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

her line. He thought of her mother, shoulders shaking with slow, silent grief, standing beside the bones of her daughter.

He wondered if Mishma died quickly. He wondered if there was pain. He wondered what it meant for her gods-bond to be broken. He wondered if she had been afraid. He wondered why she hadn’t called out for help. Why she hadn’t struggled.

And he thought of the killer somewhere among the stones and straight roads of Hammerfell. He might be sitting in a tavern, drinking whiskey. Or tucked away in his house, smoking a pipe. Or doing whatever killers did when they weren’t killing. Sorrows didn’t know. And he didn’t particularly care.

At least he hadn’t, until he saw Mishma. After that, he’d started to care quite a bit. After that, he’d started to think it might be nice to meet this killer of daughters. To spend one brief, violent moment together.

Davrosh was right. And maybe he’d tell her someday after they’d caught the killer. Her first guess about Sorrows had been piss poor. He was never their guy. But her second guess was a good one. He had changed his mind because of a woman.

✽✽✽

ZVILNA GORSHAM. YOU say the name out loud, feel the shape of it on your lips and tongue. You have almost three weeks to prepare. You only need an hour. You have nearly mastered the killing of dwarves. One or two more will see your approach perfected. Then you will move on to Godscry and begin your study of the elves. In some ways, you expect the elves to be easier. You know more about them than you do the dwarves. In other ways, they will be more difficult. Elves are, after all, the superior species. They will challenge you. And the Mage Guard will respond tenfold to the death of an elf.

But those are thoughts for the years to come. You need only concern yourself with more immediate matters. Zvilna Gorsham. You say the name once more and smile at the sound of it in your ears. You have always worked your mastery in silence, ignoring the pleas of the daughters, ignoring their threats and questions. You start to wonder what Zvilna might do if you spoke her name. If you spoke only her name, over and over again. It wouldn’t affect your mastery, but it might make the experience more interesting. Perhaps you’ve been foolish to focus solely on the execution of your approach when you could have been finding ways to make it more… enjoyable.

You decide that Zvilna will be different. You’ll keep the same approach, but you’ll add her name. It’s a safe thing to do. Words don’t leave marks. They don’t linger in the air. They don’t stain sheets or rugs. But words can touch a mind, heighten despair, inspire fear. Words, you decide, could do quite nicely.

Chapter 20

MIG DIDN’T SHOW by morning, and Sorrows was sitting on the edge of the bed worrying about it when Jace walked in. No knock. No apology. Just elf arrogance and entitlement, disguised as long limbs and curious blue eyes.

“Is she here?” Jace asked.

“Yes,” Sorrows said. A lie, but safer than the truth.

Jace nodded and glanced around the room before returning her eyes to Sorrows.

“Are you going to put your tunic on?”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“That’s up to you,” she said. Her gaze lingered on his chest.

“What?” he asked. “Never seen a human before?”

She shrugged. “You’re quite—”

“Big?”

“No.”

“Muscular?”

She walked over, brushed her fingers against his sternum, close to the amulet. He tensed. He knew she could move fast when she wanted to. She’d surprised him when she slapped him the day before. If she wanted to take the amulet, she’d have it faster than the snap of a bowstring, and all he’d have left was a line of torn skin where the chain rubbed before it broke. But she didn’t make a move, and her hand dropped to the side.

“Hairy,” she said.

Sorrows shrugged, looked down at his chest. “I’m not hairy at all. Not compared to some.”

“Really?”

Sorrows nodded. “Imagine a dwarf, but taller.”

Jace lifted an eyebrow, then looked away.

“Was she upset?” she asked. “Your goblin friend?”

“Yes.” Possibly a lie, but probably the truth.

“What I did yesterday was a mistake,” she said. “I don’t normally behave so poorly. It’s important to me you know that.”

Sorrows said nothing. Elves didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in their nature to believe they were wrong. This was an anomaly. Perhaps it was why Jace had been assigned to Hammerfell. She wasn’t arrogant enough.

“Is that an apology?” he asked.

“Yes.”

An anomaly. He shrugged.

“Can’t call an arrow back to the string. What’s done is done.”

“You forgive me?”

“Sure,” he said. “It was just one kiss.”

Jace stared at him, said nothing, then turned, walked to the door. Kept her back to him.

“Will we return to the Quarry today? To look for seph?”

“No. Today we introduce ourselves to a twenty-six-year-old dwarf and her family.”

Jace relaxed. “In the city?”

“Yes. Northside. We leave after breakfast.”

“When are they expecting us?” she asked.

Sorrows shook his head. “They aren’t.”

“Will that be a problem?”

“They’re dwarves. What do you think?”

✽✽✽

BREAKFAST WAS BISCUITS and gravy. The biscuits were warm and rich. The gravy was thick and lumpy with bits of sausage. It was good. Stick-to-your-ribs good. Sorrows had two portions and washed them down with a mug of steaming black coffee. Jace had already eaten, so she sat and watched him. She watched him and half the Mage Guard watched her. Nothing obvious, just sidelong glances and lingering stares.

After he finished, they walked the spiral corridor. Sorrows still didn’t know which door led out or which led to his room. He decided if he was ever lost, he’d open everything until he either found the right one or reached the top of the tower, at which point, he’d introduce himself to the Archmage and ask for directions. Until then, Jace knew where she was going and Sorrows was content to follow her. Soon they stepped outside into heavy snow and light wind.

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