Arrow on the String: Solomon Sorrows Book 1 by Dan Fish (no david read aloud TXT) 📕

She smiled, shrugged. Turned to the corridor and disappeared in a river of black and gray. Sorrows watched the door close, then left to find Oray, Davrosh, and Ga’Shel.

The dining hall was twice as tall as Sorrows, lit by glowstone, and filled with tables of thin granite supported by oak. Chairs were spindle-backed and hard. The floor was stone and cold. No windows. Two doors on opposite walls. A long table in the middle held plates, troughs of food, pitchers of dark ale, mugs of coffee. Guards came and went, the food disappeared. Sorrows spotted Davrosh and joined her.

“Davrosh,” he said.

“Orchole,” Davrosh said. She was distracted, choosing between a side of biscuits or a rasher of bacon. Sorrows reached past her, grabbed both, and tipped them onto a plate with hotcakes floating in syrup. He grabbed a pitcher and looked around the hall.

“Where are we sitting?” he asked.

Davrosh stared at him, red-faced.

“I was looking at those.”

Sorrows shrugged. “You can watch me eat, if you’d like.”

She stomped away, gripping a plate of sausage and potatoes. Sorrows followed her to a corner table where Oray and Ga’Shel waited. She dropped into her chair and frowned at her food.

“Out of biscuits?” Ga’Shel asked, looking at Davrosh’s plate.

She stabbed a potato with her fork and shoved it into her mouth. Said nothing.

Oray turned to Sorrows. “The Valinors refused our request.”

“Refused?” Sorrows asked.

“They told us, politely, to piss the hells off,” Davrosh said around a mouthful of food.

Sorrows nodded, said nothing.

“Where were you last night?” Oray asked. “Ga’Shel said you weren’t in your room when he delivered your uniform.”

“Jace took me out for a walk. Stretched my legs.”

“Who?”

“Ivra Jace,” Sorrows said. “Says she reports to someone higher up the tower.”

Oray frowned. “Higher?”

Sorrows pointed up, said nothing.

“Ivra?” Ga’Shel asked.

“Jace, yes,” Sorrows said. He pointed to the hallway door. “Elf. Wears black and gray. Looks nothing like Davrosh. She’s right outside. I’ll introduce you.”

Oray drummed his fingers on the table, shook his head. “Some other time. What the Archmage wants, the Archmage gets. Be careful, Sorrows.”

“Why?”

Oray looked at Davrosh. She was sucking potato or sausage out of her teeth. She shrugged, said nothing.

“Because she’s a real split,” Ga’Shel said. “And she’s tougher than you think.”

“Yes, and she probably heard that,” Oray said. He sighed. “What’s the plan now, Sorrows?”

“Plan?” Sorrows asked. “How in all hells should I know? Don’t piss off the Archmage, apparently.”

“With the daughters, orchole,” Davrosh said. “Mishma’s family doesn’t want her disturbed. Now what?”

“Change something.”

“What do you mean?”

“The killer expects certain things to behave certain ways. You want to slow him down? Change something. Show him something unexpected.”

“Like what?”

“Skip the dance.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Sorrows said. “Convince the daughters to skip the Maiden’s Dance. See if something happens.”

Ga’Shel laughed. “You try to convince a twenty-six-year-old dwarf to give up her Maiden’s Dance. It will never happen.”

“Has to happen,” Sorrows said. “Or another daughter dies next month.”

“Ga’Shel’s right,” Oray said. “We won’t get anywhere asking them to give up their dance. But maybe we can change something else.”

“We can get them out of their bedrooms,” Davrosh said. “Have them sleep in the dining hall or great room. We’ll start with the first part of the month and work our way through all eighty-three girls. With any luck, early success will make it easier to convince the remaining families.”

Oray and Ga’Shel nodded and said nothing. Oray offered a frown of approval. Ga’Shel weighed the option with small side-to-side tilts of his head. Sorrows watched them for a moment before turning to Davrosh.

“Fine,” he said. “You do that, and I’ll focus on the Quarry.”

“What’s in the Quarry?” Oray asked.

Sorrows nodded at Davrosh. “Who, not what. If you think trauma plays a part, then that’s where we’ll find this guy. Dwarves who are changed by the cursed don’t slip back into dwarf life, they slip through cracks. And where do all the cracks in Hammerfell lead to?”

Davrosh nodded, grinned. “You like my theory.”

Sorrows shrugged. “Maybe you just like it enough for both of us.”

“This works,” Oray said. “Remma, La’Jen, you two start with Ammelo Cheski. Sorrows, you’ll hit the Quarry. Do you want me to assign guards?”

Sorrows shook his head. “I’ll have Jace. She’s enough for me to worry about.”

“Fine. You all have your assignments. Meet back here tonight.”

“You going to cook us dinner?” Sorrows asked.

Oray shook his head.

“No. I’m going to see the Archmage. I need to figure out why she’s taken a sudden interest in my guest.”

✽✽✽

JACE WAS WAITING for him when Oray opened the door and led Davrosh and Ga’Shel into the corridor. She was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Her cloak was folded and draped over her arms. Oray studied her for a moment. A weighing scrutiny, not one of interest. He nodded, she smiled. Davrosh looked her up and down, turned to Sorrows, shook her head. Ga’Shel gave no indication he noticed Jace. Elves. They turned right, headed up the spiral. Sorrows turned left. Jace fell into step beside him.

“What now?” she asked.

Her smile remained, her eyes were bright, and she walked with her hands clasped behind her back. She was the most un-elf-like elf he had met.

“Now I get my bow,” he said. “And then we go back to the Quarry.”

“Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

“The food was good, the company could have been better.”

“Perhaps we can dine together tomorrow morning.”

Sorrows shrugged. “Fine.”

They reached his door; he retrieved his bow and cloak and she took him out of the tower. In the city, preparations had started for the Feast of Nine. Shop owners worked outside, decorating storefronts with bales of hay, pumpkins and gourds, pots filled with Hardy Chrysanthemum. Teams of goblins and half-born wrapped green ribbon around lamp posts. A light snow swirled in the air, but the day was bright beneath pale, gray clouds. The decorations dwindled as the road turned from stone to gravel. The low hum of conversation mingled with the crunching and grinding of stone beneath boots. The smell