to look out over the wall of the terrace to the glistening waters far, far below.
“Maybe you ought to be charging me less of a commission, then,” he offered.
Rulan snickered and took another deep gulp of his drink—a drink that Jace, reluctantly, was paying for. “You find another banker willing to keep accounts in four different districts, under four different names, and see what sort of deal he’ll offer you.” He belched once, covering his mouth with the back of a well manicured hand, and then frowned. “Berrim,” he said more seriously—for that was the name by which he knew his young client, the name under which Jace did all his business in Dravhoc—“you know I’m giving you a damned good deal already.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then I suggest,” Rulan said, rising to his feet, “that you consider either a somewhat less extravagant lifestyle or a somewhat more extravagant income.” He bowed once, with an almost ludicrous flourish, and left his bemused companion to pay the tab.
Swirling a mouthful of tea around his tongue, Jace lifted the coin purse, let it sit in the palm of his hand. Half? He was going to have to find another “patron,” and none too swiftly. He’d always been careful about how much he demanded, how heavily he wielded the secrets that he found so easy to acquire, but he wondered now if perhaps he hadn’t been too conservative with his latest mark. Grumbling to himself in a very un-aristocratic manner, he turned his gaze once more to the river below. He always found it calming, but today it offered minimal comfort. Perhaps …
A surge of fear from the other customers of the café, a tide of emotion Jace could sense without effort, was his only warning. Instincts born partly of experience, and partly ingrained in his mind and soul as his birthright,had him toppling sideways in his chair and ducking under the heavy table before his conscious mind even identified the threat. A blast of searing fire roared from the heavens and sprayed across the stone under which he huddled. His lungs felt seared by the heated air, and he smelled the tips of his hair burning away.
Still, the table was broad, and the air obscured with smoke. If his attacker hadn’t seen him duck underneath, he might do well simply to wait, to remain hidden and allow the authorities to deal with whatever was going on. Dravhoc was, after all, wealthy enough to employ patrols of the Cloud-Winged Guard. An organization made up of a few surviving remnants of what had once been the Legion of Wojek, former keepers of Ravnica’s law and order, they boasted a reputation for dealing with lawbreakers swiftly, efficiently, and permanently. Let them risk life and limb confronting whatever had hurled fire at him.
Between the crackling of nearby potted plants that had ignited in the conflagration, and the pounding feet and panicked screams of the fleeing bystanders, Jace heard something new, the sound of claws clacking across the tabletop above him.
Something had ridden the fire to earth
.
Muttering a handful of curses, he tensed. The Cloud-Winged Guard’s numbers were few, and the districts they patrolled quite large. If something was hunting him in the plaza, waiting for their unpredictable response was no longer an option.
Glancing over his shoulder, he measured the distance to the nearest exit, wanting desperately to run. He might make it but without knowing what was clawing its way across the table, or how far it might chase him, he certainly wouldn’t have bet what little money he had left on his chances.
A quartet of Jaces lunged from beneath the table, each sprinting in a different direction to take coverbeneath or behind some other flame-resistant obstruction, this one a pillar, that one another table. The thing that had skittered across the stone watched all four. Its ears lay back in confusion, and it stretched its mouth wide to utter an angry hiss that was the crackle of a dozen bonfires.
It might have been a
“Maybe you ought to be charging me less of a commission, then,” he offered.
Rulan snickered and took another deep gulp of his drink—a drink that Jace, reluctantly, was paying for. “You find another banker willing to keep accounts in four different districts, under four different names, and see what sort of deal he’ll offer you.” He belched once, covering his mouth with the back of a well manicured hand, and then frowned. “Berrim,” he said more seriously—for that was the name by which he knew his young client, the name under which Jace did all his business in Dravhoc—“you know I’m giving you a damned good deal already.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then I suggest,” Rulan said, rising to his feet, “that you consider either a somewhat less extravagant lifestyle or a somewhat more extravagant income.” He bowed once, with an almost ludicrous flourish, and left his bemused companion to pay the tab.
Swirling a mouthful of tea around his tongue, Jace lifted the coin purse, let it sit in the palm of his hand. Half? He was going to have to find another “patron,” and none too swiftly. He’d always been careful about how much he demanded, how heavily he wielded the secrets that he found so easy to acquire, but he wondered now if perhaps he hadn’t been too conservative with his latest mark. Grumbling to himself in a very un-aristocratic manner, he turned his gaze once more to the river below. He always found it calming, but today it offered minimal comfort. Perhaps …
A surge of fear from the other customers of the café, a tide of emotion Jace could sense without effort, was his only warning. Instincts born partly of experience, and partly ingrained in his mind and soul as his birthright,had him toppling sideways in his chair and ducking under the heavy table before his conscious mind even identified the threat. A blast of searing fire roared from the heavens and sprayed across the stone under which he huddled. His lungs felt seared by the heated air, and he smelled the tips of his hair burning away.
Still, the table was broad, and the air obscured with smoke. If his attacker hadn’t seen him duck underneath, he might do well simply to wait, to remain hidden and allow the authorities to deal with whatever was going on. Dravhoc was, after all, wealthy enough to employ patrols of the Cloud-Winged Guard. An organization made up of a few surviving remnants of what had once been the Legion of Wojek, former keepers of Ravnica’s law and order, they boasted a reputation for dealing with lawbreakers swiftly, efficiently, and permanently. Let them risk life and limb confronting whatever had hurled fire at him.
Between the crackling of nearby potted plants that had ignited in the conflagration, and the pounding feet and panicked screams of the fleeing bystanders, Jace heard something new, the sound of claws clacking across the tabletop above him.
Something had ridden the fire to earth
.
Muttering a handful of curses, he tensed. The Cloud-Winged Guard’s numbers were few, and the districts they patrolled quite large. If something was hunting him in the plaza, waiting for their unpredictable response was no longer an option.
Glancing over his shoulder, he measured the distance to the nearest exit, wanting desperately to run. He might make it but without knowing what was clawing its way across the table, or how far it might chase him, he certainly wouldn’t have bet what little money he had left on his chances.
A quartet of Jaces lunged from beneath the table, each sprinting in a different direction to take coverbeneath or behind some other flame-resistant obstruction, this one a pillar, that one another table. The thing that had skittered across the stone watched all four. Its ears lay back in confusion, and it stretched its mouth wide to utter an angry hiss that was the crackle of a dozen bonfires.
It might have been a
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