Shield and Crocus Read Online Free Page B

brush into the far street. Like the others, it was littered with debris, organic and artificial. The air popped with a dazzling array of colors. But still no girl.
    A half-dozen citizens on the street stopped to watch Sapphire. The Spark hadn’t seemed to touch anyone on this side of the street, and no one looked injured. Most of the locals were doubtless huddled inside their homes, hoping that the buildings would shield them.
    They’d go back to their routines and live on a street where the cobblestones were purple, the sidewalks a swamp, and their buildings made of chitin. Over the years, many neighborhoods had been abandoned after Spark-storms, but some continued on, residents adapting to their new environs.
    It’s amazing what people can get used to in fifty years.
    Sapphire pulled a dying ten-foot-long cockroach out of the street, legs still twitching despite a missing head. She shook her head in befuddlement, and then saw a flash of movement at the edge of her vision.
    Sapphire narrowed her eyes and followed the motion— a cloaked figure hauling something behind it. She lumbered up to a run as the cloaked figure disappeared behind a lamp and several wrecked motor trikes. The cloak looked familiar, but just as out of place as the cockroach. Is that a warlock? Here?
    Sapphire bounded over the trikes and cut off the cloaked figure. It was a warlock Guard —one of Magister Yema’s bound slaves. The warlock Guard came from all of the city’s races, but they dressed in the same ragged brown robes and hoods. This warlock was far outside his master’s domain—there had to be a reason for his presence. Something to bring to the group. Maybe First Sentinel will have an idea.
    The warlock dragged a child behind him, thick red curls bouncing along as she strained to keep up. Her dress was actually a green shirt that fell below her knees. It probably belongs to her father, or older brother. She thought of her own brother, and wished a quick prayer for his safety to the City Mother.
    Sapphire drew up to her full height and filled the street with her booming voice. “Let her go!”
    Instead, he ran. Really?, she wondered, overtaking the warlock after three quick strides. She grabbed his arm, breaking the warlock’s grip on the girl. Sapphire closed her fist and felt the cracking of bones. The warlock cried out in wordless pain.
    The girl dropped to the street and then scurried away with a whimper. The warlock produced a wand from his cloak and spat a curse at her. A blast of force from the wand hit her full in the chest. She staggered back a step, but only just. A shot like that would crack an Ikanollo’s ribs, but to her it was no worse than a stiff punch.
    Sapphire lifted the warlock over her head with both arms. His fingers danced in arcane patterns, but she interrupted his spell by slamming him into the loose rocks of the street. He raised the wand once again, so she snapped it in half between her fingers.
    “None of that,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
    Instead, the warlock foamed at the mouth. Damn. The warlock grew hot to the touch, and she kicked him across the street. The warlock’s skin bubbled under the cloak, and she watched as the suicide spell Magister Yema put on each warlock dissolved the man into a boiling puddle.
    Sapphire shuddered, looking away. Medai Omez had been a cruel master, but he’d never had that much control over the Freithin. Praise be to the City Mother.
    She scanned over the bodies, looked for movement or scraps of the dress. A moment later, she saw the girl hiding behind a fresh-baked bread cart that had doubtless been made of wood before the storm. The girl’s eyes were covered by wild hair, the kind that took hours of brushing to tame. Sapphire’s hair had been that long once, when she lived in the pens and had made a brush out of loose bits of wire and a broken broom shaft.
    Sapphire approached and held out a hand the size of the girl’s head. “It’s all right. I