Warsinger by James Baldwin (most important books of all time txt) 📕

our world, the dragons were able to use formulas beyond our imagination to traverse space and time, raise the dead and heal the sick, create and destroy mountains. Much of their sophistication was lost in the cataclysm that ended their civilization. The Aesari regained some of it once the ashes settled, enough to raise cities into the sky and oppress all the other races of the planet. But they, too, fell… and we have not yet been able to recover the knowledge lost with their extinction. Few human minds were able to learn and practice magic of that level, but the Arch-Smith was one of them. It is said Sachara owed her divinity to his artificing, and the lines you see here on this medallion are highly compressed formulas, instructions for some kind of magic I cannot even fathom.”

“Interesting.” Suri frowned, looking down at it. “No idea what it says?”

“No. No artificer alive could probably make sense of the formulas engraved on this piece. I know they are historical, but I cannot read them.” He nodded. “In truth, whatever role it played in history is probably long past. However, as a historical artifact, it is exceedingly valuable to the right people.”

“Right. What else do you know about the Arch-Smith?” Suri asked. “Like, places he’s been, places he might have lived?”

“He lived wherever his queen needed him. The Arch-Smith was one of the Empress’s husbands, which is why you need to take this and hide it immediately,” Aksil replied. “There's a pogrom happening right now, and talk of the old dynasty is enough to get someone killed. Fireblooded women like yourself are in the firing line.”

Suri recoiled. “A pogrom? On Fireblooded?”

“The Sultir's soldiers have been hunting and arresting any Fireblooded women unfortunate enough to draw attention to themselves, along with every mage and artificer below Cloud City level. The ‘official’ stance is that Fireblooded terrorists were responsible for the destruction of Al-Asad, and they have declared 'war' on all Casteless to deter future violence.” Aksil rolled his eyes, reaching up to gently stroke his whiskers. “The rumor on the street is quite different. It seems that someone, or several someones, appeared in court and began whispering this madness in the Sultir's ear, convinced him to declare this 'war on filth'. The days where soldiers would beat you and throw you back down into the Undercity are gone. Anyone caught upstairs is killed, burned alive in Martyr's Square in front of the city jail. If they don't make their quota, they come down here and raid our homes for victims.”

Suri and I glanced at each other. The Dakhari Emissary in Taltos hadn't even hinted about this taking place. Ignas hadn't mentioned it... which meant either he hadn't known, it was being done in secret, or both.

“Would anyone know who those new faces in the Sultir's court might be?” Suri asked.

The Meewfolk wagged his head. “I do not, nor do I care to. That information is too dangerous for the likes of me. Only the Slum Queens and the Guilds trade in that kind of gossip. I DO happen to know one thing that might assist you in finding your source, but I am a poor appraiser, and your fee only covered one service.”

Suri grinned mirthlessly at him. “After forking out ten olbia for that pap, it'd better be less than two dinar, or you'll be giving us that other tooth of yours, too.”

He held out a hand. “How convenient. Two dinar is the price for my information.”

Suri flipped him the equivalent Vlachian coins – a single copper lintz. “There. Pony up.”

The Meewfolk made a soft sound under his breath, and leaned forward. “The Morning Stars are searching for Sacharan artifacts like these, for reasons that have nothing to do with revolutionary fervor. And that is because they are relying on the protection of Davri the Laundress.”

Suri clicked her tongue, reeling in her chair a little. “Oh jeez.”

“Mmhmm. Talk is that she is sparing no expense on researching the subject of the Demon Queen, up to and including hiring a sage from the over-city... a noted historian and genealogist, name of Mehkhet the Illuminator.”

“A genealogist?” I rubbed a hand over my mouth, thinking. “Is this Davri person a Sachara fan-girl or something?”

“She's one of the Slum Queens. Arguably the worst of the Slum Queen,” Suri said. “Fireblooded tribes are matriarchal. All six of the city’s Slum Queens claim to be the descendants of Sachara's line.”

“I thought the matriarchal line was wiped out?” I frowned.

“It was.” Aksil wagged his head. “Queenship and names were passed down through daughters in the Old Kingdom, but Sachara was Starborn. Many Fireblooded women are sterile, but she was a fertile woman in her prime for over a hundred years. Sachara and her brood had sons, many of them. Those sons went on to father daughters, and those who knew they were of royal blood passed that knowledge down as the centuries rolled by. Davri has recently been obsessed with proving her ‘birthright’, for some reason. The pogrom has wiped out several key figures in the Slum Guilds and the Syndicates, so perhaps she is trying to legitimize herself?”

Suri's eyes flicked to the side, pulling over a quest alert we couldn't see. “Guess we're about to visit the laundries, then.”

Chapter 37

The laundry zone was worse than the rest of the Undercity, because not only was it dark and rank, it was wet. My lungs seemed to clench up around the odors of bleach, mildew, food waste and sewerage. The air was smokey from the trash the locals burned to fuel the industrial copper boilers that filled the workshops around here. They didn't only do laundry here, despite the name. We saw carts laden with garbage, small bent metal pieces and broken pottery. Children sorted through heaps of trash on the muddy sidewalks, separating out useable scrap from food waste.

“You’re telling me the most powerful crime boss in the city lives HERE?” I asked Suri. “This is like a