by Vale Aida
“Why not?” asked Shandei. “What did you do? Why are they chasing you?”
“Because we are playing a game,” said the diviner. He smiled. “But you can’t play with us. Run home, sunflower. You don’t want to be caught with me.”
“If you come up here you won’t get caught.”
He did not move. She made a small sound of irritation and slid down the tree, landing light-footed across the picket fence from him. “What’s wrong with you? Are you hurt?”
“No,” said the man. The Efren contingent was splitting up, flowing down the street and into the spaces between the houses. “I have only had the worst summer of my life, and now I am about to have the worst autumn… but that is not important. You have less than a minute to get back on that roof and lie very still. They won’t see you.”
“But why—”
“Anything,” he said, “for my sweet, lying lover.”
He grabbed her elbow in a practised grip and flung her back. She stumbled into the tree and lost her breath. In the next moment he had bounded away from the fence and into the middle of the street, shouting. “Mi indror! Here I am!”
He had spoken in Saraian. The child had been right, after all.
Terror lent her speed. She scrambled back up the tree and tumbled onto the roof, breathless, just as the Efrens came pounding down the street towards the man. He drew a silver blade from one of his sleeves and flung it at the foremost of his pursuers. The guard went down, neat as a domino. Then the others were on him.
She rolled and hit the ground on the far side of the house. Even before she started to run, she heard him call, laughing. “These knives come with love from Savonn Silvertongue.”
END OF BOOK ONE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vale Aida could probably get a real job and be a real adult, but she doesn’t know. She hasn’t tried. This making-things-up-and-writing-them-down business just takes up too much time. She currently lives in Singapore, and also on the Internet, where she can be found at valeaida.tumblr.com.
Stay tuned for Swansong, the second and final installment of the Magpie Ballads.