Stardeep by Bruce R. Cordell Read Free Book Online

dark, and smoky. Men diced away their salaries and drank through their sorrows. Above the slanted roofs, Raidon spied the top of the towering Shou Town Gate. Getting his bearings from the landmark, he ran north down the narrow avenue, the daito extended behind him so he wouldn’t alarm onlookers. He received a few curious stares. The Nine Golden Swords would soon know he’d gone this way.
    And whete was he going? He hadn’t thought about it, and without conscious direction, his body was directing him back to the odiferous room he rented. If he’d planned ahead, he would have headed toward Xiang Temple. He recalled it fondly: brightly painted on the outside, wteathed in incense smoke so strong it brought tears to the eyes of the uninitiated. The temple was a sanctuary for the common person. Especially a person who had graduated its exacting training.
    But Xiang was in the opposite ditection across Shou Town. Better to continue toward his lodging. In fact, the Nine
    Golden Swords probably expected him to flee to the temple. They might have an ambush set up, anticipating that response. He would be wise to stay away. He’d collect his things from his apartment and leave. He had no future in Telflamm. His mother had departed, his father was dead, and he had no siblings. He’d completed his training at the Xiang Temple, discharged his duty to the master. He had no debts to keep him in the city. But where would he go?
    Raidon arrived at the three-story tenement and climbed the outer stairs to the top floor room he shared. The door was open. Good. Perhaps the chamber would be aired out—
    A man flew from the open door, a staff in his grip. His tattooed hand proclaimed his Golden Swords allegiance, though Raidon could hardly discern it through the blood that streaked the man’s hands and forearms. What had he been up to?
    The newcomer stabbed at Raidon’s neck with the staff’s sharp butt. Raidon deflected it with his left forearm, making a wide circle. He held the daito in his right hand—he could better defend himself if he dropped the blade, but he couldn’t bring himself to dishonor the implement he’d spent so many months recovering. Instead, he grasped the wrapped tsuka and brought the blade up.
    A daito wasn’t the perfect weapon to defend against a staff wielder, who had longer reach. But Raidon’s advantage was his ability to put his mind outside his body. When he could coolly observe a conflict, he could take in every variable, every possibility, and react in a way most likely to end the conflict quickly in his favor.
    Raidon feinted and stepped back, then again. The staff wielder advanced, encouraged by Raidon’s backpedaling, jabbing with the probing end of the long wooden rod. When the man tried to push him off the walkway’s edge, Raidon wove the end of the daito around the advancing pole, allowing the
    end to push into his space, but avoiding its tip. He hooked the staff and pulled, stepping to the side. The staff and its wielder flew off the three-story walkway.
    He couldn’t afford the time to watch the result of his maneuver. He dashed into his lodge, on guard for other Golden Swords. But the only one present was Huang. What was left of him.
    He had never liked Huang, but he regretted the man’s end. His lodge mate was staked to the wall, his extremities removed by a hatchet, which lay on the floot amid the awful mess. Raidon pulled his focus even further from his body to avoid reacting. Time was too precious to mourn Huang, or lose the tea he’d consumed to nausea.
    Everything was in shambles, but Raidon found the pack he’d secreted behind the wall panel undisturbed. He’d prepared it a few tendays ago, in case his petition was granted and he penetrated the Nine Golden Swords compound. That hadn’t happened; fate had stepped in and delivered his target early. The pack contained some food, a small tea kettle and four cups, an expensive packet of loose Long Jing tea, a pouch of coins, a change of