30 Storis, 1138
I should have known. The bridgekeeper hesitated when I asked directions.
I tried to convince myself that I only smelled a hearth, that the rutted road wasn’t from water tanks and pump carts, that if a building had burned, it wasn’t Rien’s, but I’m not that good a liar. No red Advocate’s door showed on the block, but there was a blackened pit.
“No. No, no,” I muttered, running forward with Bellacosa’s reins over my arm. “Where is she?” I demanded of the closest person, an Archilian priestess covered in wet soot. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 38 – 30 Storis 1138 Ragin”
29-30 Storis, 1138
I didn’t think I’d sleep after Bran left and the lock clicked, but once I turned the paste into slime, combed it into place and let it dry into a crisp approximation of a young man’s style, whatever had sustained me in getting here gave up. In fact, Bran was logically right — there was no reason anyone would look for me in his room, unless the Guard suspected my true crimes. Arson, murder, mutilating a corpse, flight from questioning, obstructing justice. At least. Despite those thoughts, my mind abdicated the moment I was flat. It wasn’t sleep so much as unconsciousness; restorative, it wasn’t. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 37 – 30 Storis 1138 Rien”
29 Storis, 1138
“Bran.” The voice came out of the dark and between my ears, though both were muddy and vague. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks, too much brandy and brooding.
No, it’s real, I decided, and shot upright. In the blackness of the storm, there was a shape just beyond the garden wall. Tall and thin, swathed in a pale coat. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 36 – 29 Storis 1138 Bran”