Read Online The Great Rift by Edward W. Robertson - Free Book Online

enough."
    "Orlen probably smelled smoke," Dante said.
    "When Josun Joh spoke to him, the wind was blowing westward."
    "So he saw the smoke. Fire has a unique property of being visible."
    Mourn tromped through the weeds in silence. "At least tell me where you're going."
    Blays touched the pommel of the sword at his hip. "Oh, just to kick the mayor until the stars whirring around his head show him the sign to tell us where the hell your cousins are."
    "I think Vee hates me," Mourn declared. "Why else would she assign me to you two?"
    "Maybe she hates us ."
    "It's a stupid thing, really. You're running off to gods know where, and what am I supposed to do to stop you? Attack you? I don't think any good will come of that. Except for the local worms. So I'm supposed to run off and tell mommy and daddy like a spited toddler?" Mourn shook his head at the state of things. "You know what, to hell with them. If they want to guard you, they can guard you themselves. We're beating up the mayor? Let's go beat up the mayor."
    The hill sloped down into a low forest of birches and young pines. Star-shaped yellow flowers dotted the roots of the trees. Dante shut his eyes to glance through the fly's and tripped into a pile of pine needles. Smelling sap, he kept his eyes shut.
    "Are you okay?" Mourn said. "I think he's dead."
    "I'm not dead." In the fly's fractured vision, dozens of Bannings hiked up the side of a hillside more or less identical to their own. He ordered the fly up, stomach lurching. He managed to prevent himself from puking until the bug had located them among the trees, confirming the mayor was no more than a half mile away. When Dante was finished, he kicked pine needles over the hot, sour mess, gargled with cool water, and gestured down the hill. "Stop staring at me and start looking for our man."
    They need hardly have bothered. Within a minute, Banning began singing to himself, an eerie, droning tune that carried down the hillside like the honking of morbid geese. When Dante stepped in his path, the spire-tall norren stopped less than a foot away. Dante tensed, preparing to fling himself out of the way.
    "I know you." Banning's face darkened. "Just because the cliff isn't here doesn't mean I won't throw you down it."
    "You should at least hear what I'm about to say," Dante said. "Then some people might even not blame you for what you've done."
    "Talk sense or talk less."
    "That package under your arm. Is your name on it?"
    Banning didn't glance down. "It's the last stroke I make."
    "Typical of most artists, I imagine. Except, apparently, the man who actually paints yours."
    The mayor's gaze was as still and deep as a lake. "Pick up a weapon."
    Dante cocked his head. "What?"
    "So I don't have to say I killed an unarmed man."
    Sudden anger rippled through Dante's veins. With it came the nether, great pools he gathered in his hands. With a thought, he shaped them into shadowy ropes which looped around the tree branches and clawed at Banning's rugged face. The air dimmed like an instant sunset. Dante gave form to the nether for those who couldn't see it, viscous, liquid shadows that dripped from his hands like reluctant blood.
    "I could have threatened you with violence," he said softly. "But I could tell at a glance it wouldn't work, and I'd have to either back down or hurt you, which I don't much like to do. But if you don't answer my questions about the missing norren, I will tell the city where your masterpieces really come from. You'll be exiled from Cling to die as an old man in a place you do not know."
    Anger flowed over Banning's face, followed by a quiver of fear that was clearly visible beneath his thatchy beard. "If someone were to have up and enslaved a clan, you think their fellow norren would be happy to point those people out."
    "Unless?"
    "Unless saying such would threaten the ones that they hold dear."
    "I see."
    "Maybe even an entire town."
    Dante let the taut branches relax. The shadows faded from his hands.