The Final Strife - Page 144

Anoor had never crossed the Tongue before. In all her twenty years she had only left the walls of the Keep twice. She’d read plenty of stories about the seashores of the northern coast and the fields in the eastern plains. Gorn hailed from one of the smaller villages in the west and used to tell Anoor bedtime stories of the desert lions that roamed her village.

But nothing prepared her for stepping into the painting she had looked upon for most of her life. Even the Ruta River captivated her. The bubbling blue sand looked warm and welcoming as it swirled into waves and eddies. She knew it was quicksand, but seeing it up close, she had to stop herself from diving in.

Now she was in the Ghosting Quarter, the Dredge as Sylah called it, and she understood why Sylah had made her change. These Dusters and Ghostings had nothing.

Anoor’s hand tinkled the slabs she had in her pocket. She’d stashed them when Sylah wasn’t looking in the hope that she could buy a memento of their trip. She realized now how much she’d misjudged the destination.

“Are you lost?” asked a man crouched in the crumbling remains of a Ghosting home.

“No, I’m just waiting for a friend.”

“Aho, a friend.”

“Yes, a friend.”

He winked and smiled at her. His teeth were a deep red. He was a joba seed user. She felt a prickle of fear.

“Can I trouble you for some money?” He pushed himself away from the doorframe. Blue sand glittered around him from the crevices in the roof. He took a step toward her.

“I…I don’t have any money.”

“But you’ve got a debt to pay. See the ground over there? That’s my land.”

Anoor looked at the dusty ground where Sylah had left her. Did Sylah know it was private property?

“Eeyah, there’s a trespassing fine in this quarter. We are policed by a different warden.”

Anoor swallowed and stuffed her hands deeper in her pockets. “H…how much is the fine?”

“Three slabs.”

She deflated in relief, she had ten times that in just one hand.

She counted the money in her hand and handed the slabs over to him.

“Three slabs for each foot.”

Anoor frowned.

“But I’ll give you a discount, all in for ten slabs.”

She backed away slowly, but he moved in step with her.

“What’s wrong, girlie? Ain’t used to paying your way in life?”

He cackled, and it looked like his mouth was filled with blood.

Anoor looked behind her, but Sylah was nowhere to be seen. She’d disappeared into the house and hadn’t returned.

Anoor ran as fast as she could, and she only stopped when she could no longer hear the calls of “girlie” on the wind.

She looked back the way she’d come. The morning sun beat down on her exposed neck, and she placed her hand on the hot skin.

“Curse the blood, now I’m lost.” The streets were deserted. Suspiciously so, she thought.

She backed into an empty doorway to wait for Sylah. It was an old building, made from limestone and not reinforced by bloodwerk runes, like some of the other relics in the empire. She traced her finger down the crumbling wall and wondered how long the walls had stood for.

So many of the villas in the Ghosting Quarter had been decimated by the tidewind and not rebuilt. She appreciated why it was now called the Dredge and not the Ghosting Quarter; she had seen so few Ghostings.

Tags: Saara El-Arifi Fantasy
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