The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer Read Free Book Online

seal marked with a familiar design of interlocking circles.
    My gut went cold. A missive from the Council? This couldn’t mean anything good.
    Martennan broke the seal and scanned the paper’s contents. His eyes widened before his expression smoothed back into its usual cheerful mask. The cold hole in my gut grew larger.
    Martennan balanced the letter on his flattened palm. His rings flared silver, and the letter vanished in a rush of pale flame.
    Damn. No chance of sneaking a look. “Show-off,” I muttered.
    The flame winked out, leaving not even ash behind. Martennan let his hand fall. “Thank you, adept. Tell Councilor Varellian I shall call upon her within the hour.”
    The little mage bowed so deeply her knot of braids brushed the flagstones before she dashed back into the Arcanum. After a brief, low-voiced exchange with the driver, Martennan herded me into the carriage and settled himself on the seat opposite.
    “Want to share what that was about?” I asked Martennan, as we rattled off.
    He slanted me an amused glance. “No. Though I have another letter I’d like to share with you.” He pulled another folded paper, this one unsealed, from within the front flap of his uniform and offered it to me.
    I took it warily. But when I opened the letter, my heart leaped. Cara’s bold handwriting sprawled over the page.
    To Captain Martennan of the Seventh Watch:
    You said you owed me a debt for warning you of Simon Levanian. If you’ve any shred of honor, you’ll see Dev gets this letter. He’s the one you truly owe, and he deserves news of home.
    A brief blank space, and then:
    Dev, you needn’t worry for me—I’m safe and sound in Ninavel. I’m writing this from the Blackstrike, listening to a bunch of drunk Varkevians try and outdo each other on tabis drums. They’re not very good. Reminds me of that stonemason two years back who thought it’d be fun to learn to play a shrike whistle while crossing the Whitefires. Thank Khalmet old Nuli saved our ears by tossing the damn thing off a cliff.
    Yeah, I remembered that trip. This truly was from Cara, then, and not some trick of Martennan’s. She must’ve sent it by one of the hard-riding merchant house couriers that traveled the Whitefire route in summer.
    I looked up your cousin. She and the kids are all fine. The oldest is growing fast. Your cousin thinks she might be ready to apprentice out by the end of the season. I’ll give them what coin I can, in your stead.
    So Red Dal’s den minder Liana thought Melly would reach her Change by summer’s end. I’d known her time was running out, but the confirmation still hit like a fist to the gut. Six weeks, maybe less, until Red Dal sold Melly off to men who’d force taphtha down her throat until she was nothing more than a compliant, empty-eyed jenny, her mind gone forever.
    Speaking of, I’d thought to find your drover friend, the one you’d said might buy your Whitefire maps, but he hasn’t yet returned from his convoy job. I tried to talk with his boss, but he’s apparently too busy a man to see a simple outrider like me. I’ll check with some of your other streetside friends, see if they’re interested.
    Oh, shit. I struggled to keep my face blank, my breathing even. Cara hadn’t found Pello, the shadow man who might’ve arranged Melly’s freedom in exchange for the full tale of Simon Levanian’s destruction. She’d tried to go direct to Lord Sechaveh, the ruler of Ninavel and the man Pello claimed as master. But without Pello to smooth the way, she’d likely been turned away by guardsmen who knew nothing of Sechaveh’s interest in our convoy trip.
    Now in desperation she meant to try and find someone in the employ of one of Ninavel’s streetside ganglords to act as a shadow broker. Ganglords dealt in information same as any other commodity. But while a ganglord would gladly sell Cara’s tale to Sechaveh, they’d also sell her out to Ruslan for the chance of profit on the side.
    I miss you,