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

the human nearly cost you everything. You underestimate them time and time again. They distract. They make you act the fool. They pull you into action when you should remain hidden. As though he needs rescuing. But you cannot deny your feelings. They must be taken into consideration. They are more than simply acceptable risk; they are inevitable. And, unexpressed, they are crippling. You need to tell him. And he will be with Nisha Davrosh. It is time. Mastery is at your fingertips. This will all be over soon, and the reward is a place in the gods-realm. With you, a god. That is the true goal. After that, you might have anything you desire. Anyone you desire. If the ancients are to be believed, all gods are allowed their mortal infatuations. The human could be yours. It could start with you confessing your love for him, though doing so would leave you exposed, vulnerable. The thought worries you. But even that isn’t the problem.

The problem is the shadow. The same shadow which has been with you during the killings. The same shadow that carried the dagger. The same shadow that was so pleased after Zvilna Gorsham. The shadow is a problem because there is no way in all hells the shadow is a god.

No splitting chance. And that means someone knows about you. Knows everything about you. That makes you more vulnerable than your feelings ever would. That adds risk to Godscry before you’ve even started studying the elves. And that is unacceptable. That demands swift and immediate attention. Which means the next time you see the shadow, you will do what you should’ve done the moment it first appeared. You will kill it.

Problem solved.

✽✽✽

THE DOOR OPENED, and light spilled into the room. But it was not enough to wake Sorrows. The wool coverlet was thrown back; the cotton sheet beneath it as well, leaving him naked on the bed, exposed to the cold. But he still didn’t wake. A hand grasped his shoulder and shook him. A voice spoke. Loud, sharp.

“Get up, Sorrows. It’s the Quarry. Time to hunt.”

Sorrows woke. Woke from a deep sleep. Mind and muscles disconnected but stirring. Heart and breathing slowed but accelerating. One beat, one flash of instinct. His arm snapped upward. He grasped the wrist above the hand on his shoulder. Another beat, another flash of instinct. He rolled, used his strength and weight to pull the figure close. Another beat. His free hand found the figure’s neck. Another beat, no more instinct. He was awake, and Oray was leaning over him, eyes bulging, free hand clawing at the hand around his throat. Sorrows let him go, shook his head.

“Gods, Oray,” he said. “Try knocking next time.”

“He did, orchole,” Davrosh said from the doorway. She grinned, chin stretching. Ga’Shel stood behind her, eyes roaming.

“Take a good look, sunshine,” Sorrows said. He yawned, rubbed his eyes. “I’ll expect dinner before you see me naked a third time.”

Oray rubbed his throat and coughed. His voice was hoarse, pinched. “No time for banter. Bodies. Fresh.”

Sorrows slid out of bed, found his clothes, put them on. Tied his boots, shrugged into his cloak. Strapped on his quiver, then his bow. He joined Oray, Davrosh, and Ga’Shel in the corridor; followed them to the entrance hall, then out into darkness and snow. A sled waited, dogs panted, breath clouded.

“What in all hells,” Sorrows said. “Aren’t we slipping?”

He turned, but Oray and Ga’Shel were gone.

“They are,” Davrosh said. “We’re not.”

Sorrows stepped onto the back of the sled, grabbed the handlebar. “Why?”

“I didn’t ask. Unlike you, I don’t question Oray when he gives me an order.”

“He ordered you to not travel with him and Ga’Shel? Out of the wind? Moving faster?”

Davrosh shrugged. “It’s my turn to steer, orchole.”

“Are you splitting serious?”

She was. He stared, she stared back. He conceded. The dogs ran, and the sled slid over packed snow. He tucked his knees, kept the bow close. The cold helped to wake him, but his eyes ached from lack of sleep. They rode in silence until stone turned to gravel. They approached the tavern, then slowed.

They stopped next to a dozen other sleds and twice as many city guards. Oray and Ga’Shel were already there, talking to captains Bravigan and Gorsham. They glanced at Sorrows and their eyes wrinkled. A few of the guards bent heads, pointed, murmured. Sorrows heard something that sounded a lot like, Shemakes him ride basket. He frowned, strung his bow, ignored a chuckle from Davrosh. Oray waved them over without looking. He stood beside a tavern table, studying a sheet of parchment. It was covered in lines, tangled and black; some roads, some buildings. The angles were all wrong, like a child had drawn the map. A good depiction of the Quarry. Bravigan ran his thumb along a row of squares.

“Blood in the snow here, two bodies inside.” He moved his hand past a road, tapped on three more squares. “More bodies here, here and here. Nothing more.”

Sorrows leaned over, tapped three streets. “If it killed north to south, then you’ll find it on one of these three.”

Oray nodded, ran his finger in an arc. “And if it moved south to north, then any of these.”

“We’re sending the patrols out now. The guards have horns and have been instructed not to engage.”

Sorrows jabbed his finger at a box between roads. “I’ll wait here with Davrosh.”

“I want Ostev there in case the situation escalates,” Oray said.

Sorrows nodded. Bravigan and Gorsham shouted commands. Dwarves scrambled. Ga’Shel disappeared and Sorrows and Davrosh returned to their sled. The horizon was gray with the whisper of sunrise behind thick clouds. Sorrows yawned, knowing he hadn’t found enough sleep. Knowing it didn’t matter.

The day had started for better or worse. And it was the last day before Nisha Davrosh.

✽✽✽

A HORN SOUNDED to the south, like the bleating of a ram. It echoed off stone and timber, split the morning quiet. The dogs stood, perked their ears, turned their