[Gentlemen Bastards 02] Red Seas Under Read Skies by Scott Lynch Read Free Book Online Page B

Pissants!” Jean pointed one of his hatchets at the little girl as he spoke. “You can’t scare us with this penny-theater bullshit!”
    “If you force us to,” said Locke, “we’ll fight you with the weapons in our hands, all the way to Karthain. You bleed like the rest of us. Seems to me all you can do is kill us.”
    “No,” said the girl, giggling.
    “We can do worse,” said the fruit seller.
    “We can let you live,” said the scorpion merchant.
    “Live, uncertain,” said the girl.
    “Uncertain…,” said the chorus of merchants as they began to step backward, widening their circle.
    “Watched,” said the girl.
    “Followed,” said the circle.
    “Now wait,” said the girl. “Run your little games, and chase your little fortunes….”
    “And wait,” whispered the chorus. “Wait for our answer.”
    “Wait for our time.”
    “You are always in our reach,” said the little girl, “and you are always in our sight.”
    “Always,” whispered the circle, slowly dispersing back to their stalls, back to the positions they’d held just a few minutes earlier.
    “You will meet misfortune,” said the little girl as she slipped away. “For the Falconer of Karthain.”
    Locke and Jean said nothing as the merchants around them resumed their places in the Night Market, as the lanterns and barrel fires gradually rose once more to flush the area with warm light. Then the affair was ended; the merchants resumed their former attitudes of keen interest or watchful boredom, and the babble of conversation rose up around them again. Locke and Jean slipped their weapons out of sight before anyone seemed to notice them.
    “Gods,” said Jean, shuddering visibly.
    “I suddenly feel,” Locke said quietly, “that I didn’t drink nearly enough from that bloody carousel.” There was mist at the edges of his vision; he put a hand to his cheeks and was surprised to find himself crying. “Bastards,” he muttered. “Infants. Wretched cowardly show-offs.”
    “Yes,” said Jean.
    Locke and Jean began to walk forward once again, glancing warily around. The little girl who had done most of the speaking for the Bondsmagi was now sitting beside an elderly man, sorting through little baskets of dried figs under his supervision. She smiled shyly as they passed.
    “I hate them,” whispered Locke. “I hate this . Do you think they’ve really got something planned for us, or was that just a put-on?”
    “I suppose it works either way,” said Jean with a sigh. “Gods. Strat péti . Do we flinch, or do we keep betting? Worst case, we’ve got a few thousand solari on record at the ’Spire. We could cash out, take a ship, be gone before noon tomorrow.”
    “Where to?”
    “Anywhere else.”
    “There’s no running from these assholes, not if they’re serious.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Fuck Karthain.” Locke clenched his fists. “You know, I think I understand? I think I understand how the Gray King could feel the way he did. I’ve never even been there, but if I could smash Karthain, burn the fucking place, make the sea swallow it…I’d do it. Gods help me, I’d do it.”
    Jean suddenly came to a complete stop.
    “There’s…another problem, Locke. Gods forgive me.”
    “What?”
    “Even if you stay…I shouldn’t. I’m the one who should be gone, as far from you as possible.”
    “What the fuck nonsense is this?”
    “They know my name!” Jean grabbed Locke by his shoulders, and Locke winced; that stone-hard grip didn’t agree with the old wound beneath his left clavicle. Jean immediately realized his mistake and loosened his fingers, but his voice remained urgent. “My real name, and they can use it. They can make me a puppet, like these poor people. I’m a threat to you every moment I’m around you.”
    “I don’t bloody well care that they know your name! Are you mad?”
    “No, but you’re still drunk, and you’re not thinking straight.”
    “I certainly am! Do you want to