William Jones
Stories
10
Chapters
3,868
Words
2.6 M
Comments
0
Reading
8 d, 21 h
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People could be funny about death, Tristan thought. Dozens died in Sacromonte’s gutters every day and no one batted an eye, but if you tossed forty bodies on pyres and made people look at them suddenly it was the greatest tragedy in the world. Watching Isabel Ruesta bawling her eyes out the thief held back from rolling his own. Her admirers were already flocking to offer her sweet words of consolation, though he noticed they looked shaken too. That was the thing with nobles: they’d lived such pretty…-
560 •
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Teeth shattered most satisfyingly under her boot, the mantic whimpering as it fled. Angharad added a flourish to her wrist purely for effect, spearing the spirit from behind and nailing it to the deck before setting a fang-strewn boot on its head and ripping her saber clear. She flicked the ichor off the blade, eyes scanning the lower deck for enemies. Her comrade-in-arms did the same from her left, his own sword slick with black blood. “We’re past the worst of it,” Cozme Aflor decided. “The gun…
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560 •
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Tristan needed a way in. The infanzones had claimed a corner of the hold and were entertaining the sole foreigner they’d decided was worth their time, mere feet away but far beyond his reach. The thief did have to admit the Malani they’d picked was a fearsome specimen, with two inches of height on him and a build hinting she could handle that saber she was dragging around. Unlike the noblewoman he was unlikely to get invited for refreshments, however, so he’d have to find another angle. Fortunately…
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560 •
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They were waiting for her at Fishmonger’s Quay. Every street had a pair of redcloaks watching passers-by, forcing any hooded or veiled to show their faces before they were let through. Angharad, keeping to the alleys, saw how they compared the faces to small pieces of parchment. She was only able to get close enough to see it was a drawing, but that told her enough: her hunters knew what she looked like and where she was headed. Worried, Angharad decided on patience. She spent one of her last three…
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560 •
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The Bluebell was a sturdy old cog, its sail painted the black of the Watch. Tristan was the first to arrive, which went against him. The sailors on watch were asleep at their posts, napping on crates yet to be loaded, and they’d not been pleased to be woken up. Even less pleased had been their officer, a one-armed crone named Celipa who’d had to be fetched from her bed since she was the one with the roster. “You look like you’re fresh off the street, rat,” she glared. “You have the eyes of…
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560 •
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Angharad dropped to the ground as the shot sounded. The stranger who’d stood in front of her was not so quick and his face exploded in a shower of gore – Slowly, so that the sound would not give her away, Angharad unsheathed her saber as she crawled towards the edge of the stall that was her sole cover. She should look now, before her would-be assassin could reload their musket, but Angharad instead kept staring at the corpse of the man she had come here to meet. She found herself avoiding the sight…
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560 •
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None of the skeleton keys were working. The landlord must have sprung for good locks, which was admittedly rather sensible of the man considering that Tristan was currently trying to rob one of his patrons. “You should have started with the lockpicks,” Fortuna said. “Told you, didn’t I?” She was leaning against a dingy wall in the weak light of the sole lantern in the hallway, long red dress sweeping to the ground and her tone openly bored. She’d not lowered her voice in the slightest, which…
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560 •
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The general world map will expand from book to book, as the readers learn about the world. The latest map will be that of whichever is the current book. Vesper (Lost Things) Vesper (Good Treasons) Maps of specific locales will be added as required over the span of the…
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