Burning Bright Read Online Free Page B

sneak in and throw me out, at which point I'll scale the wall. I like the hymns. Can we please stop discussing this every single time I go and listen to them?"
    Pechal made a face but dropped the matter, tongue between his teeth as he lost himself in drawing. Leaving him to it, Raz picked through what little food they had left. Little food, but plenty of coin, he thought happily. They would have to treat themselves to a nice breakfast and a nice lunch and a nice dinner. He couldn't remember the last time they'd been able to eat more than once a day.
    Maybe he could persuade Pechal to get a better winter jacket. Raz looked surreptitiously to where Pechal was drawing, the lamp set between their beds so he could see, all but smothered in piles of blankets. Raz seldom felt the cold as sharply as Pechal; the winters were nice because he actually felt comfortable rather than too warm for once.
    He frowned when he saw Pechal rub his forehead and grimace in pain. "What's wrong?" he asked.
    "Nothing," Pechal said irritably.
    "I can tell."
    Flicking his fingers, Pechal said, "Douse it."
    "No need to be mean," Raz chided. "Your head was bothering you when we left, but I thought it had tapered off. Not getting sick, are you?"
    Sighing, Pechal set his book aside and slumped down in his blankets, not quite dragging them up over his head. "No, I'm fine. My head aches and there's a weird, I dunno, buzzing sort of noise, but I'm sure it's just from working too hard to find the Blood Tear or whatever it was called. Sleep and a good breakfast will sort me out."
    "We've definitely earned a good breakfast," Raz said, making a mental note to slip away at some point and spend some coin on medicine powders.  "Go to sleep, then. I hope you feel better."
    "Warm rest," Pechal muttered, and he dragged the blankets up to shut out the cold completely. Raz smiled faintly and doused the light. Removing his boots, he settled on his own bedding, stretching out with his hands behind his head and staring up at the dark ceiling he couldn't really see.
    He was not surprised when Pechal began to toss and turn in his sleep. Smiling faintly, Raz began to sing again, softly. After a few minutes, Pechal stilled, quieted, and finally fell into a restful sleep. Letting his words fade away, Raz turned onto his side, facing the crawlspace door, one arm still pillowing his head while the other propped on his hip.
    As much as he wanted to sleep himself, it simply would not come. It was not an uncommon problem for him, but it was tiresome. After all the work they had put into their latest job, he should have been exhausted.
    Sighing, he sat up and pulled his boots back on, and then fled the room, slowly making his way back down to the sanctuary again. Instead of stopping at the mezzanine level, however, he went all the way down.
    He and Pechal had taken up residence in the cathedral three years ago, shortly after moving to the Heart from the port town where they had met. Business was better in the Heart, and it was also much more difficult for the authorities to catch them. Even with the palace only minutes away, the guards were spread too thin to worry about a couple of petty thieves.
    Though Raz suspected that after stealing the Tear of Blood from the Duchess of Ilarion they would no longer be considered petty. He hoped that, whatever Sasha intended to do with it, the heat would not singe him and Pechal.
    Raz slowly made his way down the walkway between the dark wooden pews, admiring the paintings that adorned the walls. Murals, he thought they were called, but wasn't certain. Windows ran across the entire length of the cathedral along the top, and there were more skylights in the beautiful, winding spires far above his head. He'd heard that the royal cathedral had windows of colored glass cut to form pictures, but did not know if that was actually true.
    The paintings in this cathedral told stories. There was one great painting behind the altar that had all nine of the