Read Online The Boy Who Wept Blood by Den Patrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Den Patrick
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come to him. The storm abated and still he could not surrender consciousness. The gale exhausted itself, leaving the land scoured fresh by the downpour, the grass verdant and lush in the morning light. Gentle hills rolled on the horizon, cypress trees standing to attention, clusters of them watching over Landfall, green sentinels. Clusters of birch and oak huddled together in the distance, clouds of green scudding over the landscape.
Dino endured a restless hour in bed before washing and changing. The bandages that concealed his tines had come loose and he set about rewrapping his forearms. Achilles formed a loop of scales at the foot of the bed. The drake looked affronted by the interruption to his rest.
‘Count yourself fortunate you don’t have to wrap your tines each day, my handsome friend.’
Achilles yawned, hissed and slid from the bed.
‘Try and give someone a compliment …’
Dino killed time with a shave, noting the haunted expression that stared back from the looking glass. Achilles clambered up one leg and took his perch on a bare shoulder.
‘I hope she knows what she’s doing,’ Dino said as he towelled his face dry, but the reptile offered no reassurances, spoke no words of suggestion.
Dino dressed and placed Achilles in the sitting-room window so he could sun himself with a few dead crickets for company. The reptile would get round to eating them in his own good time. The idea of food had some appeal and Dino headed out, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt.
It was a long walk from his apartment in House Erudito to the House Contadino kitchens. A few scholars were stumbling toward their classes. They nodded to Dino as he passed, sparing him kind words and asking after Lady Diaspora. The Orfano reached the gatehouse joining Erudito to the Central Keep, the wide circular corridor linking the great houses. There were no windows here, the air thick with smoke from the braziers that burned at each gatehouse. The guards looked bored and unkempt, prompting Dino’s thoughts to stray to Anea, attempting to calculate the cost of paying off a guard.
The Contadino courtyard was teaming with life and industry. Dino watched it for a moment before crossing to the kitchen porch. Nardo appeared from within, tucking his thumbs into his belt, and leaned against the door frame.
‘Hell of a thing,’ said the House Contadino messenger.
‘Don’t speak of hell around the cittadini , you know how superstitious they are. They’ll be no end of trouble now that we have a plague of ants.’
Nardo was a good ten years older than Dino, dark in the way common to the peoples of the Diaspora. His horseman’s boots were dull from the road, his starched white tabard muddy. He’d recently replaced his short sword and a new scarlet feather adorned his hat. Nardo always looked in need of shave, a deep shadow of stubble on his firm jaw.
‘Huh. True enough.’ The messenger pursed his lips. ‘Still, hell of a thing. The cittadini didn’t care for them too much.’
‘What did they do?’
‘Lit torches, drove them off with smoke. What did Anea make of it?’
Dino was long acquainted with Nardo’s lack of formality, even when discussing Lady Diaspora. It was one of the reasons he liked the man so much.
‘She said something about “meteorological conditions” and “geographical displacement” then something about “preventing inbreeding”.’
‘Pity she couldn’t tell some of the houses about that last one a few generations ago.’
Dino cracked a smile and and shook with silent laughter. Nardo grinned, taking out his pipe and stuffing it with moondrake leaf, more commonly known as luna .
‘I expect she’ll discuss it with Virmyre and they’ll come up with a theory. None of us will understand and we’ll all be no better off than if nothing had happened in the first place.’
‘Sounds like science,’ agreed Nardo.
‘Sounds like a waste of time.’
‘It’s happened before,’ said the
Dino endured a restless hour in bed before washing and changing. The bandages that concealed his tines had come loose and he set about rewrapping his forearms. Achilles formed a loop of scales at the foot of the bed. The drake looked affronted by the interruption to his rest.
‘Count yourself fortunate you don’t have to wrap your tines each day, my handsome friend.’
Achilles yawned, hissed and slid from the bed.
‘Try and give someone a compliment …’
Dino killed time with a shave, noting the haunted expression that stared back from the looking glass. Achilles clambered up one leg and took his perch on a bare shoulder.
‘I hope she knows what she’s doing,’ Dino said as he towelled his face dry, but the reptile offered no reassurances, spoke no words of suggestion.
Dino dressed and placed Achilles in the sitting-room window so he could sun himself with a few dead crickets for company. The reptile would get round to eating them in his own good time. The idea of food had some appeal and Dino headed out, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt.
It was a long walk from his apartment in House Erudito to the House Contadino kitchens. A few scholars were stumbling toward their classes. They nodded to Dino as he passed, sparing him kind words and asking after Lady Diaspora. The Orfano reached the gatehouse joining Erudito to the Central Keep, the wide circular corridor linking the great houses. There were no windows here, the air thick with smoke from the braziers that burned at each gatehouse. The guards looked bored and unkempt, prompting Dino’s thoughts to stray to Anea, attempting to calculate the cost of paying off a guard.
The Contadino courtyard was teaming with life and industry. Dino watched it for a moment before crossing to the kitchen porch. Nardo appeared from within, tucking his thumbs into his belt, and leaned against the door frame.
‘Hell of a thing,’ said the House Contadino messenger.
‘Don’t speak of hell around the cittadini , you know how superstitious they are. They’ll be no end of trouble now that we have a plague of ants.’
Nardo was a good ten years older than Dino, dark in the way common to the peoples of the Diaspora. His horseman’s boots were dull from the road, his starched white tabard muddy. He’d recently replaced his short sword and a new scarlet feather adorned his hat. Nardo always looked in need of shave, a deep shadow of stubble on his firm jaw.
‘Huh. True enough.’ The messenger pursed his lips. ‘Still, hell of a thing. The cittadini didn’t care for them too much.’
‘What did they do?’
‘Lit torches, drove them off with smoke. What did Anea make of it?’
Dino was long acquainted with Nardo’s lack of formality, even when discussing Lady Diaspora. It was one of the reasons he liked the man so much.
‘She said something about “meteorological conditions” and “geographical displacement” then something about “preventing inbreeding”.’
‘Pity she couldn’t tell some of the houses about that last one a few generations ago.’
Dino cracked a smile and and shook with silent laughter. Nardo grinned, taking out his pipe and stuffing it with moondrake leaf, more commonly known as luna .
‘I expect she’ll discuss it with Virmyre and they’ll come up with a theory. None of us will understand and we’ll all be no better off than if nothing had happened in the first place.’
‘Sounds like science,’ agreed Nardo.
‘Sounds like a waste of time.’
‘It’s happened before,’ said the
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