ascension of mortals to the heavens, some hoped the old Gods would simply fade into history or be destroyed. One must now wonder whether the God-Emperor and God-Empress instead felt kinship for beings they would now share eternity with – or more worryingly, they are not strong enough to defeat those we now call demons.
From
A History
by Ayel Sorote
Cotto padded noiselessly along the peak of the roof until he reached the great clay-brick chimney at its centre. He glanced back and nodded to Shir, watching the small man hop the gap between houses and follow Cotto’s path. The breeze was faint on his skin and a layer of clouds hid all but a glimmer of the moonlight. Despite the dark he could see the lines of the city clearly, each roof and tile outlined in pale starry white. On the streets below was a veil of mist, creeping tendrils enveloping the city’s houses like an octopus’s embrace.
‘No sign ?’ Shir whispered, crouching beside Cotto to present a smaller outline against the sky.
‘Sign of what ?’ Cotto growled back. ‘This is a fool’s errand. What in the seven hells are we likely to find out here ?’
He remained standing, one hand hooked on the hanging jaw of a terracotta dragon’s head that protruded from one corner of the massive chimney. His skin was so dark that the whites of Cotto’s eyes seemed to shine by contrast.
‘Our lost brother !’ Shir insisted. ‘Some clue about what happened to him.’
Cotto scowled. ‘Just shut up,’ he muttered, watching Shir’s jaw clamp shut. He felt a pang of contempt at that, at how obedient the man was. ‘Whatever happened to our brother, he’ll be long gone – dead or alive.’
Little more than dogs, they are
, he thought to himself.
Starsight’s wasted on them ; they’ll always be less than a normal man. I can hardly see why the Elders bother giving them any of the Blessings – ’cept it means fewer true men like me to give the orders.
He moved around the chimney to look north from where they were, toward the palazzos of the Dragons where lesser men ruled ; his countrymen, who’d likely not even acknowledge his presence except to summon their guards. Blade-like towers reached up into the sky, set with long curves of glass that faintly glowed green or blue. Ancient magic, a jealously guarded secret that illuminated the towers and arches of House Dragon’s district, but mere toys compared to the Blessings Cotto now possessed.
‘Keep moving,’ he muttered, giving the docile Shir a nudge with his boot. ‘We search these streets and return to report.’
They set off at a faster pace, Cotto leading the way along the rooftops of the district’s lower-caste areas. As they went, the city seemed to close in on them ; mist rising up from the Crescent and the sea to fill the streets with a pale, insubstantial blanket even their Starsight could hardly penetrate. They kept to the rooftops, working their way into the corners between buildings and ornate chimneys for their lost brother or a clue to his disappearance.
It was slow going – even with the Cat’s Paw Blessings the Elders had imbued into their muscles to let them walk silently – but they moved steadily down the lines of houses as the night drew on. They paused at a crossroad, peering down at the dirt-packed ground below with wary, unblinking eyes.
All was still, the mist undisturbed by man or beast, God or demon. Over the crossroad stood a grand structure, a four-pillared archway canopied by a shallow roof of red tiles. A black dragon statue stood at the very peak of the roof, facing north-east down the larger of the streets leading away from the crossroad – claws raised and silently roaring a challenge to the cliff-top palazzos of House Eagle.
Cotto was about to leap onto the tiled roof when he heard a faint sound from his companion, a hiss of warning. He froze and heard a click of the tongue come from Shir, then a second. Turning his head slowly, Cotto scanned the street to the
From
A History
by Ayel Sorote
Cotto padded noiselessly along the peak of the roof until he reached the great clay-brick chimney at its centre. He glanced back and nodded to Shir, watching the small man hop the gap between houses and follow Cotto’s path. The breeze was faint on his skin and a layer of clouds hid all but a glimmer of the moonlight. Despite the dark he could see the lines of the city clearly, each roof and tile outlined in pale starry white. On the streets below was a veil of mist, creeping tendrils enveloping the city’s houses like an octopus’s embrace.
‘No sign ?’ Shir whispered, crouching beside Cotto to present a smaller outline against the sky.
‘Sign of what ?’ Cotto growled back. ‘This is a fool’s errand. What in the seven hells are we likely to find out here ?’
He remained standing, one hand hooked on the hanging jaw of a terracotta dragon’s head that protruded from one corner of the massive chimney. His skin was so dark that the whites of Cotto’s eyes seemed to shine by contrast.
‘Our lost brother !’ Shir insisted. ‘Some clue about what happened to him.’
Cotto scowled. ‘Just shut up,’ he muttered, watching Shir’s jaw clamp shut. He felt a pang of contempt at that, at how obedient the man was. ‘Whatever happened to our brother, he’ll be long gone – dead or alive.’
Little more than dogs, they are
, he thought to himself.
Starsight’s wasted on them ; they’ll always be less than a normal man. I can hardly see why the Elders bother giving them any of the Blessings – ’cept it means fewer true men like me to give the orders.
He moved around the chimney to look north from where they were, toward the palazzos of the Dragons where lesser men ruled ; his countrymen, who’d likely not even acknowledge his presence except to summon their guards. Blade-like towers reached up into the sky, set with long curves of glass that faintly glowed green or blue. Ancient magic, a jealously guarded secret that illuminated the towers and arches of House Dragon’s district, but mere toys compared to the Blessings Cotto now possessed.
‘Keep moving,’ he muttered, giving the docile Shir a nudge with his boot. ‘We search these streets and return to report.’
They set off at a faster pace, Cotto leading the way along the rooftops of the district’s lower-caste areas. As they went, the city seemed to close in on them ; mist rising up from the Crescent and the sea to fill the streets with a pale, insubstantial blanket even their Starsight could hardly penetrate. They kept to the rooftops, working their way into the corners between buildings and ornate chimneys for their lost brother or a clue to his disappearance.
It was slow going – even with the Cat’s Paw Blessings the Elders had imbued into their muscles to let them walk silently – but they moved steadily down the lines of houses as the night drew on. They paused at a crossroad, peering down at the dirt-packed ground below with wary, unblinking eyes.
All was still, the mist undisturbed by man or beast, God or demon. Over the crossroad stood a grand structure, a four-pillared archway canopied by a shallow roof of red tiles. A black dragon statue stood at the very peak of the roof, facing north-east down the larger of the streets leading away from the crossroad – claws raised and silently roaring a challenge to the cliff-top palazzos of House Eagle.
Cotto was about to leap onto the tiled roof when he heard a faint sound from his companion, a hiss of warning. He froze and heard a click of the tongue come from Shir, then a second. Turning his head slowly, Cotto scanned the street to the
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