Page 179 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
But every once in a while, the itch came back, the tingling in his fingertips that begged for release.
The tunnel wall scraped his shirt as he leaned against it, arms crossed. He’d found his way back to the scene where he’d played Hanged Man’s Nebula. Sergeant had advised against it, but Kase didn’t care. He had business with his old friends. His fingers twitched involuntarily. A quick puff or two would’ve smoothed away his anxiety.
Sergeant had followed him anyway, even if he’d disagreed. He’d probably make good back-up. Maybe having him watch his every move could be a blessing, not a bother.
Or a little bit of both, at least.
Sergeant hadn’t interfered with his patrols yet, even if Kase flew a little longer than necessary. He’d also been unsuccessful in convincing the other pilots to join him, and he hadn’t had the courage to face or ask Laurence Hixon, the greenie Kase had dueled in the induction ritual months ago.
Well, there was a reason the others hadn’t been called in when the Cerls attacked.
Kase needed to hurry with this little rendezvous, because he had things to do. Things like finding Hallie and seeing if she could beg off whatever she was doing for a few hours. He thought she’d said something about training with Saldr, but Kase hadn’t been paying too much attention. He’d been too distracted by her lips.
Oh, and he also had a few patrols scheduled. Those were important.
But he had a purpose for being in this part of the Catacombs. Kase squatted next to an older gentleman wearing clothes that had seen better days. “The men who like to play Nebula over here. Have you seen them?”
“Not since two nights past.” The man was missing a few teeth. He gestured to a few other fellow refugees. “Didn’t like them much.”
“Why?”
The man scratched his red-bearded chin. “There’s two type of men who play the Nebula—the desperate and the idle. Most of us fit into the first. Those ones fit into the second.”
Kase stood again. He looked back at his shadow. Sergeant inspected the surroundings and people, scanning for trouble with a hand on the sword at his waist. He was listening, but he didn’t want to show it.
Kase chewed on the edge of his lip and made up his mind. “I think the men are part of One World. What have you heard of them?”
The old man coughed hard, his lung wheezing with each inhale. After he calmed down, he gave Kase a steely look. “Listened to some of them afore, and I would’ve agreed, but after they went ahead and betrayed us with those blasted Cerls…” He looked at a few of his fellow refugees, some which were leaning in. “It’s probably best those boys never show their face in these parts again.”
Well, at least Kase could agree with him on that. Still didn’t help him find Eravin. He held out his hand for the man to shake. “Best of luck to you, then.”
The man’s equally shaggy eyebrows rose into his mussed hair, but he shook his hand. Kase bowed as he continued down another tunnel.
He asked around until his feet hurt. He couldn’t check his pocket watch to see just how much time had passed, because he still hadn’t bothered to find himself a new one, but he knew Hallie would be expecting him soon, and he wanted to clean up a little before he saw her next.
Picking up his pace, he turned down a new tunnel, losing count of just how many he’d traversed. The only difference between them all was the state of the refugees. The closer one got to the central cavern, the less bedraggled the refugees’ clothing became—only because they’d started out looking much finer, though Kase was certain he’d spotted a lower-city councilman still donning his sleeping clothes.
Stopping a few times, he asked about Eravin and the others, but no one seemed to know who he was talking about. A few had spit when Kase mentioned his name rather than his description, though. Seemed as if Eravin’s little stint with One World had backfired. Too late to save Kyvena, of course. He didwonder if the capital would’ve still fallen if One World hadn’t taken root there.
If the people had known of the destruction to come, would they still have taken to the streets, protesting the Stradat Lord Kapitan and chanting for his death?
And Kase’s.
Only one person gave him anything to work with, though she narrowed her eyes at his approach. Kase swallowed his exhaustion and uneasiness.
“Good morning,” Kase greeted, giving her a tentative smile. The only indication she heard him was the subtle raise of her brow. “I’m looking for someone. Early twenties, close-cropped black hair, goes by Eravin. You seen him?”
The woman stared at him, eyes narrowing once more before she finally nodded. “Last night.”
“Where?”
She pointed in the direction of the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s tent. “Saw him sneaking round the central cavern while I was fetching rations. Listened to him preach a pretty sermon a few months back, but I didn’t take the bait.”
Kase started to thank her, but she interrupted him. “You look mighty familiar yourself. What did you say your name was?”
She noticed his guard for the first time and tilted her head. He shook his. “Thank you for your time—”
She grabbed his wrist. “You’re that Shackley boy. The one that burned the city, aren’t you?”
