Tower & Knife 03 - The Tower Broken Read Free Page B

stood up straight, then brushed his moustache with a finger. ‘What kind of work?’
    The lies came easily now she saw how embarrassed he looked. ‘I was nursemaid to the Lord Khouraf’s babe, but it died, and they left the city in grief.’ The part about Lord Khouraf’s babe dying was true – she had heard the story at court. She stepped forwards, an earnest expression on her face. ‘If I don’t find another position soon, I—’
    ‘Hold on, hold on,’ he grumbled, turning to the kitchen door. ‘I thought you smelled like a lady, is all.’ He left her at the gate and she lifted a wrist to her nose. Jasmine and musk.
Stupid
. Servants could never afford such a scent.
    He remained in the house for some time as she waited in the quiet courtyard. Leggy roses grew against the wall, mostly neglected, but a lemon tree had been planted in a large pot and it gave off a fresh scent when the wind passed over. Beneath it sheltered a bench, and Mesema imagined the house’s women sitting there, taking the morning air.
    The guard returned and two men with him, rougher-looking, and big. ‘This her?’ said one.
    ‘That’s her,’ said the guard without looking her way. His shoulders were hunched, like a beaten dog.
Danger
. She backed away towards the road.
    ‘You asking questions?’ The one to her right towered over her. He looked Cerani, but his eyes were blue.
    ‘I was asking for work. If there is no work then I will leave.’ She held her shoulders straight, refusing to be afraid.
    ‘Who told you there was work for a nursemaid?’
    ‘I heard … people were talking …’ She began to see the problems with her story.
    ‘What people?’
    ‘People at the church.’ She thought that would be enough to quiet them, but instead, they took more interest, stepping closer with new light in their eyes.
    ‘What church?’
    She swallowed, hoping her answer would hit the mark. ‘The church of the One God, the God of Everyone and Everything …’ She recited what Eldra had told her, but the first man shook his head.
    ‘She’s one of those pretties, trained to spy. This is how they do it, Jafar.’
    Jafar took her right hand and turned it, examining the nails. ‘She is no servant, it’s true.’ Then he dug his fingers into her elbow. ‘You’ll come inside and tell us who sent you.’
    ‘I’m just a nursemaid,’ she insisted, digging in her heels. If they took her inside she did not think she would come out. Pelar’s face flashed through her mind. It occurred to her that she might not see him again, and she felt as if she had swallowed all the emptiness in the world.
    ‘You’re—’ The man’s word ended in a wet sound.
    Mesema felt a warm spray like summer rain on her shoulder – but this was the desert, and there was no rain. She turned, and the blood gushing from his neck hit her in the face.
    ‘What—?’ Jafar drew his sword and slashed at someone behind her.
    Mesema had never been in a fight, but she had been in a war; she knew getting out of the way of a sword was more important than understanding why it was there. She dashed behind thelemon tree and now she saw it was Grada standing under the arch of the open gate, holding her twisted Knife while Jafar advanced upon her. He thrust and she ducked, spun and came up inside his guard, putting her Knife to his neck. They stood nose to nose and her dark eyes locked upon his. The cold expression on Grada’s face turned Mesema’s stomach to ice.
    Jafar’s sword clattered against the flagstones when he dropped it.
    ‘Tell me about the child,’ Grada hissed.
    ‘Die, filth,’ he said, ‘or else kill me.’
    Grada was about to ask another question when her gaze flicked Mesema’s way. At that moment Mesema felt the fabric press against the back of her shoulders and the cold of a blade against her neck. She had forgotten the first guard. ‘Let Jafar go,’ he said, ‘and I will not kill your little spy.’ He was not so awkward as she had believed,