes, of course he is coming back!” said the man, laughing. “He travels only to Anstice. He will return in, what, a week? Perhaps two. Not long.”
    “Oh. Good,” Arandras said, caught halfway between relief and frustration. Anstice, again. Surely it was no coincidence that Yevin should take a hurried, apparently unplanned trip to Anstice the morning after receiving that letter. But no, there were a dozen or more letters in that bundle and Grae said most of them were from Anstice.
    “This Yevin, he owes you money? Owes you work? Do not be fearful, he will return, just as I say.”
    “No, it’s nothing like that. I wished to consult with him on a… professional matter. Do you know what business he has in Anstice?”
    The man shrugged. “Business is what business is, yes? Me, I would need very good business there to miss so much business here. But maybe his business here is not so good, not so much to miss?”
    “Maybe.” Arandras considered for a moment. “You mentioned some books. Could I see them?”
    “Ah, no, you are too late for that, too. They are already returned to the Library. And no, I am sorry, I do not remember what they were. Just books.”
    “I see. Well. Thank you.” Arandras nodded to the man, who returned it with another chuckle.
    “A pleasure, of course. I will tell Yevin that a friend asked after him. He will