Ecko Endgame by Danie Ware Read Free Book Online Page A

His skin shifted with the shadows of the great hall. “Chrissakes, what the hell happened to you? Karine was like, I dunno, your fucking kid, your daughter. Jeez, thought
I
was fucked up—”
    “Quiet.” Roderick’s look should have flayed skin from bone. He looked back down at the pitifully aged woman. “The time for riddles is past. Tell me, where did this come from?”
    “
She
, where did
she
come from.” Ecko’s adrenaline was still singing along his nerves. He found himself halfway over the seat itself, staring down at the Bard, incredulous. “Chrissakes, I’m the sane one now? What the hell did Mom do to you?”
    While you were screaming.
    Down there in the dark.
    Heat pulsed through the Bard’s throat like tension. He didn’t answer.
    But Ecko had found his voice now, his release. The words were a torrent of force, catharsis and fury, and he couldn’t hold them back. He crouched in the Lord’s seat, an old embroidered cushion under his shoes, and aimed himself at the Bard’s black hood.
    “What the hell’s goin’ on here, anyhow? You come back from Mom’s lair and – bam! – you’re the supernasty? You got the black hat? You’re the one with all the
tech
, now?” The word was an accusation – he was being childish and he knew it, but he didn’t fucking
care.
“One day-trip ticket to the London Underground, two rounds with Mom’s operating table, and hey whaddaya know, you’re a new man!”
    The strike was casual, a backhand slap. But it was so quick that, even adrenalised as he was, even with his targetters tracking, the Bard’s fingers caught him. The impact didn’t hurt, but the sound rang, inside and out, smarting. And the fact that it’d made contact at all…
    Ecko spat outrage. “You fucking
dare—
!”
    “I said, quiet.”
    “Fuck
you
.”
    “
Enough!
” Nivrotar’s voice rang from the dark vaults of the roof. Like children they subsided, glaring.
    Cold as winter wind, she said, “There is no combat in my presence without my word. I see grief, I see envy – I understand. But these things will not be aired in here.” She added no threat, no warning of punishment or consequence – she had no need to. Instead she came to stand by Karine, the light making hollows of her perfect white cheeks. She turned to look back up at them. “We must understand this. Control yourselves, all of you, and tell me how this… atrocity… came to occur in my city.”
    “Outta my ass.” Ecko’s snipe was not aimed at anyone in particular.
    “This is no jest.” The Lord’s voice was calm; she looked from one face to another. “Only the Kas – or those crafted from them – drain time.” She cocked an eyebrow at Roderick. “Vahl may be gone, but the Varchinde is in pieces, the cities in turmoil. Blight eats our crops and we know not its source. Fhaveon lies gutless and ruined, the Council is broken. And if there are creatures of this ability within my city walls, should I just part my thighs and let them ravage me?” The sentence was delivered without a flicker of humour or vulnerability. “How comes this discovery? If Vahl lives again, if his craftings walk the streets of Amos, then I
will
know.”
    Amethea shook her head, her denial deeper than just disbelief. She was grey-pale, like ash, her body temperature too low; sheer bloody-mindedness was keeping her on her feet.
    She said, “Karine was with me yesterday, yesterday morning. She went to secure supplies, herbs, food – she was helping. No one haggles like Karine.” Her smile was brief, sad. “Couple of guards brought her back. I tried…” her voice cracked and she looked up at the Lord of Amos, blinking “…I tried to understand, I really tried. But how – where – no one knew. The bazaar was heaving, no one saw a thing.”
    “No one ever does.” Triqueta’s comment was bleak.
    “Vahl’s
gone
,” Amethea rounded on her friend, plaintive, angry, defiant. “Rhan won, Fhaveon’s free – the bretir came with