Page 27 of Magick and Lead
The question caught me off guard. She was skeptical of my claim; I felt that. No rider could keep any emotion from their dragon, no matter how hard they tried to bury it. And maybe it was true that my feelings for Kit—Charlie—remained more complex than sheer hatred. Maybe I would extract an explanation from him. Maybe I’d make him apologize before I slit his throat. Still, nothing would change what I had come here to do.
His name is Charlie,I said. And yes, I will kill him.
I sensed Othura’s resolve rising to meet mine, and we plunged ahead into the dark.
I emerged from what the signs called asubway stationand stood in the middle of the walkway, turning a slow circle and staring up at the towering buildings all around me. Wonder almost overwhelmed me. It was like being at the bottom of a canyon, only the cliffs all had windows.
Motorcars rattled and rumbled and honked as they passed. Necromancer technology, I thought with a frown. The engines in those machines burned the remains of dead beings—a dark, forbidden sort of magick. And yet, seeing how casually everyone treated it here—the man climbing into the backseat of a yellowcar, the woman smiling from behind the wheel of a delivery truck—made it all feel less frightening, more ordinary.
The rain had stopped and the sun had come out, heating the flat, gray, stony surface that seemed to be everywhere and turning puddles to mist. The air smelled of excitement and possibility—with a hint of smoke and piss.
Signs hung from the buildings all around, painted in bright colors and emblazoned with strange words.Fizz-Fizz Cola. Pebbly Bites Breakfast Cereal. Bobby-O Athletic Shoes. Lava Motorcars.
People bustled everywhere. Men in Admite-style suits and shiny shoes walked fast, carrying rectangular bags—merchants, I guessed. An elegant woman in a long, flowing dress and a wide-brimmed hat with flowers on top followed a silky-haired dog on a leash. A man in suspenders with rolled-up shirt sleeves waved a handful of paper flyers, shouting:
“Big fight tonight! Micky the King versus Tree Trunk Louie!”
Another man with a burning stogie hanging out of the corner of his mouth winked at me. “Hey, toots. You lost? I could help you find your way.”
I glared at him, and he kept on walking.
A pair of young ladies strode arm-in-arm, talking excitedly to one another. One of them spotted me and giggled. “Bit early for All Hallows Eve, isn’t it, sweetie?” The other one cackled as they passed.
I looked down at myself. Those fool girls were right. My blue cloak and flying leathers did look incredibly out of place. Quickly, I ducked back down into the subway. I found a dingy bathroom and took off my cloak and breeches. Without them, my rider’s tunic looked at least somewhat like the short dresses the girls who mocked me had worn, though my knee-high fireproof riding boots would still stand out. I bundled the breeches into the cloak and stuffed them both into my satchel,along with my dagger. (My sword, I’d wisely left on my saddle with Othura. That would havereallystood out.)
Soon, I was back on the street, moving fast among the crowd. I drew less notice, but there were still far too many eyes lingering on me. Dragon leather armor and long, braided hair were not the styles here in Admar. And eyes were lingering on my missing arm, too. I wasn’t sure how far my fame extended here in Admar, but when Charlie had first laid eyes on me back in Maethalia, he’d immediately guessed that I was the one-armed Princess Essaphine. No one would expect to find me here, but between my subtle accent, my strange clothes, and my missing hand, people might start to wonder, and that was something I couldn’t have. If I expected to get close enough to Charlie to kill him, I’d need to blend in.
I spied a young man with a book in his hand walking toward me and planted myself in his path.
“Excuse me.”
He looked up from the book, and his eyes snapped wide at the sight of me. Yes… a better disguise was definitely in order. He was too stunned by my appearance to even respond.
“Where does a person go to trade things for money in this city?” I asked.
He frowned. “Uh…”
“A merchant. You know. To sell things and get a bit of coin for them,” I clarified.
“A…pawn shop?” He said the words slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. “There’s Mike’s around the corner. But the guy’s a prick.”
“Thank you!” I called over my shoulder, already hurrying on my way.
I found the place with little trouble. The storefront was dingy, with peeling paint and a crooked sign. Inside, odds and ends seemed to be stuffed everywhere. Musical instruments weresuspended from the ceiling, musty clothes hung on racks, old books tilted on sagging shelves, and glass cases full of baubles glinted beneath a patina of dust.
A heavyset, balding man sat behind the counter on a stool that seemed barely able to hold his weight. The cigarette in his mouth had burned down to a nub of ash and filled the place with a haze of smoke.
“Well, well, well,” he said when he saw me. “Would you look at this pretty little?—”
I held out my hand to him.
“Take this ring off my finger,” I commanded.
He looked surprised, even pleased by the invitation to touch me. Still, he hesitated, as if my invitation might be some trick.
“I can’t take it off with only one hand,” I explained, holding up the stump of my right arm.
This time, he reached forward and wiggled the ring off my finger. It was a precious thing, given to me by Auntie Dreya—another person whose whereabouts I didn’t know following the fall of Charcain. She’d given me the ring on my thirteenth birthday, as a reward for flying the Three Isles on Othura. But as much as I treasured it, my need now was greater. And I certainly couldn’t go around spending coins withKingdom of Maethaliastamped on them.
