Back Cold Steel
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Welcome
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Author’s Note
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. extras
  55. meet the author
  56. introducing
  57. BOOKS BY KATE ELLIOTT
  58. Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
  59. Contents
  60. Copyright
Document

It was just so interesting to watch how Bee coaxed people into thinking about things in a new way. The women had never heard of Expedition or the Antilles, nor even of General Camjiata, although they had all heard of the Iberian Monster, known as a marauding general whose troops ate babies and who magicked women into men to make more soldiers for his army.

“All this talk of an assembly in a far country makes little difference to us,” said the potter. “What I want to know is how a man can write a law code and suppose any mage or prince will care what it says? They can ignore it easily enough.”

“Not if you do not ignore it!” said Bee.

“Words scratched on paper do not a binding make. Only blood makes a binding.”

“We are bound if we believe there is only one way things can be,” said Bee.

“Do you think we can stand against their soldiers?” asked the potter as others nodded. “You are young and innocent to not know the way of things.”

Regardless of how little agreement Bee fostered among the women who stayed up late to listen, she kept them listening, even if only for the novelty. She and I slept together in an alcove bed tucked into the wall, with a pair of dogs curled at our feet. In the morning I gave the potter a steel needle, and the women provisioned us with enough barley-cake, turnips, and beans to last three days.

“What did you discuss?” I asked Vai once we were back out on the river.

“I can’t speak of it.” To a man raised as he had been, such secrets were sacred. He was careful not to touch me. Even Rory was unusually solemn, in a mood I might have called brooding.

Bee said, “I did not see you, Rory. Were you with the men?”

“I don’t like temples. They make my skin itch.” He perused our faces as if he expected to uncover a rebuke. “I saw a terrible thing while you three were about your feasts and friendly talk! These people wish they were not bound to the mage House, but they bind people in their turn, don’t they? While they feast and sing and sleep, aren’t there people who serve?”

“Everyone must work,” said Vai, with a shake of his head.