Chapters (102)
“Urzula is a witch!” The acolytes reached under their cloaks. Before they could nock an arrow or throw a knife, Bal and the warrior-clowns hurled nets and tangled them in knotted rope. The pirates cheered, sending sparks into the sky. One red-robed acolyte fell on his own blade. His shrieks were cut short as void-smoke snaked from his wound and got sucked into Awa’s last crystal. The clowns dragged him and the other acolytes into the shadows.
“Religious fanatics,” a pirate said. She looked like a young Urzula. “They’ve swallowed the void.”
“I knew we were wrong to come,” replied a man who could have been her brother.
“Lilot invited us, not the queen,” the woman said.
Bal jumped to the ground and spoke Lahesh, the diplomat’s tongue. “Welcome to Arkhys City.” Bal could have been a northlander, a pirate from the floating cities, or a barbarian. “Let us take you to Lilot. She and the queen lent us these sparks.” Vie held up Urzula’s torch. “I apologize for the zeal of young men who have yet to grow into their wisdom.” Bal bowed as if vie were the Master of Arms. The warrior-clowns bowed too. Bal stepped toward the pirates. “You see clearly. Those acolytes have swallowed too much void-smoke.”
“Willingly or force-fed?” The pirate woman also spoke Lahesh, acting like the captain.
“Will is often an illusion.” Bal grinned. “I offer an honor guard to escort you to the citadel.” Clowns leapt in the air, danced on their hands, and juggled fire weapons. The travelers snapped their fingers, relieved, delighted even.
“Those acolytes are a danger to themselves,” the pirate woman said, “not to us.”
“Of course.” Bal bowed again. “This honor guard is for our most esteemed guests.” Our? The rebels? The Empire?
Charmed, the pirate woman marched down the gangway through cheers, somersaults, and clanging weapons. Her people followed. “We appreciate your generosity.” She smiled at Bal. Warrior-clowns hustled them off into the night.
Meera scowled. “This is the third ambush.” Yellow cloaks had joined Bog-towners fighting Kahartans. Red cloaks had urged a citizen mob to hang vesons. Bal and the clowns intervened each time. “Those acolytes are … are…”
Full of the void and acting like Smokeland fiends, but who wanted to say that?
“Hezram or Council traitors mean to deplete our ranks and rattle our spirits.” Bal scanned the boardwalk. “We can’t linger any longer.” Vie leapt onto the warhorse.
Meera shook Awa. “You’re not eating.” She stuffed nut bread in Awa’s mouth. “Don’t worry. Kyrie was right to send us out. You see how easily we defeat them.”
Awa chewed. “Do I?”