Page 107 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Eravin stepped out of the tent. “Hurry now.”
His guards were nowhere to be seen. A few other people milled about, but none paid too much attention. Kase raised a brow. “Not a bullet to the head this time, or have you already moved the bodies?”
He tried to appear confident and nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight tremor in his voice on the last word. All he could think about was the Cerl from the Jayde Center. If the Cerl had truly destroyed the city as Eravin had said, he deserved the consequences for his choice, but a trial would’ve been more appropriate.
Eravin chuckled as he led Kase away from the tent prison. He didn’t acknowledge Kase’s anxiety, for which he was grateful, but he wasn’t sure if it was purposeful or if it would come back to haunt him later. Kase barely heard his answer over the swell as they entered the tunnel proper. “Resorting to violence gets a little tiresome if it’s my only recourse.”
“One World not paying you enough? Or are you having to assassinate people on the side?”
“Why? You in the market for an assassin?”
“No.”
Eravin sighed. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Your little nanny guards were simply persuaded that they wanted a drink at one of the pop-up taverns someone’s got going. They’ll probably get their comeuppance once the Stradat Lord Kapitan finds they’ve shirked their responsibilities for alcohol.”
“So you paid them off?”
“I cannot reveal all my secrets, Shackley.”
They continued through the corridors and byways, past moss-choked crevices crawling up the walls like reaching hands and dozens of huddled groups, the oil lamps leaving a lingering metallic taste on the air.
Gas lanterns became more and more sporadic as the camps grew more and more desolate. Instead, small campfiresbegan to take root, cloaking the smaller crypt-like caverns in a smell of thick smoke.
Not wise. But when Eravin led him around a crumbling hole in the floor, he looked up to see the night sky slipping through another crack in the ceiling above. It only made him feel moderately better about the situation.
A haunting song drifted from a tent they passed, a woman singing an old melody Kase remembered from his own childhood.
We come from the stars
Those who came here before
And we left all that is ours
In the wand’ring days of yore…
His mother used to sing it to him and Ana after the nanny had failed to put them to bed. Ana’s fear of the dark always brought her to Kase’s chamber sooner or later, and Kase’s mother would sing them both to sleep.
Eravin led Kase to an alcove where two men sat, a lantern set on a small ledge above them. The light cast soft shadows upon their faces—too familiar, if haggard, and in desperate need of sleep.
The first was Neville Thatcher. In school, the girls had swooned over his chiseled jaw and warm brown eyes. They were no longer warm. The other was Waylan Peters, his light brown skin wan in the weak gaslamp light. He smiled at Kase first. “When Eravin said you were back in town, I didn’t believe it, but I’d heard the rumors, of course.” He stood and held out a hand for Kase to shake. “Neville here just lost a bet that you wouldn’t show your face down here if you knew what was good for you.”
Neville didn’t say anything.
Kase took Waylan’s outstretched hand and shook, but he felt a little awkward. Other than the few dinners or other inane social engagements Kase had been forced to attend over theyears, he hadn’t interacted with his old friends much. He hadn’t tried, and they hadn’t reached out. It had been a mutual thing, if unspoken. Kase gave him a forced, small smile. “Good to see you again.”
Neville shuffled cards and dealt them out. Eravin and Waylan took seats on the ground, Kase following suit. He surveyed the tunnel alcove they’d found themselves in. It reminded him a little of the dungeon he and Hallie had been imprisoned in at Achilles, but Hallie wasn’t there for him to kiss this time. He looked down at the cards. “I don’t have any money to bet with.”
He doubted they did either, judging by their states. Waylan grinned again and tossed out weary and crinkled parchment scraps. “We’ve been playing with these—and with secrets. Loser has to spill.” He laughed a little. “The poor bloke who challenged us not ten minutes before you showed up hightailed it out of here when he lost his round. My guess is he knew his wife would find out what he had to hide.”
Waylan distributed the parchment pieces, each torn in rough square shapes. One of Kase’s five looked more like a grotesque diamond. Tiny, printed words marred both sides. He caught the nameMondego. Another hadMarseilles.
He barely stopped himself from wincing. They’d ripped upThe Count of Monte Cristofor their game.
Eravin scooped his up. “Whether because of the game or he’s been spending too much time at the Houses, we’ll never know, but he had thatlookabout him.”
Visiting the Houses was what lower-class men did when they realized that they would always be lower class no matter how many hours they put in at the forge, quarry, or shops. It was a way to forget your life for a bit and spend the life savings that wouldn’t get you anywhere. The last few years of school, it’dbeen a big thing to sneak down to one of them. Kase had only gone once, just to see, but he hadn’t partaken in the…festivities.
Regardless, Jove had been the one to light into him about it, and Kase had felt guilty enough to never go again. As much as Jove drove him crazy, he did look up to his brother, and he’d felt properly ashamed after. It was a miracle that neither Harlan nor his mother ever found out.
