Brown River Queen Read Online Free PDF

said that even the Regent dare not cross Portend heading east. Because that’s Cauldron Town, where Rannit’s sorcerous sorts dwell, and they have little love for the mere mortals who scurry about their feet.  
    But cross Portend Street we did, bound for the Corpsemaster’s dark house. We didn’t get half a block from the street lamps of Portend before the air took on an impossible Yule chill and the strains of faraway music sounded above the rattle and clop of our carriage.
    It was dark on the nameless street. Dark and cold. Trees rose up, hulking masses of shadow that seemed to shuffle in place, their boughs swaying with a wind that didn’t reach the cab. If there were homes behind the line of trees, they shone no light at their windows, no lamps at their doors.
    I can only spare you from the very worst, said Stitches, her face bent low, her hands moving inside her sleeves. Beware the sights, the sounds. Many bring madness. The Corpsemaster’s absence means some may ignore our right to safe passage as her guests.
    Evis cussed softly.
    “Never thought I’d actually miss the old spook.” I discovered a silver flask of good whiskey in my coat’s breast pocket and proffered it forth. “Evis? Miss?”
    “Might as well,” said Evis.  
    Another time.
    Lights began to play in the trees, offering glimpses of movement. I saw silvery wings, a flash of bare female leg, and heard laughter on the wind.
    “Come and play,” said the voices. “Come out, come out, join us for the night!”
    Evis took a long draw at my flask. I did the same. Pale hands reached down from the black boughs, curling their fingers in invitation.
    “We know you, Markhat, the finder,” said a voice.
    “We have watched you walk,” said another.
    Silence, lest I burn thee with fire.
    The leaves rustled, and we were alone.
    Stitches waggled a finger at me in warning. Her fingernail was black, and I hoped it was painted that way.
    “Should have brought cards,” opined Evis.  
    “Should have brought an army.”
    “We did. Let her work. I’m going to close my eyes and take a nap. You might try the same.”
    The twin glints in his white halfdead eyes vanished when he closed them.
    I pulled my hat down and stared at my shoes and tried with no success to ignore the voices that called out my name.
     
     
    I had to shake my halfdead friend awake. One doesn’t wake a halfdead without some risk, but Evis just gifted me with a toothy yawn followed by a lopsided grin.
    We have arrived .  
    “Resistance?”
    Nothing of any significance.
    “Any sign of our host?”
    None whatsoever. The dwelling appears to be unoccupied, although a number of potent spells are still present and functional.  
    I rubbed my hands together to warm them. The air bore a deep winter chill, though summer still held sway on the other side of Portend Street. “Are we being watched?” My words were accompanied by puffs of steam.  
    Naturally. I suspect there are many hereabouts who are also curious about the Corpsemaster’s status. I believe that may be why we were allowed to arrive without facing serious opposition.
    “Your middle name isn’t Sunshine, is it?”
    “Markhat. Not the time or the place. So what’s the plan, Stitches? Walk up and knock?”
    She shrugged beneath her robes.
    In essence, yes. I will go first. If you have weapons, keep them at the ready.
    I had a knife in my boot and brass knuckles in my pocket. Evis had insisted we leave the guns behind. I take it they don’t care much for guns in the magic part of town. “And how will that help?”
    She looked right at me, and I caught the ghost of a tortured grin on her tight-sewn lips.
    You’ll feel better about dying if you don’t die empty-handed.
    “Hilarious. I’m going to write that down. And people say sorcerers lack a sense of humor.”
    Evis tired of making frantic shushing motions and opened his door with a sigh. Stitches followed him out, and I made it a threesome. Our driver, who looked