The Blood Debt by Sean Williams Read Free Book Online

He stood up suddenly, knocking over the empty bottle of water.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, performing an awkward hop on one foot and turning pink. ‘I need — uh.’

    ‘Through there.’ Shilly realised before Sal did what Tom required and pointed to a curtained alcove. ‘I was wondering how much you could drink before you started to overflow.’

    Tom vanished behind the curtain. Sal grinned at the sustained splash and sigh of relief that followed, but his mind was too full of images old and new, of golems and midnight detonations, of Highson Sparre and dead Larson Maiz, of hiding places and family ties, to be distracted for long.

    Shilly caught his eye and held it. Her expression was very serious. He could tell that she had already decided what she wanted to do.

    ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

    ‘I’m trying not to.’

    ‘He’s your father.’ Her voice held a hint of reproach.

    ‘My father died in Fundelry before I ever met this man.’

    ‘Highson married your mother; he sired you. And he helped us escape from the Syndic.’

    Sal nodded. All true and relevant, especially the latter. Highson Sparre’s aunt, the most powerful woman in the Strand, had locked horns with Sal on more than one occasion. If she had had her way, he would still be studying in the Haunted City, fuelling her plans for advancement.

    ‘You know it’s the right thing to do.’ Her hand found his. ‘And besides, Tom dreamed we were involved. There’s nothing we can do about it now.’

    ‘If he’d left us alone, perhaps we wouldn’t be.’ He heard the petulance in his tone and hated it. The truth was that he didn’t feel ready to leave Fundelry, the fishing village he had lived in for five years after a life of constant travel. Part of him wondered if he would ever be ready to leave. Fundelry was safe: the dangers were known and familiar. He had no control over the outside world and the threats it contained; out there, he might have no control over himself, either.

    Only twice had he let his wild talent consume him. The eruption of rage he had set free had almost killed a man. Then, later, he had killed an ice-creature deep in the bowels of the Haunted City. Even though that had been in defence of Shilly, the potential for violence contained within him frightened him even more than the first time. His wild talent was like a large animal blundering about in a city; by its very nature, it was dangerous.

    But that wasn’t the fault of its nature. It was just out of place. In the right place, it wouldn’t be a problem. Sal simply hadn’t found out where that was yet.

    In Fundelry, with Shilly, he had learned to balance the wild talent and bend it to his will, but it was a truce he feared could be easily broken.

    ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We have to help. But I don’t like it. What’s Highson doing mucking around with a Homunculus in the middle of the night? What’s he brought into the world? What are we getting ourselves caught up in now?’

    She didn’t say anything, just leaned her head into his shoulder. He put an arm around her and held her, tasting an uncertainty he had thought long swallowed.

    * * * *

    A bell rang at lunchtime, apparently of its own accord. There were twelve strung in an elaborate mobile from the ceiling’s highest point. Each had a unique pitch and timbre, and each had an identical twin to which it was subtly linked. When one rang, no matter how far away, so would the twin.

    ‘That’s Thess,’ said Sal, looking up from the chart he and Tom were studying. ‘Do you want me to go?’

    Shilly shook her head. She had been laying out their clothes and other possessions in preparation for packing, finding herself amazed by how little they actually owned. Discounting the workshop and everything Lodo had left them, plus the occasional trinket the townsfolk insisted they take, they had only a few personal effects to call their belongings. Part of her found it sad that they could have