Quartz by Rabia Gale Read Free Book Online Page A

laughed and clapped Rafe’s shoulder.
    “It is. There are no tricks to fire eating. Just a high tolerance for pain.”
    “And a quick slathering of salve,” added Isabella.
    Rafe thought about this. “You didn’t tell me about this earlier.”
    “Didn’t want to worry you. You had to do it and there’s not much you can do about the pain.” Burgess shrugged. “It’s over now. You did well.”
    “Do I get to go to bed now?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, though tone was hard to control in his current state. Once in his tent he could sneak out from under Isabella’s watchful eye.
    “No,” said Isabella. “You’ve been living in the forsaken Barrens. You haven’t had good beer or seen a woman or stuffed your face with sweetcakes in weeks. You need to be out ogling and fingering and wasting your money on overpriced, poor-quality trinkets.”
    “And women?”
    She eyed him somberly. “That is none of my business. Just make a good showing of yourself.”
    “And would I find such things in Moon Alley? From a man named Pyotr, maybe?”
    Her eyebrows arched. “Perhaps. I can take you.”
    “Or draw me a map?” he suggested.
    “No. After your interaction with Karzov, I think it’s better if you had a minder.”
    It hurt him to say it—say anything for the matter—but he couldn’t stop it. “So burning my mouth was not enough? Now I have to spend my money, too? Where am I getting money from, anyhow?”
    Isabella glanced at Burgess, who folded his arms and looked forbidding. She shrugged. “I can loan you some.”

Chapter Four
Blackstone
    B Y THE TIME R AFE and Isabella were in the marketplace, the heady rush that had sustained him through the flight from the theater, the encounter with Karzov, and the performance had subsided. Combined with the lack of sleep and a growing nostalgia for Oakhaven, its absence made Rafe feel dull, cold, and small. The Blackstone New Year celebrations were dismally nonfestive. Selene, whose dawning they ostensibly celebrated, was a shiny pebble in the dark sky, barely glimpsed behind the buildings that pressed in upon the open space, threatening to take it over by collapsing on it.
    Where was the grand and gorgeous Parade of Animals? The rows of stalls jangling and glittering with jewelry, scarves, trinkets? The girls with their beaded hair and flowing antique skirts? The Shimmer megalamps that flooded whole streets with light? Blackstone’s celebrations included a couple of ragged birds hiding their heads under wings and an old monkey cowering in a corner of its cage as onlookers poked sticks at it. Every second gas lamp was turned off. The food and drink was all the same—soup that was more broth than anything else, dark chewy bread with dried cranberries, and weak ale. The uniformly-dressed citizens paid for the food with tokens—and there were no second helpings.
    Unsurprisingly, the performers hadn’t been given any tokens. Blackstone was not known for its generosity.
    To someone used to the exuberance and extravagance of Oakhaven’s New Year, this was a grim affair indeed. Rafe felt as if he were in a cracked bell, watching corpses walk about. It was hollow and tinny and somehow unreal.
    He fingered cheap beaded bracelets and stared unseeing at stacks of plates and rows of jugs, while desperately-grinning sellers leaned over him. Perhaps he ought to get something for his sister Bryony, some memento to prove his story true, something he could pull out and say, “Aha! See, I really was in Blackstone, on the run, disguised as an itinerant performer!”
    If he got out of here alive, he’d have a story to make her smile. Uncle Leo would dismiss his firedancing stint with a wave, but Bryony would see the humor in it. Her life held little laughter as it was. Her mistress, the old Marchioness, worked her hard and paid her little. If only the Queen would approve Bryony’s appointment to her own household…
    He had to get home. Bryony had no other