The Smoke-Scented Girl Read Online Free

everything. And one of the rumors is that a bald woman
stands near the fires and watches the victim scream. You might
recall that one of the legends has Dania shaving her head to use
her hair to capture Murakot’s chief lieutenant and force him to
give up Murakot’s weakness.”
    “I admit I don’t know much about Alvorian
myth, but I don’t recall Dania being so coldblooded as to simply
watch a person burn to death.”
    “I don’t recall Dania being a real
person.”
    “There’s always a kernel of truth in these
legends. After all, Murakot was a real warlord, though probably not
a creature of magic. And I imagine there’s a kernel of truth in
these stories as well.”
    “So what do you think it is, if I may take
the liberty of assuming you’ve already made some conclusions,
clever fellow?”
    Evon side-stepped a rivulet of water running
toward a nearby drain. “I believe there is a person behind
all of this,” he said. “Unless there is something in these papers
you haven’t told me, not one of the witnesses declared that the
victim had simply gone up in flames. That’s the sort of thing
people would remember. We are dealing with some individual who is
capable of creating fires far hotter than any spell we know can
manage.”
    “That’s unsettling. I might even say,
frightening.”
    “It is indeed.”
    They crossed the street into a neighborhood
of narrow, tall houses that stood four and even five stories above
the quiet street. All were built of black stone and in the light of
the wintry day looked foreboding, what with the beds of frozen,
snow-covered flowers and the bare trees that lined both sides of
the street. The only cheerful note was the brightly colored doors,
reached by short flights of stairs, red and purple and green set
off by the golden brass of door latches. Evon and Piercy had the
street to themselves, shrouded in the strange hush that was the
sound of millions of soft flakes drifting to the ground. Their
boots left prints on the sidewalk that immediately began to fill
with snow.
    Evon turned to ascend the stairs of the fifth
house on the right. “Will you come in? Mother will undoubtedly want
to thank you for escorting me home. She believes I’m flighty and
easily distracted, which I find amusing since you’ve told me I’m
the opposite.”
    “I have a dinner engagement, so please give
your mother my apologies.” Piercy tipped his hat at Evon, causing a
small avalanche to fall from the brim. “Good luck, and my thanks
for tackling that somewhat knotty problem. And, Evon?” This as Evon
had put his hand to the latch. “You’re not obsessive. You’re simply
very focused. Try to keep that in mind?”
    Evon smiled and shrugged. “If I must be very
focused, I promise to turn that focus on your problem rather than
my own. At least for the day.”
    He shook the snow from his hat and brushed
off the shoulders of his coat before entering his home. The blue
door creaked a bit, as it had for the last seven years; his parents
always said they’d have to do something about it, but it remained
unoiled and continued to make a sound somewhere between a squeak
and a moan. It was better than a doorbell for announcing one’s
presence. Even so, no one appeared to greet him as he entered and
shucked his overcoat. Well, Father would be at work at this hour,
and Aunt Mayda and Uncle Findlay would be at the tea shop, and his
odious cousin Jessalie would be at school, thank the Twins, and
Mother might be at the church supervising preparations for the
upcoming winter fete. He had the house to himself. The idea made
him feel lonely.
    The entry, unfurnished except for the
coatrack, was painted a plain white and bore only portraits of
long-dead Lorantises; the doors to his father’s study and the
dining room were both closed. It felt empty and as silent as the
snowy street. Evon shivered a little and ascended the stairs to the
fourth floor and his bedroom. The fire was unlit, the logs cold on
the