The city spread out from the base of Mount Nabas, curving in a vast crescent around the lower foothills. In the north, the slopes that caught the sun by day held the wealthiest boroughs and, of course, the castle. Down here in the south, where the shadow of the mountain fell on ancient temples and narrow cobbled streets, life was harder, walls were grimier, and there was nothing to entice a privileged young woman from the castle.
She didn’t stop in the city, though, did she?
No, she’d somehow reached the Nabaspath. Gods.
No one came out here. Walking the path onto the mountainside was seen as foolish at the least. At worst, there were those who believed it could call destruction down onto the entire kingdom.
They said that the Nabaspath once led to a glittering temple, where the ancient people of Aobna worshipped… until somegreat calamity destroyed it all. They said that the Mother gave birth to the Twins—Chaos and Order—deep in the fiery depths of that mountain, and all three slept there still. That the collapse of their temple had already disrupted them in their slumber, and now the path, with its heavy mists and murky shadows, was haunted, if not cursed.
No one wanted to risk the gods’ ire. The great steel forges were moved to the north of the city, taking the skilled blacksmiths and artisans with them. And the area near the start of the path fell into disuse, then disrepair, and finally unrelenting poverty.
Luka’s beast grunted.Grief and loss made them all stupid. There’s nothing haunted here.
Maybe, but it didn’t change the deeply entrenched superstition that surrounded the path and the mountain. It was holy, but dangerous, too. Taboo, even. Narya had no reason to be here in the middle of the night whatsoever. No one did.
Luka turned his attention back to the soldier. “What made you come out here, Sergeant Dashiell?” It was at least half a mile from the nearest city buildings, and this path wasn’t on any city watch rounds that Luka was aware of.
Dashiell’s eyes flicked toward the body. “I saw a light and decided to follow it, sir.”
All the way out here? In the bleak, windswept darkness? “What kind of light?”
Dashiell clasped his hands behind his back in formal rest. “Lamplight, I assume, sir. It was hard to tell in the mist.” He answered politely, but there was clearly more he’d held back.
Luka leaned back on his heels and waited, letting the silence drag. Usually it worked. Usually people filled silence—even sergeants. But not Dashiell. Perhaps his training was too good. Perhaps he was a man of few words. Luka knew enough of thecity guards that he’d seen the man before, but not enough to know truly who he was.
They watched each other in silence for long moments, until Luka grunted and stood. “Please tell me everything that happened,” he prompted. “Any detail might help.”
Dashiell tilted his head to the side in a tiny movement. Scales the deep purple of Azel gems—or ripe mulberries—flickered at his throat. Luka couldn’t see the man’s wrists, but he would bet scales made a ring of bright armor there too.
“My mother lives in Naos, near the entrance to the path,” Dashiell admitted quietly.
She was very poor then. Naos was a ramshackle warren of tenements and storehouses, filled with sailors, prostitutes, and the desperate of the city. Close to the docks. Close to the drifting mists and the dark side of the mountain where no one else wanted to live. And the roads leading to the Nabaspath were the least desirable of all.
Luka’s beast rolled over, unsettled, and he resisted the urge to scribe a quick spiral-ward—a dragon biting its own tail—in the air. He had grown up in Naos. Which, despite the queen’s increasing efforts since she’d taken the throne, remained almost as destitute and hopeless as ever.
He looked more closely at the sergeant, wondering if they might have known each other. He didn’t think so. Dashiell was a few years younger, and Luka had left a long time ago.
“I was worried about my mother,” Dashiell explained, perhaps misreading Luka’s scrutiny. “She survived the red-scale sickness, but it damaged her joints. She had to leave her job as a midwife at the Twins’ Temple, and now she’s alone.” His eyes narrowed. “The city isn’t safe enough.”
Luka nodded slowly. That was undoubtedly true, itwasn’tsafe enough, especially on this side. And then there were the deaths….
Firebreather.
Firebreather, yes. And strange disappearances. Although those ended around the time Rayan…. He pushed that thought away. He didn’t have time for old grief.
“I was in a hurry,” Dashiell continued, unaware of Luka’s moment of distraction. “I needed to get back to my rounds. But my mam’s joints were bothering her. The damp is a problem.”
Luka would bet that was a severe understatement; she was probably in constant, debilitating pain. Most people who caught the red-scale sickness didn’t survive.
“There are large clumps of nettles here,” Dashiell said. “I planned to collect a few handfuls to make a poultice. Mam swears by nettles for heat and swelling, and I hoped it might help. I walked along the path, but it was all brambles. I was about to give up, but then I saw the light.”
“And you followed it?” Luka was impressed. It would take bravery to follow this path in the dark, especially if there were strange lights.
“Only criminals would be out here. I couldn’t just leave them, especially not so close to my mam’s house.” Dashiell shifted slightly onto his heels. “I guess they saw my light just as I saw theirs. The light disappeared—perhaps shuttered. I jogged closer, looking for any sign of who they were. And then I saw her.”
“Did you see anyone nearby? Or anything else? Maybe a weapon?”
“No, sir. I heard someone running, but I stayed here in case she needed help. As soon as I realized she was dead, I ran down the path toward where I saw the light. But it was empty by then.” Dashiell grimaced. “I saw you going into the tavern near the docks when I patrolled past earlier. It was unusual enough that I noticed. And… I hoped you would know what we should do.”
