7: Enemies and Shadows by Ginn Hale Read Free Book Online

had come with that knowledge.
    But he wasn’t sure how welcome the same revelation would be to Alidas. No man would want to discover that his god was on the opposing side of a war. It wasn’t so surprising that none of the gaun’im recognized Jath’ibaye as Parfir’s incarnation. They called him a demon or a profane Eastern sorcerer. But none of them would want to believe he was the Rifter.
    In the deep shadows of a huge pylon, Kahlil dropped out of the Gray Space. He strolled from the bridge towards the tightly packed streets of the Redbrick District. All along the walkways he saw clusters of women sitting at simple throwing wheels, turning wet lumps of rust-red clay into delicate cups.
    Stacks of glazed and fired dishes filled wooden tables. None of the women even met Kahlil’s glances. Brightly dressed sons and husbands proposed a variety of prices as Kahlil passed by. He declined with a polite smile. The deep blue suit he had borrowed from Saimura seemed to convey enough wealth to make the street sellers feel he was worth their time. More than one man followed him a little way, attempting to interest him in a variety of goods and services. Farther down on Water Street, bone vendors called to Kahlil in the same respectfully friendly tones. He glanced at their displays of carved dice and combs without much interest. The delicate knives carved from animal bones gave Kahlil a moment’s consideration. All of them were white, obviously untainted by curses. He wondered if anyone but him even knew how to curse bone blades anymore.
    A merchant noticed Kahlil’s gaze and quickly picked up one of the fine white knives. He smiled and offered it to Kahlil.
    “This one was carved from a Lisam bull’s thigh bone.” The balding man smiled knowingly at Kahlil. “It guarantees success with women.”
    Kahlil could not restrain a laugh at the notion that he would ever want success with women. He shook his head to decline the merchant’s offer.
    “But that’s no worry for a young man like you.” The merchant smoothly replaced the blade with another longer one. “But who doesn’t need a little luck with money these days?”
    “True,” Kahlil agreed. “In fact, I probably couldn’t afford that knife.”
    The merchant seemed about to make an offer but Kahlil cut him off.
    “What about something to defeat my enemies?” Kahlil asked. He couldn’t help but wonder what the merchant would present him with.
    “I’m no witch.” The merchant stiffened and narrowed his eyes piously at Kahlil. “We only deal in blessed bones here.”
    “Of course,” Kahlil replied. “I was just curious.” He stepped away and crossed the street before the merchant could say anything more.
    Many of the merchants displayed carved, blessed bones. All of them were in the form of knives. It amused Kahlil to look at them. Their origin as curse blades was so obvious and yet they were being sold as lucky trinkets. Kahlil couldn’t remember how many men he had killed with his own black curse blade. No doubt the mere sight of it would have horrified all these proper shopkeepers.
     As he walked on, the merchants and storefronts became more rare. The air began to thicken with the scents of animal carcasses and rendering kitchens. The tightly packed brick buildings lining the street reverberated with the noise of butchering saws. The bone talismans and fine leathers Kahlil had seen in so many store displays were no doubt being produced by the hundreds in the workhouses Kahlil now strode past. Kahlil turned and paced quickly back behind a bone carver’s shop. He stopped at the door of Alidas’ rooms.
    Kahlil couldn’t help but wonder why Alidas would rent rooms in this part of the city. It was filthy and loud and so close to the gallows that Kahlil suspected that some of the bone knives could have been carved from the remains of criminals. The noise and slaughterhouse odors could disguise any number of terrible deeds. Torture came quickly to