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

seriously.” I fell in behind Suri as we were led deeper into the compound.

We were led through a series of horseshoe archways and down an arcade, through a heavy wooden gate – also guarded – and into a second, enclosed courtyard. Rays of sunlight, the Undercity's most precious resource, strayed down through the cracks of the city above and played along a series of garden beds that grew around the perimeter. There were more guards back here, though they were more relaxed. One was strumming a guitar-like instrument. Four others played dominos. And at the back…

“Casper?” I hissed, mostly to myself.

“Who?” Vash asked.

Casper looked much as I remembered from our brief time at Fort Palewing: a big, dark-skinned guy with a short ponytail of tight cornrows. He was built like a tank, with a big chest and brawny arms, but he played some kind of ranged Rogue Path. When I’d met him, he’d had a basic longbow. Now, he was better equipped, with a fancy recurved horn bow and nice half-plate armor that crackled with seams of embers.

His eyes widened. I shook my head, sharply, as a door to the inner house opened and we got our first look at the self-styled Queen of the Slums.

Davri the Laundress was both younger and much, much taller than I’d expected. She had to duck the doorway as she swished out in a gold-trimmed indigo sari, the sash strung with belts of thinly beaten coins. Like Suri, she was athletically built, but Davri was as slim as a willow and almost flat in the chest. Her scarlet hair was dressed in gold and bound back in a plait as thick as my fist, falling almost to her ankles. She was a proud, hard beauty, but pretty as she was, I didn't like her eyes. Unlike Suri, Davri had the dead, hollow eyes of a bonafide psychopath.

The woman strode ahead of her bodyguards, two slender, wiry men in owl masks: men who looked just like my attempted assassin. She flashed us an empty, pleasant smile as our paunchy guide hurried over with an ornate director’s chair for her. Once it was set up, she sat down gracefully, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap.

“Well. What have my faithful menfolk brought me today?” she said, looking over Suri. “A bit older, though still a beauty. But who is this lovely, exotic little flower, with her pale skin and black hair?”

I tensed as Davri’s eyes roamed over Karalti, who bristled under the scrutiny.

“She’s not the reason I’m here, sultira,” Suri said tersely. “I’m here to trade in artifacts and information: the girl is mine.”

“Is she, now?” The woman finally flicked her flat yellow eyes to me, giving me a cursory look, and then to Vash. She lingered on his brutally scarred face. “My man here tells me you have an artifact verified by Aksil the Appraiser. And you… you are Suri Ba’Hadir, formerly of Dhul Fiquar, now a mere vagabond. Though, I will say, that armor says you've done well for yourself, little sister. Very nice armor. I like it.”

Casper uncomfortably wandered over from the back of the courtyard to stand by Davri’s left. He couldn’t look me straight in the eye. There was no sign of his old Warrior companion, Nethres.

“Thanks. Me too,” Suri said, keeping half an eye on Casper. “So, do you want to see what we brought?”

“That depends what you expect to get for it,” Davri said sweetly.

“Information,” Suri replied. “And a connection. We want to meet the Morning Stars.”

Casper stiffened.

“Oh! You wish to become a member of the cause, do you?” The Laundress tilted her head, her earrings and hairpiece chiming softly. “Well, by all means, show me what you have.”

Suri inclined her head toward me. I stepped forward, and pulled the necklace out of my collar. Davri seemed unimpressed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A Shield of the Firmament,” Suri replied. “An artifact forged by Arch-Smith Ba’Nadi, one of Sachara’s husbands.”

“Ohhh. Exactly as Aksil’s messenger told me.” Davri leaned forward. “Here. Let me see it.”

I stepped up, but didn’t take the necklace off. Davri reached out with a slim hand and gently held it up off my chest, turning the medallion over to look at both sides. “What beautiful calligraphy. Would that I knew what I was looking at.”

“You don’t believe his assessment?” Suri’s mouth sloped to the side.

“I believe that everyone and their dog knows I wish to reclaim my rightful inheritance, and that fakes can be very convincing.” The Laundress let out a small, tinkling laugh. “Sorting the gold from the chaff requires a great deal more expertise than that mangy alley cat can offer. That is why I hired Mehkhet the Illuminator, but unfortunately, this Starborn oaf here managed to get himself killed while escorting the sage from his hideout in the over-city to my domain. Mehkhet was captured by the witch hunters. A very unfortunate turn of events for Casper, here.”

I glanced at Casper, who grimaced.

“Mehkhet is now quite possibly being burned at the stake while we speak,” Davri continued, gesturing gracefully toward the underside of the city above. “And until I have the opinion of a true expert, I cannot verify if what you’re hoping to share with me is valuable enough to gain access to the Morning Stars. You must understand: Everyone and their dog is hunting the revolutionaries right now. I cannot betray their identities to just anyone.”

Suri shrugged. “But?”

“But, there are ways to earn trust,” Davri said. “You look more competent than this idiot here. Rescue Mehkhet from the Soldier’s Quarter, and I will introduce you to the revolutionaries in my care. You will not find any other point of access, right now… everyone is on high alert after the Sultir declared that they were responsible for the destruction of Bhakhat Kasir, the fortress that stands between us and Napath. The general populace now believes the Morning Stars are sacrificing them to the undead on the altar of their ideals… that