City of Fire (City Trilogy (Mass Market)) Read Free

were savages,” Scirye declared.
    “They were also your ancestors,” Kles pointed out.
    “Only on paper,” Scirye argued. “I left the Kushan Empire when I was four. I’m… I’m a citizen of the world. That’s what I am,” she announced, snatching at a phrase she had overheard somewhere.
    Though Kles understood English, he could not read it well so he used it as an excuse now to further his mistress’s education. “What does the display card say?”
    Scirye read it obligingly in a soft voice. “For over two thousand years, the Kushan Empire in Central Asia has sat between the Eastand West. The silk in this case is from China, the ivory from Siam, spices from Malaysia, diamonds from Golconda in India, and felt tapestries from the northern steppes.”
    Kles nodded to the dozens of shining coins laid in rows like offerings before a statue of Kubera, the dwarf god of wealth. “And those come from China, the kingdoms of Alexander the Great’s successors, Persia, Rome, Byzantium, and on into modern times.”
    Scirye, though, cared little about money. “You don’t say?” She yawned.
    When he saw her lack of interest, Kles immediately dropped his lecture on the Silk Road. He glanced about and said, “I think the next case will be more to your liking.”
    Scirye perked up when she saw that it contained weapons and Kles adapted his instruction. “You know, ideas as well as trade goods traveled back and forth along the Silk Road. And your ancestors were great synthesizers, taking the best from the East as well as the West.” He gestured at a gilded, jeweled matchlock. “Kushan engineers improved Chinese gunpowder and used it in iron barrels cast with Byzantine techniques to create guns that kept the Parthians, Huns, Persians, Arabs, and Turks at bay.”
    However, Scirye’s attention was on weapons she could actually use. Her eyes swept from the matchlock to the rows of small golden spiked wheels next to it. Each was decorated with the dancing image of Oesho, the god of destruction whom the Hindus called Shiva but who also wore the lion pelt and club of the Greek hero, Heracles. Above them on the wall were throwing axes. Though the shafts had been decorated with gold and rubies, the axe blades were old steel—relics of a long dead Kushan king whose descendants had honored his memory by replacing the ordinary shafts with ornamental ones. Time and use had worn away the engraving on the blades but Scirye thought they were scenes of Oesho’s battles.
    “I wonder how these would throw?” she wondered out loud.Her sister, Nishke, had instructed her in the use of both stars and axes just last week, for she belonged to the elite guard, the Pippalanta. They were required to be proficient with all weapons from ancient to modern.
    Oblivious to the crowd, Scirye practiced with different throwing motions until Kles scolded, “Stop that. You almost knocked off the Archbishop’s miter.”
    Scirye eyed the tall cap and then looked about for something to throw. “I bet he’s got a snack stuffed inside that.”
    “Your mother will be back at any moment,” Kles suggested, “so it might be wiser to go on wondering rather than find out.”
    With a disappointed grunt, Scirye lowered her free arm and moved on.
    There were so many dazzling objects in the room that she would have walked right by the ancient, faded carpet that hung within a long case on the wall near the archway.
    “Wait,” Kles said.
    The carpet showed the legendary scene in which Oado, the god of the wind, raced Salene, the god of the moon, and Elios, the god of the sun. All three gods wore Indian robes and Persian slippers but had dressed their hair in Greek style. Darting about the borders of the carpet were griffins and leogryphs, creatures with eagle wings and parrot beaks but the bodies of lions.
    Scirye glanced at the placard next to the carpet. “You’re just interested in anything that can fly.”
    “I’ve only heard about something like this.