BooksBarbecue
Back Four Roads Cross
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

The mining camp’s spotlights were an issue, so she killed them. No time for elegance: glass shattered in a puff of expanding gas and freed spirits. Night reclaimed the mountain, and stars bathed the field in glory.

She gobbled stellar light, funneling power and pattern through glyphs that woke on her skin. She seized the mining camp’s ward. She had been sent by the King in Red (technically correct), and the King in Red was a Kovak Central Mining investor, along with Alphan Securities, Grimwald Holdings, and a half-dozen other firms. On the King in Red’s behalf she could invoke the wards and extend their protection to the private access road leading to the camp. The rat-revenants were in essence tiny, unprofitable Concerns, simple consumption-action loops trespassing on KCMC territory.

Shadow charged with blue fire rolled out from her carriage. The fire caught at the access road’s edges, and undead rodents screamed. Their tide broke into a burning wave as warded soil repelled them. Across the field, the wolf leapt—only to slam against an invisible barrier and fall. A streak of blood and grime sizzled in midair. The wolf twitched to rest.

After days of boardroom wrangling and terse, tense arguments with recalcitrant deities, Tara had to admit she enjoyed entering a besieged camp to cheers and applause. From the carriage driver’s seat she surveyed the people she had saved: miners and aid workers in vests embroidered with the Two Serpents logo. She bowed, though she felt their celebration premature, since the creatures outside were not so much gone as temporarily repulsed. She didn’t say as much.

A Quechal woman in slacks and sweat-stained blouse approached her from the barricade. “Thanks for the help. Took you long enough to get here.”

“Glad to provide,” Tara said, “but I think you may have me confused with someone else.” She produced a business card. “Tara Abernathy, Church of Kos and Seril. I didn’t come because you called for me. I’m here to speak with Mr. Altemoc.” Judging from the Quechal woman’s flinch, she’d mispronounced the name.

“Weird,” the woman said. “I sent a nightmare SOS yesterday; the King in Red’s offices responded this afternoon with your name and description.”

Far away, beyond the undead howls, Tara thought she heard a skeleton laugh. Why spend your own resources when another will volunteer for cat’s-paw? “Here I am, either way. Can I speak with Mr. Altemoc?”

Her interlocutor drew breath through her teeth. “He’s indisposed at the moment.”

“Where?”

The woman pointed, and Tara looked—past her, past tents and supply depots, to a gaping hole in the mountainside. The shadows within were the shadows of an open mouth.

“Wonderful,” Tara said.

50

50

“I never thought I could have so little fun after dark with ropes, knots, and a partner,” Cat said as they sailed into the bay.