Free The Gospel According to Verdu (a Steampunk Novel) (The Brofman Series) by Emilie P. Bush Page A

zappers would be a sure sign I’m a Kiter spy.” He stepped toward the midshipman so that they were again chest to chest and made a disapproving sniff, startling the lad. “The Tugrulians have been cutting one another’s heads off for centuries, so a good knife is the discreet weapon of choice. Forgive me for offending Dr. Browner, but where I’m going, his gizmos just don’t blend. Besides, I hate a weapon that depends on batteries.”
    Without another word or change of expression, Fenimore turned on his heel and danced out of the armory whistling a bawdy saloon melody, as if he’d just enjoyed a pleasant ice cream with the young serviceman, rather than scaring the stuffing out of him.
    The lad, still shaking slightly from the knees, tried his best to straighten up and muttered to himself, “Here’s to you finding one of those Tugrulians who wants to take your head, you loony.” He, in an effort to calm himself, turned to the racks of weapons, running his fingers over the glass tubes and various wires and brass levers. “There, there, my lovelies. He didn’t mean it.”
    The oily bit of charcoal-smudged cloth floated down the stone face of the Palace of Kotal and landed in the dusty street of the market square. Just another piece of soiled refuse, another drop in a scummy sea of rubbish caught in the late-afternoon tide of merchants packing up their goods and heading home to family. Ahy-Me waited a few moments, casually scanning the men working hard in the elongating shadows. When she was sure the cloth was well overlooked, she walked toward it and, about six feet shy of the spot where it lay, dropped her small basket, first one handle and then the other, allowing the contents to fall to the ground with sufficient english to scatter broadly around her feet. She sighed, and took on the air of one bothered by the tedium of the spill. She squatted on the ground, picking up the various lost items as well as the small cloth, harrumphing as she went.
    She stood, casually brushed herself off, and continued walking toward the market’s main gate. Outside, she stopped in a deep shadow and rummaged around in her basket, a motion that looked for all the world as if she was organizing and balancing its contents. It was all she could do to not pull the dirty white cloth up to eye level and devour the words written there. She prayed that Verdu had sent her a plan, a list of instructions for how to free him. If not that, she hoped for a message that assured her he was whole and staying strong, a confirmation that the Pramuc and the others, too, were, to the best of his knowledge, alive and well.
    Her training was overcome by her curiosity and need. She squatted down and balanced the basket on her knees, spreading the cloth flat but out of sight from any passersby, well below the lip of the basket. Glancing around, she saw no one was paying any mind to her and her wee basket. She started to read:
     
    A right and proper thing it is for me to set down a record of the great events I have witnessed, the prophecies that have been fulfilled, and the words that have come…
     
    What the hells . . . , she thought to herself, and the roar of Pranav Erato’s thoughts cut through her own like giddy lightning.
    BRILLIANT! He shouted in Ahy-Me’s head so loudly that she flinched and sent the contents of the basket flipping into her lap . Grab that rag and get back here. NOW!
    Seconds later, the only sign of Ahy-Me’s passing in the market was a small overturned basket hidden in the shadows and a trail of dusty footprints sprinting away from the gate.
     
     

 
     
     
    chapter 8
    Binding
     
     
    Silently calculating the estimated yield per acre with and without soil amendments for beans and comparing them to melons, factoring in the differences in proteins and other vital nutrients, Candice’s temper was held in check as she walked into the lobby of the Musser Point Inn. On the one hand, she could not blame Chenda for taking her