Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

Simon stepped down from the snowcrawler into the machine-crowded gloom of Danta’s workshop. Rain hammered on the roof overhead and damp night air gusted through the open double doors. He stretched and breathed deeply. After the sweaty, fetid air of the snowcrawler, even the manifold smells of Athanor were fresh and wonderful.

He was home. Stiff and sore and itching with healing burns, but alive, and soon he’d be with his family.

Riga climbed down from the snowcrawler, carrying her own pack and Holomy’s. She’d said very little the whole week of the journey back from Sark. It would have been easy for her to knife him or smother him in his sleep, but she had not. Of course, his murder would hardly go unnoticed by Vikki and Jonas; he could only assume that was why he was alive.

Instead she had done her best to behave as if Simon did not exist, and he’d ignored her in return. In the confined space of the snowcrawler, the tension had made an uncomfortable journey almost unbearable.

Jonas cracked his joints. ‘Light, it’s good to be out of that damn thing.’

Vikki swatted him playfully. ‘Don’t badmouth my baby.’

‘You swear at it all the time.’

‘I’m allowed.’

Holomy’s pack swung in Riga’s hand, and inside it was the scriver’s last work: the record of the inscription from the Sark tomb, the codex bound in red leather.

Simon moved to stand between Riga and the doors.

She eyed him. ‘What?’

‘We need to discuss what we’re going to do.’ He pointed to the pack in her hand. ‘With that.’

‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ she said. ‘Lord Oryche paid for it. He owns the book.’

‘We all saw what happened to Sark. The codex is too dangerous to be in private hands, anyone’s hands. We should take it to the Arcanum. They know how to handle these things.’

‘I doubt Lord Oryche would agree,’ Jonas said. ‘Riga’s right. He’s the boss. He’s my boss. We can’t break our agreement with him.’

‘Holomy died,’ Simon said. ‘We all risked our lives. We all have a right to decide what happens to the codex.’

Jonas frowned. ‘But, Simon—’

‘Imagine what happened in Sark, happening here. Not an isolated town of a few hundred inhabitants, but a city of millions, sitting, let’s not forget, on a sleeping volcano full of flammable gas.’

Riga shifted Holomy’s pack to her left hand. ‘I was told to make your death subtle, but you know—’ She drew her sword. ‘I really don’t care.’

Jonas clutched her arm. ‘Riga, hold on.’

She punched him in the stomach. Jonas folded.

Simon backed away from her, toward the doorway. ‘So Eranon did order you to kill me?’ A steel bar lay on a workbench. He snatched it up. The steel was heavy and cold in his sweating palm. Good solid steel but not as long as her sword, and his missing fingers made for a poor grip. He retreated as she advanced, never taking his eyes off her blade.

‘Lord Oryche will be pleased,’ she said.

The sword jabbed at his chest. He flinched back, raising the length of steel to block the blow, but it was a feint. The sword tip traced fire across his ribs.

‘Now.’ She grinned savagely. ‘Now, you die.’

A wet wind breathed from the open doorway, where rain pounded on an empty street. There was no hiding place out there, no help, and no hope of outrunning her. Holding the bar between himself and Riga’s sword, Simon backed toward Danta’s machines.

Riga followed. The sword point drew small circles in the air. ‘Nowhere to go, Adept.’

She swung the sword. He span away, lashing out hard with the bar, hitting only air. The sword clashed with a lathe. Sparks flew, and Riga cursed.

He ducked behind a drill. The nearness of the machines hampered her; there was no room to swing. She stalked after him: cat and mouse, move and counter-move — but she was quicker, and fitter, and more agile than he.

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Panting now, he dodged behind a machine. His bad leg cramped.

She kicked his knee. In agony, he stumbled. Hard metal knuckled his back; he clutched at it for support, his leg buckling under his weight.

Cold steel touched the hollow of his throat. Riga glared at him along the length of the sword. She licked her lips.

Simon breathed and the sword tip tickled his skin. He could see in Riga’s eyes that she was only savouring the moment before she struck. Would it hurt, when the sharp steel cut off his last breath?

To his left, a shadow shifted. Metal grated on metal. White steam blasted from the darkness directly into Riga’s face.

She shrieked. Shielding her face with her arms, she retreated from the cloud.

Danta emerged from between two machines, holding one end of a hose that trailed off into the darkness. Steam belched from the end in her hands. ‘Get out,’ she said. ‘Or I will kill you.’

Riga grimaced. Her face was red where the steam had caught her. ‘Lord Oryche will hear about this. Oryche never forgives and never forgets. Consider where your interest lies.’

‘Not with murder in my workshop,’ Dana said coolly. ‘Out. Now.’

Riga sheathed her sword. She glared at Simon. ‘We aren’t done, you and I.’ She strode toward the doors, Holomy’s pack swinging in her hand.

Danta twisted a valve on the end of the hose; the steam hissed to a stop. ‘Are you hurt?’

Simon touched his side. Blood soaked through his shirt, warm and wet. The cut across his ribs stung fiercely, but was only skin deep. He straightened his leg, flexed it slowly, and judged no permanent damage had been done. The pain would pass. ‘I’ll live.’

She offered her hand. He leaned on her, and together they made their way over to where Jonas sat on the floor. Vikki crouched with her arms round him.

‘I didn’t expect you back this soon,’ Danta said, matter of factly. ‘How’s the snowcrawler?’

Vikki released Jonas and stood to hug her mother. ‘The snowcrawler performed perfectly, apart from a minor problem with ice in the gas-line. Just don’t ask me to ever drive the damn thing again.’

‘She really meant to kill you.’ Jonas sounded shocked. ‘I’m sorry, Simon. I should have believed you, before… Though in my defence, she is my cousin, and she wasn’t always insane. Well, not this insane. Are you hurt?’

Simon touched his blood-stained shirt. It looked more dramatic than it was. ‘Not badly. And I should thank you, Danta. You saved my life.’

‘Lucky for you I was working late.’

‘Light and damnation.’ Jonas struggled to his feet. ‘So now Eranon has the codex anyhow. Where does that leave us? Do you think he’ll pay us?’

‘You may not have noticed,’ Simon said. ‘But Eranon wants me dead. Getting paid is the least of my worries.’ Ice ran down his spine. ‘And he knows where I live. Light, what am I going to do? It’s not safe to stay there.’

‘Right.’ Jonas scratched his growing beard. ‘I have relatives in Phylaxes.’

Simon shook his head.

Jonas grimaced. ‘Yeah, that wouldn’t work. Numisma?’

‘Eranon knows I’ve dealt with them, he may expect me to go there.’

‘Well, if you have money, there’s always options.’ Jonas shrugged. ‘I’d help you out, but I’m short on cash myself.’

Simon rubbed his forehead. He did have money, thanks to Eranon, but not a great deal. Where could he go that Eranon wouldn’t find him? Him and his family?

‘Mother,’ Vikki said. ‘There’s the storeroom.’

Danta eyed her. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘A few people could sleep there, no bother to us,’ Vikki said.

‘You may be in trouble with Eranon already,’ Simon said. ‘I don’t want to cause you any difficulty, Danta.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Vikki said. ‘It’s perfectly safe. No one would even know you were there.’

Danta sighed and turned to Simon. ‘I rent storage space in the undercity. It’s no palace, but you can stay there for a while if you want.’

Simon gingerly rested his weight on his bad leg. ‘That would be wonderful.’

Past midnight and with pounding rain turning the gutters to rivers, Simon and Vikki had the city to themselves.

As he walked, he calculated time and distance. Riga had left a few minutes before them. She wouldn’t have reached Eranon yet. Or would she? She was injured though — her face horribly scalded by the steam. And it was night. Eranon might be asleep. It would take some time to rouse him, or she might leave it until the morning.

And then, he couldn’t know what Eranon would do. He had the codex, that might distract him. Or he might immediately send Riga — or someone else — to Simon’s home, to finish what she’d failed to do.

Darn Street was deserted. The flames of the streets lamps wavered; Grumman’s workshop was shuttered, dark and silent. No assassins lurked in the shadows. But he’d been gone for almost two weeks and Eranon could have sent someone here at any time.

He pounded on the workshop doors. His fist made a dull thump, and the door bounced on its hinges. Nothing stirred inside. Cold rainwater trickled down his neck to the small of his back. The cut in his side stung, his knee ached, and all was quiet, save for the drumming of the rain. The citizens of Athanor slept soundly, good and bad alike.

He banged on the door again, harder this time. And again, hard enough to hurt his hand.

‘Who’s there?’ Nana’s voice quavered.

‘Simon,’ he said. ‘Let me in.’

‘Who?’

‘Simon,’ he shouted.

The door swung open. Nana — swathed in her long pink flannel nightdress — gaped at him. ‘Simon! It is you. Good Lord above.’ She flung her arms around him, wet as he was, and hugged him fiercely.

He’d just about got through the door before Lorie too was hugging him. With some difficulty, he separated himself and ushered Vikki in from the rain.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

Nana looked from him to Vikki. ‘Yes, everything’s fine. But who’s this? And how are you back so soon? We didn’t look to see you for days yet.’

‘This is Danta’s daughter, Vikki. But we don’t have time. Pack your things. We have to leave, immediately.’

‘What?’ Nana rubbed her eyes.

‘I don’t have time to explain right now. We’re all in danger. Vikki will take us to a safe place, but you must pack whatever you need. Necessities only.’

He started up the stairs.

‘But we can’t just leave,’ Nana said. ‘We’ve paid rent for the month.’

‘We’ll come back when it’s safe. For now, just pack bedding, clothes, food.’ Simon pushed open the door to their rooms. The battered table and chairs would have to be left. Scant as their belongings were, it hurt to lose anything, but he wouldn’t risk his family’s safety, not for pans and plates and furniture. ‘Where’s Sam?’

The noise they’d made should have roused the boy, even if he’d been asleep.

‘Damn the boy,’ Nana said. ‘He’s off again.’