Read Online Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1) by Will Wight - Free Book Online
Authors: Will Wight
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fortunes.
“Father spoke most highly of you,” Calder lied, “and I’m sure you’re an excellent Watchman. Watchwoman. Watchlady.”
“Watchman. The founder of our order was a woman, and she took the name ‘Watchman’ upon herself because she ‘Didn’t want to set herself above her male counterparts by flaunting her superior gender.’ That’s a quote from her biography, which you will know after your courses in Imperial history.”
That was an incredibly useless bit of trivia, and he thought about pointing that out, but there was still an edge to her voice that he couldn’t quite place. Best to put out the fires. “Be that as it may, you have to admit that a Guild lifestyle is somewhat...insular.” ‘Insular’ was a word he had learned from the news-sheets last week, and he was determined to use it as much as possible. “Wouldn’t I be better trained if I continued to take on the broad world as it is, facing all its dangers with eyes wide open?”
While he spoke, Alsa had walked over to her mantelpiece, drawing the tip of her finger along one of her mounted pistols as though checking for dust. “You would say you’ve lived a dangerous lifestyle, then?”
Too late he realized that saying his life had been dangerous might be calling his father irresponsible or abusive. “I had Father to look out for me, of course. But I have faced my share of dangers.”
She pulled the pistol down, cocked it, and pointed it at him.
“How would you face this one, then?” she asked.
He didn’t believe she would pull the trigger, not really, but staring down the barrel of a gun still turned his backbone to dust.
Unconsciously, he raised his hands like a hostage during a stickup. “I would do my best to avoid situations like this.”
Alsa nodded, expression serious. “Very wise. And if, despite every precaution, you found yourself in this scenario? What would you do then?”
He tried to look as confident as possible without lowering his hands. “I do have other talents, you know.”
“Please elaborate.”
Now he had her. Laymen tended to be superstitious about Readers, ascribing them abilities they did not actually possess. When the Emperor flaunted his overwhelming powers publicly, it went a long way toward establishing Readers as superhuman.
They were not, of course. Only the Emperor could display that level of obscene control, levitating wagons or creating doors in blank walls. But most people did not know that.
Calder cast his glance around him for something he could use, spying a small decorative pillow on the edge of his chair. He picked it up, smiling.
“If I were so inclined, I could invest this with enough Intent to stop a pistol-shot. If I had some more time and the proper equipment, I could even Awaken it, but that...” He shuddered theatrically. “Who knows what powers that could unleash?”
Alsa’s eyes widened. “Really? You could make this pillow bulletproof?”
She lowered her pistol and moved a few steps closer, running a hand along the pillow. “This right here? Without changing a thing?”
He had her. “I would need a little time, of course, but in an actual situation of—”
She pushed the pillow against his chest, pressed the barrel of her pistol against it, and squeezed the trigger.
A noise burst in his ears as though a horse had kicked him on either side of the head, and a flare of light and smoke blinded him. The cloud of gun smoke filled his nose, choking him, and for a moment he was torn between a gasp and a hacking cough. He was afraid it came out more like a wail.
He was shot! She’d shot him! His own mother!
Desperately he shoved the pillow out of his lap, scrambling to locate the wound. If it was a gut-shot, he might live until they got him to a doctor, but he would need something to staunch the bleeding. The pillow! He shouldn’t have dropped it after all, now where...
It occurred to him after a few seconds that he was not actually wounded, and that his
“Father spoke most highly of you,” Calder lied, “and I’m sure you’re an excellent Watchman. Watchwoman. Watchlady.”
“Watchman. The founder of our order was a woman, and she took the name ‘Watchman’ upon herself because she ‘Didn’t want to set herself above her male counterparts by flaunting her superior gender.’ That’s a quote from her biography, which you will know after your courses in Imperial history.”
That was an incredibly useless bit of trivia, and he thought about pointing that out, but there was still an edge to her voice that he couldn’t quite place. Best to put out the fires. “Be that as it may, you have to admit that a Guild lifestyle is somewhat...insular.” ‘Insular’ was a word he had learned from the news-sheets last week, and he was determined to use it as much as possible. “Wouldn’t I be better trained if I continued to take on the broad world as it is, facing all its dangers with eyes wide open?”
While he spoke, Alsa had walked over to her mantelpiece, drawing the tip of her finger along one of her mounted pistols as though checking for dust. “You would say you’ve lived a dangerous lifestyle, then?”
Too late he realized that saying his life had been dangerous might be calling his father irresponsible or abusive. “I had Father to look out for me, of course. But I have faced my share of dangers.”
She pulled the pistol down, cocked it, and pointed it at him.
“How would you face this one, then?” she asked.
He didn’t believe she would pull the trigger, not really, but staring down the barrel of a gun still turned his backbone to dust.
Unconsciously, he raised his hands like a hostage during a stickup. “I would do my best to avoid situations like this.”
Alsa nodded, expression serious. “Very wise. And if, despite every precaution, you found yourself in this scenario? What would you do then?”
He tried to look as confident as possible without lowering his hands. “I do have other talents, you know.”
“Please elaborate.”
Now he had her. Laymen tended to be superstitious about Readers, ascribing them abilities they did not actually possess. When the Emperor flaunted his overwhelming powers publicly, it went a long way toward establishing Readers as superhuman.
They were not, of course. Only the Emperor could display that level of obscene control, levitating wagons or creating doors in blank walls. But most people did not know that.
Calder cast his glance around him for something he could use, spying a small decorative pillow on the edge of his chair. He picked it up, smiling.
“If I were so inclined, I could invest this with enough Intent to stop a pistol-shot. If I had some more time and the proper equipment, I could even Awaken it, but that...” He shuddered theatrically. “Who knows what powers that could unleash?”
Alsa’s eyes widened. “Really? You could make this pillow bulletproof?”
She lowered her pistol and moved a few steps closer, running a hand along the pillow. “This right here? Without changing a thing?”
He had her. “I would need a little time, of course, but in an actual situation of—”
She pushed the pillow against his chest, pressed the barrel of her pistol against it, and squeezed the trigger.
A noise burst in his ears as though a horse had kicked him on either side of the head, and a flare of light and smoke blinded him. The cloud of gun smoke filled his nose, choking him, and for a moment he was torn between a gasp and a hacking cough. He was afraid it came out more like a wail.
He was shot! She’d shot him! His own mother!
Desperately he shoved the pillow out of his lap, scrambling to locate the wound. If it was a gut-shot, he might live until they got him to a doctor, but he would need something to staunch the bleeding. The pillow! He shouldn’t have dropped it after all, now where...
It occurred to him after a few seconds that he was not actually wounded, and that his
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