Shadow's End
Page 15
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He laughed gently and banked, and the entire panoramic landscape spun below her. I’m not sure of the exact address, but Malfeasance is somewhere on the street below. We’ll have to walk the length to find it.
Disappointment pulsed. Their flight had only just begun, and the experience was so joyous, she didn’t want it to end. “We can’t be there already.”
She had a sudden, passionate desire to forget about all her troubles and leave them behind.
To tell him to keep flying. Keep flying and never stop.
Traveling by flight is quite a bit faster than it would be if we had to contend with the traffic in the streets, he said. It’s also much more direct. Hold on.
His prosaic words grounded her back into her body. He wheeled in great circles, so that they descended at a slow, careful pace. She sensed he did so for her sake, not for his. She had seen how eagles could plummet when they were in search of prey, and how cats could pounce with breathtaking speed. He embodied the best qualities of both creatures.
After coasting a short distance, he landed behind a derelict, dark building, in another alleyway. Her legs shook so badly when she slid to the ground, she had to lean against him before she could stand on her own. He held steady, with no sign of impatience, until she moved away.
When she turned to face him, he had already shapeshifted back into a man. Without a word, he offered his arm to her again. After pulling the hood over her head once more, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they stepped onto the street.
Bel had never explored this part of the city. She saw that she hadn’t missed much. An acrid stench came from piles of refuse, while prostitutes plied a busy trade and raucous laughter spilled from taverns. Street toughs watched passersby with sharp smiles and predatory eyes.
As she took in the scene from the fragile privacy within the cloak’s hood, she had a sudden, deep pang of longing for the fresh, clean air and green scents of her Wood. Her Wood was wild and sentient, and while it wasn’t always a safe place for strangers to wander, it was the child of her Power, her hearth and home.
She also noted how a few of the sharp, edgy men eyed her and Graydon. Their gazes lingered on Graydon’s height and bulk, and the men left them alone.
They were fools to only take Graydon into consideration. If she had come here alone, she could have handled them, but that might have indeed brought her unwanted attention, so she was glad she didn’t have to.
“There,” Graydon said suddenly.
The sound of his voice made her jump. This place gnawed at her nerves. “What?”
He inclined his head. She looked in the direction of his nod to a plain building that was in much better repair than its neighbors. A single letter M hung above a doorway that was guarded by two hulking Orcs.
She sighed. She hated Orcs.
“I don’t understand how he could stomach coming to such a place,” she muttered as they strode toward the building.
Graydon sounded as grim as she felt. “If he’s caught in the throes of a gambling addiction, then he may not have had much choice. This might be the only place that would run him a line of credit.”
A combination of anger and despair made her clench her teeth. As they grew closer to the building, she switched to telepathy. I don’t know how to help him, and I can’t keep bailing him out. Each time the debt grows higher and higher. Sooner or later, he’s going to come to his father’s attention.
If that happened, Calondir would react as he always did when he was confronted with a situation that made him angry. When he lost his temper, he could be verbally abusive. Sometimes he lashed out physically.
The thought caused her stomach to clench. Calondir never lashed out at her, not after she had threatened to cut off his hands and had left him. That had happened many years ago. For a very long time now, they had existed in two separate spheres emotionally, and they only came together to work on demesne issues.
Ferion was a different matter. Throughout his childhood, she had worked to protect him from his father, but now that he was an adult, she could no longer be present every time he met with Calondir. All she could do was try to keep Calondir from finding out.
You can’t make Ferion quit, Bel, Graydon told her gently. I’ve seen it with people who can’t stop drinking. Ferion is the only person who can make him quit. He has to hit bottom, whatever that might mean to him, and he has to choose at a fundamental level to change.
Her gaze dampened. She said, One step at a time. For tonight, I’ll just be glad to get him out of here.
The Orc guards watched but did nothing as they reached the door. When Graydon opened it, heat, light and noise poured out. Squaring her shoulders, Bel stepped inside and he followed.
In contrast to the air of general decay outside, the interior was decorated with plush carpets and paintings. A variety of scents assaulted her nose – liquors, a clash of perfumes, the grease from cooked meats, and unwashed bodies.
Smoke hung in the air, both tobacco and hashish. Music played somewhere, competing with shouts, loud conversation and coarse laughter.
The place was packed with both humans and those of the Elder Races. While some women were scattered throughout, the majority of the clientele was male.
Most stayed focused on the game they played, but several glanced at them curiously. In direct contrast to what had happened in the street, the males’ attention lingered on her cloaked, hooded figure.
Graydon moved so close, she could feel the brush of his muscular body at her side. His energy had grown darker and bristled with aggression.
The only way to get through this was, well, to get through it. Squaring her shoulders, she strode through the first room.
Soon, she was sweltering. The loud sights and sounds assaulted her senses, and the confinement of the heavy cloak became intensely uncomfortable.
She couldn’t seem to draw in a deep breath, and the thick, overly scented air caught at the back of her throat. Her heart pounded in hard, heavy slugs, and she longed to shove the hood away from her face.
Disappointment pulsed. Their flight had only just begun, and the experience was so joyous, she didn’t want it to end. “We can’t be there already.”
She had a sudden, passionate desire to forget about all her troubles and leave them behind.
To tell him to keep flying. Keep flying and never stop.
Traveling by flight is quite a bit faster than it would be if we had to contend with the traffic in the streets, he said. It’s also much more direct. Hold on.
His prosaic words grounded her back into her body. He wheeled in great circles, so that they descended at a slow, careful pace. She sensed he did so for her sake, not for his. She had seen how eagles could plummet when they were in search of prey, and how cats could pounce with breathtaking speed. He embodied the best qualities of both creatures.
After coasting a short distance, he landed behind a derelict, dark building, in another alleyway. Her legs shook so badly when she slid to the ground, she had to lean against him before she could stand on her own. He held steady, with no sign of impatience, until she moved away.
When she turned to face him, he had already shapeshifted back into a man. Without a word, he offered his arm to her again. After pulling the hood over her head once more, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they stepped onto the street.
Bel had never explored this part of the city. She saw that she hadn’t missed much. An acrid stench came from piles of refuse, while prostitutes plied a busy trade and raucous laughter spilled from taverns. Street toughs watched passersby with sharp smiles and predatory eyes.
As she took in the scene from the fragile privacy within the cloak’s hood, she had a sudden, deep pang of longing for the fresh, clean air and green scents of her Wood. Her Wood was wild and sentient, and while it wasn’t always a safe place for strangers to wander, it was the child of her Power, her hearth and home.
She also noted how a few of the sharp, edgy men eyed her and Graydon. Their gazes lingered on Graydon’s height and bulk, and the men left them alone.
They were fools to only take Graydon into consideration. If she had come here alone, she could have handled them, but that might have indeed brought her unwanted attention, so she was glad she didn’t have to.
“There,” Graydon said suddenly.
The sound of his voice made her jump. This place gnawed at her nerves. “What?”
He inclined his head. She looked in the direction of his nod to a plain building that was in much better repair than its neighbors. A single letter M hung above a doorway that was guarded by two hulking Orcs.
She sighed. She hated Orcs.
“I don’t understand how he could stomach coming to such a place,” she muttered as they strode toward the building.
Graydon sounded as grim as she felt. “If he’s caught in the throes of a gambling addiction, then he may not have had much choice. This might be the only place that would run him a line of credit.”
A combination of anger and despair made her clench her teeth. As they grew closer to the building, she switched to telepathy. I don’t know how to help him, and I can’t keep bailing him out. Each time the debt grows higher and higher. Sooner or later, he’s going to come to his father’s attention.
If that happened, Calondir would react as he always did when he was confronted with a situation that made him angry. When he lost his temper, he could be verbally abusive. Sometimes he lashed out physically.
The thought caused her stomach to clench. Calondir never lashed out at her, not after she had threatened to cut off his hands and had left him. That had happened many years ago. For a very long time now, they had existed in two separate spheres emotionally, and they only came together to work on demesne issues.
Ferion was a different matter. Throughout his childhood, she had worked to protect him from his father, but now that he was an adult, she could no longer be present every time he met with Calondir. All she could do was try to keep Calondir from finding out.
You can’t make Ferion quit, Bel, Graydon told her gently. I’ve seen it with people who can’t stop drinking. Ferion is the only person who can make him quit. He has to hit bottom, whatever that might mean to him, and he has to choose at a fundamental level to change.
Her gaze dampened. She said, One step at a time. For tonight, I’ll just be glad to get him out of here.
The Orc guards watched but did nothing as they reached the door. When Graydon opened it, heat, light and noise poured out. Squaring her shoulders, Bel stepped inside and he followed.
In contrast to the air of general decay outside, the interior was decorated with plush carpets and paintings. A variety of scents assaulted her nose – liquors, a clash of perfumes, the grease from cooked meats, and unwashed bodies.
Smoke hung in the air, both tobacco and hashish. Music played somewhere, competing with shouts, loud conversation and coarse laughter.
The place was packed with both humans and those of the Elder Races. While some women were scattered throughout, the majority of the clientele was male.
Most stayed focused on the game they played, but several glanced at them curiously. In direct contrast to what had happened in the street, the males’ attention lingered on her cloaked, hooded figure.
Graydon moved so close, she could feel the brush of his muscular body at her side. His energy had grown darker and bristled with aggression.
The only way to get through this was, well, to get through it. Squaring her shoulders, she strode through the first room.
Soon, she was sweltering. The loud sights and sounds assaulted her senses, and the confinement of the heavy cloak became intensely uncomfortable.
She couldn’t seem to draw in a deep breath, and the thick, overly scented air caught at the back of her throat. Her heart pounded in hard, heavy slugs, and she longed to shove the hood away from her face.
