Read Online Steelhands (2011) by Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett - Free Book Online
Authors: Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett
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their wallets. No remarkable hats to be found
here
, though I did espy several bookshops, a few cafés, and even a very small market—but I could see easily enough from the state of its shriveled fruits and unimpressive vegetables that I would not be giving such a place
my
business. There was a little apothecary hidden away down a narrow corner that sold poultices and remedies for those unfortunate enough to take ill in the winter months. I made a note of its location, quite sure that I would be availing myself of its services sometime in the future.
Despite my chimney being stopped up in the same manner as Laure’s had been, my room had remained persistently chilly and drafty from the first.
Still, it was difficult to remain in a dreary mood when one’s surroundings were no longer dreary in the slightest. Various men and women—dressed so smartly that it was impossible to imagine they weren’t headed somewhere terribly important—used the Stretch as a thoroughfare to get from one place to the next despite
clearly
not being students or professors of the ’Versity proper, and the street was terribly crowded, even though I hadn’t yet seen very many other students. I personally felt like a very small fish in a very large, overcrowded ocean—and one with very dull scales indeed. And I had no affection for the way men and women walked past you as though you didn’t exist, jostling you this way and that without so much as a by-your-leave. They never covered their mouths with kerchiefs when they sneezed, either, and I knew without a doubt I would be sick before the week was out.
“Why’re you making that face?” Laure asked me, nudging me in the side with her elbow.
“I can smell whatever it is you’ve gotten on your boot,” I replied. This was very true. “I told you, you should have changed it right away.”
“I’ve had worse on my boots,” Laure said. “
Way
worse, too.”
This was very true, as well, but I couldn’t bear to think about it.
The Stretch was wide, but branched off into a great many side streets along the way. One of these was my dear Rue d’St. Difference, which made up a border of sorts, as I understood it, with the neighboring Charlotte district. I was absolutely
itching
to see the lower town, but I hadn’t mentioned this to Laure for fear she’d try to knock the idea right out of my head.
If we were to keep going and make a sharp right, I realized, we would land ourselves smack where we’d been dropped off in the carriages—back at the statues of the Dragon Corps, though that was one landmark I’d seen quite enough of for the time being. One of them smelled like Laure’s boot did, and besides, it seemed rather morbid—to me, in any case—to erect statues of men who were both living
and
dead, and group them together like that. It was like inviting bad luck—though perhaps such superstitious notions were regarded as entirely outdated in the city.
Luckily we were only meant to follow the main road for a bare few twists before we came to the central class buildings—which looked, I realized, just the same as the regular housing, with no discernible difference whatsoever. I had been hoping for something a little more grand, or perhaps a longer walk through the city so that I might drink in more sights and sounds, but no such luck. Seeing as how it was very cold indeed, I supposed I could accept this—at least for the time being.
But as soon as classes were out for the day—and we had only two introductory lectures to begin with, the latter of which concluded around lunchtime—I intended to go exploring. Bold and intrepid as such actions were, I would have my stalwart companion, Laure, with me. Perhaps we would start by drifting in the wake of the more-elaborately-dressed people around us to see where they ended up. Or perhaps we might even make our way to the Basquiat, though we had no real business there. This time, there would be no bags that could be lost, and we would
here
, though I did espy several bookshops, a few cafés, and even a very small market—but I could see easily enough from the state of its shriveled fruits and unimpressive vegetables that I would not be giving such a place
my
business. There was a little apothecary hidden away down a narrow corner that sold poultices and remedies for those unfortunate enough to take ill in the winter months. I made a note of its location, quite sure that I would be availing myself of its services sometime in the future.
Despite my chimney being stopped up in the same manner as Laure’s had been, my room had remained persistently chilly and drafty from the first.
Still, it was difficult to remain in a dreary mood when one’s surroundings were no longer dreary in the slightest. Various men and women—dressed so smartly that it was impossible to imagine they weren’t headed somewhere terribly important—used the Stretch as a thoroughfare to get from one place to the next despite
clearly
not being students or professors of the ’Versity proper, and the street was terribly crowded, even though I hadn’t yet seen very many other students. I personally felt like a very small fish in a very large, overcrowded ocean—and one with very dull scales indeed. And I had no affection for the way men and women walked past you as though you didn’t exist, jostling you this way and that without so much as a by-your-leave. They never covered their mouths with kerchiefs when they sneezed, either, and I knew without a doubt I would be sick before the week was out.
“Why’re you making that face?” Laure asked me, nudging me in the side with her elbow.
“I can smell whatever it is you’ve gotten on your boot,” I replied. This was very true. “I told you, you should have changed it right away.”
“I’ve had worse on my boots,” Laure said. “
Way
worse, too.”
This was very true, as well, but I couldn’t bear to think about it.
The Stretch was wide, but branched off into a great many side streets along the way. One of these was my dear Rue d’St. Difference, which made up a border of sorts, as I understood it, with the neighboring Charlotte district. I was absolutely
itching
to see the lower town, but I hadn’t mentioned this to Laure for fear she’d try to knock the idea right out of my head.
If we were to keep going and make a sharp right, I realized, we would land ourselves smack where we’d been dropped off in the carriages—back at the statues of the Dragon Corps, though that was one landmark I’d seen quite enough of for the time being. One of them smelled like Laure’s boot did, and besides, it seemed rather morbid—to me, in any case—to erect statues of men who were both living
and
dead, and group them together like that. It was like inviting bad luck—though perhaps such superstitious notions were regarded as entirely outdated in the city.
Luckily we were only meant to follow the main road for a bare few twists before we came to the central class buildings—which looked, I realized, just the same as the regular housing, with no discernible difference whatsoever. I had been hoping for something a little more grand, or perhaps a longer walk through the city so that I might drink in more sights and sounds, but no such luck. Seeing as how it was very cold indeed, I supposed I could accept this—at least for the time being.
But as soon as classes were out for the day—and we had only two introductory lectures to begin with, the latter of which concluded around lunchtime—I intended to go exploring. Bold and intrepid as such actions were, I would have my stalwart companion, Laure, with me. Perhaps we would start by drifting in the wake of the more-elaborately-dressed people around us to see where they ended up. Or perhaps we might even make our way to the Basquiat, though we had no real business there. This time, there would be no bags that could be lost, and we would
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