Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

kept to the shadows as much as possible, darting past homes and shops with lit glowpods. She was well out of the light when the northerner stopped at a shingle-sided townhome and knocked. This row of residences was a single large edifice built atop a series of pontoons and lashed to the walkways to keep it stable. Nothing in this neighborhood had ever sailed the sea – these were homes for rich folk who wanted to pretend they were living on dry ground.

Gamarron knocked on the door with an irregular rhythm – two knocks, a pause, four quick taps, another pause, and then two more. The door opened, and an impressively burly man stepped out, forcing Gamarron to back away from the door. The well-dressed thug closed the door behind him, leaving them both outside. They conversed quietly, but she was too far away to hear anything. Then Gamarron held his arms out wide, and the burly man started groping him all over his body, presumably checking for things like a hidden obsidian stiletto or graniteoak punching spikes. The savage was forced to turn out his pockets and show their contents. Whatever he carried was harmless, apparently, since he quickly pocketed his things again. The gentleman thug opened the door, and they both entered.

I need to get in there.

She doubted the doorman would be nearly as amenable if she were the one knocking. Venturing out of the shadows on to the empty walkway, she eyed the building. There was a light visible on the second floor through the smoky vidrin of the window. Shadows flickered behind it, and she felt the urgency to know churning the pit of her stomach. That big fellow will be near the door somewhere, and who knows what other guards there are. None of the ground floor windows are of the opening type. How am I going to do this?

It had been a very long time since she’d had to do this kind of sneaking to get what she wanted. Hands of her age tended to employ others to accomplish these things. Subduing a guard or two was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she could do the stealthy kind of eavesdropping that she’d enjoyed when she was twenty. Figure something else out, then, woman! A back door? That’s certain to be guarded too. The roof? That was a possibility. It was flat, after all – many of these homes kept small gardens and the like up there. But how to reach it? The lip of the roof was a good ten meters up – all the connected houses were like that. All connected. Hmm. She retreated further into the shadows, an idea forming.

Renna swung her legs over the walkway’s rope railing and made the nervous leap to the small ledge of the building just above the pontoons. The house Gamarron had entered was three doors down from where she stood. She placed her hand flat against the wall’s shingles and concentrated, searching for the vibration of the wood. Spikefruit wood. Fifty years old or more, all cut from the same grove. Easy. Spikefruit trees gave nice wood. Gentle. Each species had its own feel, almost a personality. Graniteoak was stern and stolid, apple trees were happy and very nearly silly sometimes, and jackfruit trees were insipid and dull. Each one responded a little differently to a Weaver’s touch. This wood practically sprang into shape as she whispered her will to it. A deep handhold shuddered into being under her hand, sawdust falling to the cobbles in a silent shower. One by one she touched the boards, and as the new grooves appeared, she hoisted herself skyward. Her joints creaked a little, but the climb wasn’t hard. I’m not so old after all.

She was about to haul herself over the lip of the roof when she saw that the space above was not empty – a man snored quietly on a pallet between two potted trees. Either he likes sleeping under the stars or his wife has had enough of him. Renna was tempted to creep up on him and slip some nasty little surprise under his blanket just for being in her way, but she didn’t dare climb onto the roof to do so. He might wake.

Changing her plan, she worked her way sideways across the front of the townhomes, making new holes as she went, keeping her head ducked down so anyone that happened to be on the rooftops wouldn’t see her. It took far longer than she wanted to crab her way over to the target residence. Her hands were cramping from the awkward handholds. When finally she arrived, she put her head up just far enough to peek onto the roof.

She was glad she had taken care. A fat, unshaven guard slouched in a chair next to the trapdoor leading down into the house. His eyes were glazed with boredom. He was looking out over the back of the house, which seemed to open onto empty water. If he had been looking this way… The easy thrill she’d felt earlier sharpened into something more primal.

Though he was looking out over the back, he would certainly hear her if she climbed up. There was no way up onto the little roof-yard without being caught. Her arms were beginning to tire. One way or the other, I need to get in there soon. She had no desire to end the evening by breaking her back on the walkway below. I look like a fool, feet dangling and ass out for the whole street to see like I’m going to moon the sky.

She had a sleeper-seed phial out of her pouch and was gauging her aim at the guard’s back when a quiet voice spoke clearly from below her. “I never imagined my sources in Far East would be so effective.” She convulsed in surprise and nearly lost her footing. It was a man’s voice, reedy and careful, bearing a strange