The Mirrored City Read Online Free Page B

matter for the Inquisition to review, not the local constabulary. I trust that won’t be a problem?”
    Isik went pale as he saw Heath’s silver eyes.
    “You’re from Rivern,” Isik gasped.
    “So you know my reputation.” Heath smiled. “This incident… never happened. I hope I can trust your discretion.”
    “Fuck this.” Isik threw up his hands. “I want no part of it.”
    “Great. So sorry to trouble you… Isik Vadyrov, son of Petr.” Heath tossed a bag of coins onto the slab. “Maddox, let’s get you home.”
    Maddox said, “We should consider working with the local authorities. There’s a—”
    “Tell me on the way home,” Heath insisted.
    “I need to get dressed.”
    “Public nudity is totally accepted in Dessim,” Heath countered.
    “You’re being an ass,” Maddox said, finding his trousers on a table next to his tunic and cloak, which were gore soaked and ripped to shreds.
    “And you’re being unprofessional,” Heath said.
    Maddox jammed his legs into his trousers. “I don’t work for you.”
    “I can leave,” Isik offered.
    “We were just leaving,” Heath and Maddox said in angry unison.
    As they made their way out of the morgue, Heath whispered, “The fuck happened to you?”
    Maddox rolled his eyes and shouldered his way past Heath. “Don’t even fucking worry about it.”

F OUR
    Desperate
    S OREN
    93. Many of the most popular novels in Dessim start with characters of humble beginnings. To those of us writers who are literate, it can be hard to capture the abject desperation that many young men suffer when turned from the workhouses or into the mines. It would be tempting indeed to seek out such people to expand one’s experience.
    However, a good novelist knows that truth is best served in small portions. Few who read books have experienced the inconvenience of begging for food or the embarrassment of lacking adequate clothing. In the Mirrored City, many of these wretches flee to Baash once they are of age to avail themselves of charity rather than work to improve their situation.
    When writing about the less fortunate, one must not make the protagonist so unfortunate the reader loses sympathy. Best to allude to misfortune and continue on to the story of how he rises from adversity.
    —101 WRITING TIPS FOR A GUARANTEED BESTSELLER, 5 TH EDITION, SEXIMUS BOSWELL
     
    SOREN SAT OUTSIDE the steps to the bathhouse with his dirty palms extended in front of him. He wore a ragged vest and tattered trousers. His bare callused feet were dark with street filth. His blond beard and disheveled hair made him look older than his years. His ribs showed through his deeply tanned and peeling skin.
    “Spare a ducat for a bath?” Soren muttered halfheartedly as people poured into the bathhouse. “Ducat?”
    People marched on, some of them avoiding the side of the steps where he sat, plaintively begging for money. The people of Dessim weren’t heartless, but they took a cynical view of beggars too old for the orphanage and too young to be unfit for mining work. He tried, he really did, but the headaches and dizzy spells made it impossible to work the long hours.
    “Soren?”
    An unmistakable voice broke him from his ruminations. Keltis stood in stunned disbelief as he placed his hand against his chest. He was a striking young man with black hair and wore a fabulously tailored ivory and silver embroidered coat over a silk shirt and velvet trousers. His neck was laden with fine golden chains. “Seriously? You’re homeless ?”
    Soren laughed weakly. “And you’re… what? A Bamoran merchant?”
    Keltis smirked. “It’s Thrycean jacquard, love. It’s all the rage these days now that the trade embargo has lifted with the Southern Isles. But seriously, what in the five hells happened to you? Is this some sort of scam you’re running? Because, darling, there are much bigger fish to catch than the minnows who use public baths.” His face sneered slightly.
    “I’m hungry and I’m