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

Oray stood, glanced at Ga’Shel. “Ready?”

Ga’Shel nodded, pushed his plate away, tossed a napkin on top of it, stood up. Davrosh looked at the two.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Someone found a body in the Quarry,” Oray said. “City Guard sent word this morning.”

“We’ll go with you. We’re headed there, anyway.”

“No. I need you two in the city, thinking about Reishi Galagrin.”

“We thought we’d have enough time if we left in the morning.”

“I said no. I’ll make it an order if I have to. I want you focused.”

“Galagrin Manor is on the east side of Hammerfell. We’d be close enough to—”

“That’s an order, Master Davrosh.”

Davrosh said nothing, stared at Oray with a look that was half frustration and half wounded pride. The wolf was in Oray’s eyes. His face was all hard lines and hunger. His mouth turned down at the corners, like an elder scolding a child. Or an elf tolerating a lesser creature. Davrosh slumped her shoulders, slid lower in her chair. She almost pouted, which had the opposite effect of her grin. Her chin seemed smaller, her eyes larger. It would almost have been attractive, if she hadn’t looked so broken.

“Piss off, Oray,” Sorrows said. “It was my idea.”

“I don’t care whose idea it was. I don’t want you two anywhere near the Quarry. Understood? We need to stay focused oncatching Jace. If you hadn’t been busy counting her teeth with your tongue, you might have stopped her from killing Zvilna Gorsham.”

Sorrows stood, tossed his fork on his plate, loudly. Heads turned. The dining hall quieted. He took a step closer to Oray, looked down at him. Tipped his chin, emphasized his looking down at him.

“I don’t take orders from you, and I don’t need you telling me what to think about. I’m going to the Quarry. I have some unsavory splitting business to tend to. Davrosh could tag along, maybe whisper in my ear, maybe make me feel a little guilty. I might second-guess my approach. Or she can stay back, and I can wreak whatever havoc I see fit, unhindered and with a clear conscience. Your call. Either way, I’ll be back in time to spend the night in Reishi Galagrin’s bedroom. And you won’t hear me complaining about it.”

Oray’s face reddened. His jaw clenched. Thirty mage guards listening; two Masters watching; one order given; one human raging. No high road, no middle ground. No leverage. He took a breath, then another. He stared hard at Sorrows. When he spoke, his voice was calm, collected.

“I can’t stop you, Sorrows,” he said. “So go. Do what you will. See to your unsavory business. But Remma stays. She’s my best, and I won’t risk her.”

The dining hall was silent. Oray stared at Sorrows, Sorrows stared back. Davrosh shifted in her seat, frowned. She glanced at Sorrows, gave a small shake of her head, looked away.

“Such an orchole,” she said.

Sorrows lifted his chin, nodded at Oray. “Good enough for me. When do we leave?”

Ga’Shel laughed. The sound was bright, loud, and smug. It echoed once off the walls, twice off the ceiling, then he and Oray disappeared. Sorrows shrugged and returned to his chair. Conversation trickled into a steady flow. Davrosh leaned forward, kept her voice low.

“What in all hells was that about? I respect La’Jen Oray. He’s a good elf.”

“No such thing,” Sorrows said. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Besides, if you hadn’t said anything he wouldn’t know our plans.”

“This is my fault?”

“Basically.”

“Basically?”

“Essentially,” Sorrows said. He stood. “In a manner of speaking. But it doesn’t matter. Can’t call an arrow back to the string. Let’s go.”

Davrosh knit her brow, wrinkled her nose, contorted her mouth until her face matched her unkempt hair. She leaned forward in her chair, sprawled across the table.

“Go?” she asked.

“How many people die in the Quarry each day? One, two?”

“Sometimes none.”

“But sometimes more.”

“Sure.”

Sorrows raised his eyebrows, stared at her. And?

“Gods,” Davrosh said. “Why would the City Guard call the tower?”

“Could only be one of two things.”

“A gods-born died.”

“Possibly. Or they found another corpse like that half-born Oray brought in.”

“I sure as hells hope not.”

“Right. So, let’s go.”

Davrosh stared at him. I’mnot disobeying an order. He stared back. Yes. You are. They wasted a minute of time, maybe two. Eventually, she sighed, pushed her dishes to the center of the table, and they walked back to his room. Eventually, they met in the entrance hall, two cloaks, two bows, a human, and a half-born. Eventually, they stepped off stone pavers onto gravel, and traveled shadowed paths deep into the Quarry.

Later, Sorrows would think of those minutes spent staring, and he would wonder how different the morning would have been without them.

Chapter 36

EVERY LIGHT CASTS a shadow. Every shadow has a heart. A well of darkness deeper than that surrounding it. Cold, hidden. Far from gray edges and prying eyes. It is not evil, nor is it good. It doesn’t cause suffering, nor does it heal. It simply is. Yet a shadow’s heart becomes a reservoir for those dark thoughts that twist the light. A thought of envy from a thought of love. A thought of lust from a thought of beauty. A thought of murder from a thought of peace. Every light casts a shadow. Every shadow has a heart. Every Quarry has a Beggar’s Hollow.

It was a matter of population. Hammerfell was home to dwarves, goblins, elves, the occasional orc, and various half-born—predominantly dwarf-goblin. Three million mouths. Mouths that ate and drank. Food and drink that served its purpose, then passed out of the city through underground channels tunneled in stone. Dwarf ingenuity and elf magic. Beggar’s Hollow ran along the northwest edge of the Quarry, downslope from the elevated flats of Hammerfell onto the plains. Down slope made it the ideal landscape for emptying tunnels and collecting the excess of the city in wide basins where it was treated with more elf magic. The magic filled the air with floral and herbal scents, but