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

Claire—blonder of the two, hollow cheeks, sharp controlled movements—met Jones halfway, leaving Ellen to resolve a question of supplies. Gabby almost hadn’t recognized either girl: when she last saw them they’d stood hostage to their father. They’d grown in two days, or she had. “Ms. Jones,” Claire said. “What are you doing here?”

“I keep my ears open, and I hear things. What about you?”

“The Lady needs help.”

“You shouldn’t be here, kid. I’ve seen people side with gods against Craftsmen. That doesn’t end well.”

“Seril helped us,” Claire said. “We’ll help Her tomorrow.”

“You read much history, Claire?”

“Enough.”

“You don’t want to be out here when they bring the big guns.”

“If you won’t help us,” Claire said, “at least don’t get in our way. We have work to do.”

Damn kids, damn idealists. But to sit here and pray as the sky burned overhead—there was a stupid courage to that, even if Gabby knew how that sort of courage ended. Tomorrow Aev would fight in the skies. And Gabby would watch from the sidelines. That was her job. She’d told Tara as much in this very square, days ago.

“Ms. Jones.” Gabby jumped. Ellen’s approach had been soundless. She carried a sleeping bag under one arm. “Our Lady doesn’t stand much chance alone.”

She remembered Aev in the alleyway: moonlit talons and jewellike glittering eyes. And she remembered fire falling in Dresediel Lex, a long time gone. “No.”

“You came because you want to help, but don’t think you can. Stay. Tell our story.”

Jones had a beat to cover, leads to follow and ledes to write.

But she had started all this, in the small way a teller starts a tale. And if they died and she didn’t, she could forge of their story a weapon to throw against the wizards in their glass towers. To fight back, as she hadn’t fought twenty years ago.

“I can’t join you. It’s not…” Professional ethics made a hollow sound when struck.

“You could help us build camp,” Claire said. “If that won’t strain your morals.”

“No,” she said. “I can do that much.”

56

56

The nurse led Dr. Hasim to the room where Umar lay. A pale man slept there too, in a long white bed separated from Umar’s by a blue curtain. “I’m sorry,” the nurse said as they entered. “There weren’t enough beds; we had to fit him somewhere. We’ll move him soon, now most of your group’s awake. But he hasn’t responded since he arrived.”

“Thank you,” Hasim said. “Leave us, please?”

The man left.