Low Town by Daniel Polansky Read Free Book Online Page A

wearing had only been in contact with her a short time, that might do it as well. It’s not my specialty—I’m not really certain.”
    The odor I had smelled on the girl’s body could have been a cleaning agent. It could have been a dozen other things as well, but this gave me something to go on.
    “That’s a start at least.” Having gathered the nerve to return I found myself reluctant to leave. Part of me wanted to sit down in his soft blue chair and let it envelop me, to share a cup of tea with my old mentor and speak of days past. “I appreciate your help. And I appreciate you receiving me. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
    “I hope you find the person who did this, and I hope this isn’t the last time you visit. I’ve missed you, and the trouble you track to my door—like a stray cat with a dead pigeon.”
    I returned his smile and made a move for the exit, but his voice stopped me, suddenly stern. “Celia wants to see you before you leave.” I tried not to flinch at her name but suspect I failed. “She’s in the conservatory. You still remember the way.” It was not a question.
    “How is she?”
    “She’s up to be commissioned to First Rank in a few weeks. It’s quite an honor.”
    Sorcerer First Rank was the highest grade a practitioner could receive, held by perhaps twenty artists in the realm, all of whom had performed noble services in the interests of the country—or had done the right favors for the right people. The Crane was entirely correct: it was quite an honor, especially at Celia’s age. It was also not at all what I had been asking. “And how is she?”
    The Crane’s eyes fluttered away and I had the only answer I needed. “Fine,” he said. “She’s … fine.”
    I made my way back down the steps, stopping in front of a clouded glass door a level beneath the summit. I resisted the temptation to reach into my coat for a sniff of breath. Better to do this quick, and sober.
    The conservatory was beautiful, like everything in the Aerie. Cultivatedplants from across the Thirteen Lands thrived in its sultry environs, flowering in a spectrum of colors that complemented the blue stone of the walls. Bright violet strands of queen’s fingers jutted out against vines of orange drake’s skin; fierce blossoms of Daeva’s posies cast their scent throughout the room; and stranger things still thrived in the damp hothouse heat.
    She heard me come in but didn’t stop what she was doing, tending a small fern in the corner with a decanter of filigreed silver. A blue dress pulled tight across the bottom of her back and stopped just below the thigh, though as she stood straight it eased its way down to her knee. She turned to meet me and I caught a first glimpse of her face, familiar despite the time apart, soft brown hair above dark almond eyes. Hugging the curves of her honey-colored neck was a cheap necklace, a lacquered wooden medallion with a strand of twine running through it, Kiren characters emblazoned on the front.
    “You’re returned.” It wasn’t clear from her tone how she felt about it. “Let me look at you.” She brought her hands up near my face, as if to caress or slap me. Either would have been appropriate. “You’ve aged,” she said finally, opting for the former, running her fingers over my calloused hide.
    “They say time does that,” though whereas the years had withered my features and scored my face, for her the effects had been nothing but positive.
    “That’s what they say.” As she smiled I saw something of the girl she had been in the open and friendly way she looked at me, in the speed with which she forgave my absence, in the light she radiated instinctively and without deliberation. “I visited the Earl every day for a month after you left Black House. Adolphus said you were out. He kept saying it. After a while I stopped coming.”
    I didn’t respond, neither to amend her belief as to how I’d left the Crown’s service or to explain my