Cinda Chima - The Exiled Queen

Raisa bit back a harsh response. After all, Nightwalker had just saved her from . . . Gillen, for a start. But she didn’t like the suggestion that she was running away.

Wasn’t that just what she was doing? Shouldn’t she stay and hold her ground? When she was queen, she wouldn’t be able to run from conflict.

When she said nothing, Reid pressed on, encouraged by her silence. “Given the dangers here, it may seem safer in the flatlands, but that is an illusion. Away from the protection of the camps, you will be vulnerable to flatlander assassins.”

“It is not my own safety I’m worried about,” Raisa snapped. “I do not intend to start a war. We can’t afford it right now. It would tear the country apart.”

“It’s time to teach the jinxflingers a lesson,” Reid said. “We cannot continue to appease them while they trample over—”

“If I meant to appease wizards, I would be married by now,” Raisa interrupted. “I will protect the Gray Wolf line. But I will not choose between my parents. I will allow time for cooler heads and good sense to prevail.”

“It seems to me the Princess Raisa has made her intentions clear,” Amon said. “If there’s nothing else, we need to get back and break camp before nightfall.”

Reid stared at Amon for a long moment. Then turned to Raisa and inclined his head. “Of course, Your Highness. I just wanted you to know that you have options. Naturally, we would be honored to escort you back to your camp.”

He swung around to Digging Bird, who was watching this exchange with intense interest and not a little surprise.

She’s probably never seen anyone say no to Nightwalker before, Raisa thought.

“Round up the loose horses,” Reid ordered Digging Bird. “Find suitable mounts for Princess Raisa and Corporal Byrne.”

Reid Demonai would be happy to see a war, Raisa realized. It’s what he lives for.

Chapter Four Delphi Chapter Four - Delphi Chapter Five - Into The Fens Chapter Six - Flatland Demons Chapter Seven - On The Road Again Chapter Eight - Oden’s Ford Chapter Nine - The Road West Chapter Ten - Cadet Chapter Eleven - Mystwerk House Chapter Twelve - Raised from the Dead Chapter Thirteen - Charmcasting for Beginners Chapter Fourteen - Dean’s Dinner Chapter Fifteen - Friends And Enemies Chapter Sixteen - A Meeting With The Dean Chapter Seventeen - In Mystwerk Tower Chapter Eighteen - Abelard’s Crew Chapter Nineteen - Caught In The Act Chapter Twenty - Star-Crossed Chapter Twenty-One - A Vermin Problem Chapter Twenty-Two - The Waking Dream Chapter Twenty-Three - A Meeting Of Exiles Chapter Twenty-Four - News From Home Chapter Twenty-Five - Blueblood Ways Chapter Twenty-Six - Dangerous Dancing Chapter Twenty-Seven - When Dreams Turn to Nightmares Chapter Twenty-Eight - Word from Home Chapter Twenty-Nine - A Babe in the Woods Chapter Thirty - This Rough Magic Chapter Thirty-One - Betrayal Chapter Thirty-Two - Shifting Alliances Chapter Thirty-Three - Matrimony or Murder Chapter Thirty-Four - Shoulder Taps Chapter Thirty-Five - Old Friends Chapter Thirty-Six - Detours Chapter Thirty-Seven - A Parting of the Ways Keep Reading Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом. By Cinda Williams Chima About the Publisher

Mountain towns are all different, Han thought.

Mountain towns are all the same.

Geography drives architecture in a mountain town. In Delphi, the houses and other buildings were jammed together, like they’d slid down the slopes and jumbled into the available space along the river.

Houses built onto a hillside are deceiving: short one- stories at the back, and tall four- stories at the front. They reminded Han of brightly painted fancy girls that had seen better days. They backed into the mountainside and spread their long skirts down to the valley floor, their dirty petticoats in the gutters. The streets were narrow and tangled and cobbled with stone— a material plentiful and cheap in the mountains.

Forced into the rocky Kanwa canyon, the streets veered drunkenly around the smallest obstacles— sometimes losing their way entirely.

It was fully dark when they finally descended into the town. A choking pall of smoke thickened the air, requiring extra effort to breathe.

“It stinks worse than Southbridge,” Han said, wrinkling his nose. A different, unfamiliar stink, at least.

“They burn coal for heat and cooking here,” Dancer explained. “The smoke gets trapped in the valley. It’s worse in winter— the fires burn night and day.”

There was money in town. Intermingled with stores and businesses and more modest dwellings were street- front palaces and rich- looking row houses. Some of the houses occupied entire city blocks, faced with kilned brick and carved stone.

“Mine owners,” Dancer explained. “But even the miners make good money. The war in Arden has stoked the market for iron and coal, and prices are high. Lightfoot says the Delphians don’t mind the stinking air. They say they’re breathing money. It’s allowed them to keep their own army and stay independent of both Arden and the Fells.”

As they neared the center of town, the streets clogged up with people, reminding Han of Fellsmarch on market day.

It was a diverse crowd— black- skinned men and women from Bruinswallow, clad in the loose, striped clothing of the southerners. Southern Islanders with their dark skin, elaborate jewelry, and tangles of black hair. Leggy Northern Islanders with fair hair and blue eyes, some haloed with auras. Multiple languages collided in the streets, and exotic music poured from inns and taverns.

There was more evidence of wartime prosperity— elegant shops with all manner of trade goods; jewelry stores with glittering displays, take- away food stores with exotic offerings and intriguing, spicy smells. Han’s stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.

“Let’s find something to eat,” he said, resisting the temptation to nick a twist of salt bread from a street vendor. Hunger always seemed to bring out his old habits, but he knew better than to do slide- hand in unfamiliar territory, with no escape route laid out.

You don’t need to steal to eat, he reminded himself, touching the money pouch tucked inside his leggings as if it were a talisman.

Farther south, the city seemed darker than Fellsmarch. Everything was layered with a veneer of soot that soaked up light.

“Don’t they have lamplighters here?” Han asked, as their tired ponies plodded through a splash of light spilling from a narrow storefront church skirted on three sides with tall steps. A black- robed cleric with a golden rising sun emblazoned on his robes swept leaves and dirt out of the doorway, sending debris raining down on their heads.

Dancer shook his head. “No lamps, nor lamplighters,” he said. He fingered his amulet, conjuring a blossom of light on the tips of his fingers while Han looked on enviously. Han touched his own flashpiece, and power sizzled down his arm, exploding in flames that rocketed halfway across the street, startling passersby.

Embarrassed, Han tucked his offending hand under his other arm.

“Demons!” someone shouted in the Common speech. “Sorcerors! Blasphemers!” Han looked up in surprise to see the black- robed priest charging down the steps, swinging the broom over his head like a weapon, his face contorted with rage.