Assassin of Curses: (The Coren Hart Chronicles Book 3) by Jessie Eaker (best novels in english TXT) 📕

was rugged with rocky crags, mostly bare of vegetation. Going down the center of the valley was a wide well-used road. I noticed there were a few carts scattered along it, as well as the occasional cluster of people. In the distance to the east, there were patches of greenery and what looked like a city. That had to be Da’Meigoxi, the west’s entry to the Kuiojia Empire. For just on the other side was one of the few gates through the colossal myst barrier that protected it: The Grand Tapestry.

It was said to be the largest myst barrier ever constructed. So large in fact that it completely encircled the region. Quite the engineering feat that took over seventy-five years to build. Its actual name had long since been banished to the dusty volumes of history. But in recent times, it had simply become known for how it appeared at night—a giant glowing tapestry of color stretching into the distance. I was looking forward to seeing it myself.

The barrier had been put in place shortly after the war with the Dark Avenyts. At that time, the region was made up of twelve separate kingdoms, and they had been hit particularly hard by the war. The kings of the region had united to erect the barrier and prevent any future attacks. Then hundreds of years later, the separate kingdoms had been united rather forcefully into the Kuiojia Empire.

I did have one nagging worry about the gate—no one with a curse was allowed to pass through. That meant Zofie, Cabrina, and I would be prevented from entering. Until recently, I had never understood why. But it made perfect sense once you understood that the Dark Avenyts were actually curses. However, we had been invited, so I had to assume there would be some sort of accommodation made for us.

We found an unused trail leading downward and soon joined those on that dusty road heading toward the city. Having to guide Zofie slowed us down, but as Kaleefah had predicted, we arrived at the gates of the small town late afternoon. We decided to spend the night in the city and tackle The Grand Tapestry in the morning.

Fumiko, in her native language, easily negotiated our entrance toll with the city guards. She had explained before that the fee would be high, but I wasn’t expecting outrageous. It claimed a good chunk of our remaining silver.

The sun reached toward the horizon and cast long shadows down the city streets as we searched for an inn. A merchant standing in line with us had assured us a good one lay close by. I had expected the city to be bustling with end-of-day activity but found it was surprisingly light. Only a few merchant stalls were open, most having already closed, and the ones remaining had questionable merchandise.

I quickly noticed that everyone had one thing in common—they watched us with hungry eyes.

I leaned toward Fumiko. “Why do I feel like we’re being sized up for dinner.”

Fumiko’s expression didn’t change. “Because we are. Although they would more likely consider us just a snack.”

“But with the tapestry gateway located here, I thought there would be a rich trade.”

She shook her head. “At one time, you were right. But things have changed. The city’s tariffs have continually grown over time so that no goods enter. With the high tariffs in the city, most of the real goods never reach here. They instead pass directly through other portals just outside the gateway. It has made for some strange economics.” She sighed. “The situation in the city tends to attract those who don’t mind using their knives to get a morsel or two.”

I glanced around, suddenly uncomfortable.

Under the watchful eyes of the town, we eventually reached the recommended inn. While the innkeeper scowled at us when we entered, the common room was full of laughter and the murmur of conversation. Judging from the gathered crowd, I doubted there would be a room for us. However, the food being served smelled delicious, and my stomach reminded me that my last meal had been over a thousand miles away.

A thin woman, in simple shirt and pants, sat cross-legged in the far corner playing some type of lyre. Her hair was long and loose and concealed her eyes as she played an unfamiliar tune. At least it wasn’t The Cursed Knight. The performer was built nothing like Fumiko, but something about her reminded me of my friend. I couldn’t figure out what it was.

Fumiko approached the innkeeper and began talking with him in her native language. The performer finished her song and carefully set her instrument aside. Fumiko had her back to the performer, so the innkeeper leaned around her to yell something at the woman. Apparently, he wasn’t pleased that she had stopped.

She shouted something in reply and held up her empty mug. He rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated, and turned back to Fumiko to resume their negotiation.

The woman stood, going from sitting cross-legged to standing in one smooth, elegant action. It was a familiar movement. Where had I seen that before?

Carrying her mug, she stepped toward Fumiko and the innkeeper. I glanced down and saw the woman’s feet were bare. Nothing unusual about that. I had seen a lot of barefooted people in the streets. No, the way her feet moved—

My eyes went wide.

A mug suddenly shattered against the far wall and all eyes in the room went in that direction—except for mine and the woman’s. Our gazes locked.

Her eyes were ice cold.

I shoved Fumiko out of the way, stepping up to catch the woman’s descending arm. The dagger her hand now held stopped inches from my chest. Surprise flashed across her face. She reversed and brought up her knee, but I shifted my hips to block. We danced. She tried to break my hold while I doggedly hung on.