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Back Four Roads Cross Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. Also by Max Gladstone
  74. About the Author
  75. Newsletter Sign-up

“I’m the same,” she said. “I asked because it’s boring to sit here with nothing to do.”

The golem trudged through the muck of unswept streets.

“You’ve worked golems before?”

“We have one.”

“We’ll switch off. No sense just one of us being bored.”

She accepted the leads. Her hand wasn’t so steady as Matt’s. She took corners harder and stopped faster, and hummed tunelessly as she drove, notes crushed and skewed and not at all like her sister’s song. But she watched the road. Donna always made fun of Matt for his caution with the leads. Came from the business: eggs were strong, but he didn’t like to jostle them. A carton broken was a carton lost.

“You drive often?”

She let the wheels roll the question under and golem feet trample it. When he thought it crushed to death, she spoke. “I drive most days. Dad doesn’t tend to wake this early. When he’s sick, I go. When he isn’t, I pretend I’m sleeping.”

When she said “sick,” he heard hung over, and remembered Corbin’s foul look in the stalls of a morning. “It’s good of you to take care of him.”

“I take care of the girls.”

He almost asked what she meant by that, by not including herself with her sisters, but he had an idea. “It’s not fair that you have to do so much.”

“How’s your head?”

He didn’t understand the question. She touched her own left temple; he mimicked her, and felt the bandage there and the scab beneath. It was a dull ache.

City gave ground to country as grudgingly as the night surrendered to dawn. Trees replaced sidewalks, grasses invaded the gaps between buildings. The sky crushed houses down to soil. They made good time thanks to Claire’s driving. Fields opened, with dirt roads winding into them, and they followed those roads, collecting from her suppliers and his. “Didn’t know you had a girl,” Cummings said when Matt picked up his eggs.

“I don’t,” Matt said. “Just doing a favor for—” A friend? Was Rafferty a friend? Was he doing this for him? “Just doing a favor.”

Cummings came from people who didn’t talk much and spoke mostly with their faces: brows raised, lips pursed, cheeks hollowed, breath drawn through the nose. He spit into the dirt. “Mighty fine. Mrs. Cummings made more coffee. You want some?”

“Could use some, thank you, Samuel.”

Cummings brought two mugs. “Bring ’em back tomorrow is all.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she said to him when he brought the mugs to her. The coffee wasn’t as good as Claire’s, but it passed.

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