Read Online The Kingdoms of Dust by Amanda Downum - Free Book Online

spoon in, rich with cardamom and so sour it was almost salty. His hands tingled from the few sips he’d taken. “Lose her? Follow her?” The brown man had vanished when they sat down, but the woman lingered.
    “There’s no need to rush.” Isyllt pulled a persimmon from her satchel and a small folding knife from her pocket. Juice ran down the blade as she carved the orange fruit into slices. She only used the thumb and forefinger of her left hand—the other three fingers curled toward her palm, hidden in a black glove. “She buys things to keep from being noticed. The longer we sit here, the more she spends.”
    Adam laughed and took the slice she offered. The sweetness shocked him, nearly as potent as the coffee. “Cruel.”
    Sure enough, the woman handed the merchant a handful of coins in exchange for a glass perfume bottle. He read annoyance in the set of her shoulders as she turned away, losing herself in the current of the crowd.
    Isyllt wiped her knife clean and tucked it away. “Do you two want to be alone?”
    When he frowned, she tilted her head toward the sword angled across his lap. His left hand hadn’t left the hilt, absently tracing the grain of the wyrmskin wrappings. An eastern touch on a western blade—the great serpents were rare, and never seen west of the Zaratan Sea. The chunk of amber set in the cross-guard was another, an unblinking orange eye.
    Adam snorted and took his hand away. “It’s been a long time.”
    That earned him a sideways glance and the slow lift of her eyebrows. He blushed, and cursed the sallow pallor of his skin that let her see it.
    Her gaze sharpened and turned back to the market floor. “Now,” she said, taking a last sip of coffee and grimacing at the dregs. “She’s distracted again. Let’s go.”
    They moved casually, twisting through the press toward the doors. “I want to catch her,” Isyllt said. “Are you up for a fight?”
    His hand tightened on the sword. His palms were soft, and his shoulder ached from the weight of the satchel he carried. “No.” The word was bitter, or maybe that was just the coffee on his tongue.
    “I don’t know that I am either.”
    They shared a wry glance. Three years ago, that might not have stopped either of them.
    Sweat sprang up on Adam’s brow as they stepped into the hammerfall of sunlight, thickened with billowing dust. Isyllt squinted into the glare and shook her head. “We’re getting old.”
    “Speak for yourself,” he said. But the lost year was another pushing him closer to forty. Grey flecked the stubble on his scalp for the first time. Not quite doddering yet, but an age when a mercenary had to plan for the future—or rush headlong toward it.
    They ignored the waiting carriages and ducked around the side of the building, where the alleys were crowded with more merchants selling fruit and crafts and fabrics from baskets and handcarts. Adam’s knees and hips and shoulders ached from dodging the crowd, and the light and noise fed the headache growing behind his eyes. He breathed deep and forced the discomfort away, keeping pace with Isyllt’s long-legged stride. The world wouldn’t wait for him to catch his breath.
    Adam watched the entrance while Isyllt pretended to peruse a stand billowing with silk shawls. The bazaar had smaller doors for merchants and security, but if their shadow meant to follow them she would come this way. Heartbeats slipped into moments, and she didn’t appear. Had she lost track of them? Given up? Wrapped herself in sorcery and slipped away unseen?
    Isyllt’s own tactic backfired—she eventually paid the shawl-seller for a black-and-silver scarf and shoved it into her bag. “Where did she go?”
    “I don’t—” Adam broke off as his shoulder blades began to prickle. He spun, to hell with stealth, and caught the brown man watching them from the far end of the alley. The man vanished between stalls as soon as their eyes met.
    “Shadows,” Isyllt swore, and hurried after