Page 76 of The Book That Held Her Heart

“Why are we following her?” Carlotte asked.

“Because of the way the Exchange works,” Livira answered in a low voice. “It doesn’t just spit you out at random. It drops you into important days, important places. This canith didn’t find us—we found her. We were meant to.”

Carlotte scowled. “That sounds like a bunch of mystic hoo-hah you just made up.”

Livira shrugged. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Carlotte’s frown deepened. “But we didn’t even appear at the tavern. We were on some street with bookshops. And there was a tavern there too. A much nicer one. Maybe we were supposed to go in there, not wander randomly to the Gates of Misery.”

“Heaven’s Gate,” Livira corrected.

“I call it as I see it.”

Ahead of them, their guide took a swift glance around then veered into a side street. She picked up the pace immediately they were clear of the main road. Despite the canith’s grey mane and emaciation, her lengthened stride forced Livira to jog in order to keep up. A few more lefts and rightstook them from broad, well-lit streets into grimy alleys. The setting sun didn’t reach far into the slums, but above them the last strands of the earlier fog lit with crimson. The canith led them between tall rows of tenements, black with the smoke of whatever local industry tainted the air between one blocked sewer and the next. Clotheslines spanned the street, connecting random rooms. Overalls and aprons hung sullenly in the damp air.

“A dead end.” Carlotte stated the obvious. The canith hadn’t spoken since leaving the wrecked tavern and the vanquished Escape behind them. She glanced around at them now.

The square they’d arrived in was little more than five yards across, walled in by buildings. Livira could see no doors. The few windows were all shuttered.

“Come.” The canith approached a wall, pushed, and ducked through the opening that appeared.

Livira followed Carlotte in, fighting against the strength of the spring that wanted to return the centrally hinged section of wall back to its original position. A flight of steps led down. The place smelled earthy and was utterly dark.

“Don’t trip,” the canith advised.

Livira edged down the stairs, a hand on the wall to either side, not convinced she could find enough traction on the slimy stone to prevent her tumbling should she miss her footing.

None of them fell. Livira saved injury for the final step, jolting as she expected another drop, and biting her tongue. “Damnation!”

A door opened and lantern light blinded her. Blinking, she advanced into a chamber about the same size as the square above. Two men with crossbows stood against the far wall, one aiming at Carlotte, the other still cranking his cable back. Between Livira and the men some chairs and a table bearing the remnants of a meal offered little opportunity for cover.

The younger man finished loading his weapon and pointed it at Livira.

“Relax, everyone,” the stooping canith growled. “Don’t shoot them—but stay ready to.”

“Thanks,” Carlotte said with total insincerity.

“We need to consider the possibility that you’re the potentate’s agents,”the canith explained. “If the potentate got his hands on someone who seems able to work magic, I don’t think he’d risk sending them to a shithole like the Gates in the hopes of rooting out the Saviour. But I’m going to keep that possibility in mind.”

“Magic?” The older of the crossbow men snorted.

Livira took a step forward and both crossbows pointed her way. She reached for the nearest chair and sat down. “This would be easier if you assumed we’ve both dropped off one of the moons and landed today. I don’t know who the Saviour is or what your king’s called or what wars you’re fighting. I don’t even know what this city looks like in daylight without the fog. We”—she flickered a finger from herself to Carlotte and back again—“are not from around here. I’m looking for a book. A particular book. And if I help you, I’ll expect some help in return.”

“Who says we need anything from you?” sneered the older man.

“You’d like us to go then?” Carlotte turned for the exit.

“Enough!” the canith snapped with surprising authority. “Sit.” She pointed the former queen to a chair beside Livira. “I’ll get Tremon. She can decide what to do with you.” She stalked across the room to a door behind the men. Before opening it, she paused to address both men with a degree of menace. “Donotshoot them.” She held her hand out and the older man gave her a heavy key. She used it, went through, and locked the door behind her. “Unless you have to,” she called back through the thickness of the wood.

Livira and Carlotte sat in silence for a minute until the younger man lowered his weapon and said, “We don’t have a king. The potentate had him killed.”

“What’s the difference between a king and a potentate?” Livira asked.

The older man snorted. He seemed prone to snorting. “Don’t humour them.”

“About this much.” His companion used a hand to measure the distance from his shoulder to his full height. He grinned. “The potentate had the king decapitated and took his throne.”

Livira grinned back, despite the grim topic. The companion was a sandy-haired fellow of about Livira’s age, his pleasant face marred by a livid scar running from chin to cheek, carving through his lips on the way. Shegestured to the chair opposite. “Sit down. Your friend can shoot anyone who misbehaves. You can tell me about this Saviour of yours…”

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