Last First Snow Read Online Free PDF Page B

drum beat in Elayne’s chest, and she looked up: Wardens circled on Couatl-back overhead. A fight would draw them down.
    And that fight wasn’t far off. The corners of Kemal’s mouth declined, and her grip tightened on the cleaver. “Shut your face. Bill and I pass the hat, and every godsdamned thaum goes for food and fuel. It’s hard work to feed a camp and you’re wasting our time. Nobody’s taken sick from our food before, and nobody has now.”
    â€œYou call me a liar?”
    â€œWe cooked yesterday for a thousand people. If our food hurt your kids, why’s no one else sick?”
    â€œI’m going in that tent. I’ll show the world your rotten meat.” Nods from the crowd. Shouts of support. Not many, but enough to cause trouble.
    â€œThere’s nothing in that tent but a lot of work for us to do. It’s a kitchen, for the gods’ sake. If your kids really are sick, what they have might be catching. I won’t let you dirty up our space.”
    â€œDirty?”
    Temoc stepped into the clearing and addressed the cooks: “Kapania,” to the woman, and “Bill” to her helper. His voice carried, and people looked to him. “This man’s worried about his children. It’s a reasonable request. What’s your name, sir?”
    â€œSim.”
    â€œSurely it won’t be trouble to let Sim into the tent.”
    â€œTemoc.” Kemal’s jaw jutted forward, and she bared her lower teeth. “The whole camp eats our food. I can’t trust anyone in here I don’t know. We caught this man trying to sneak in.”
    Sim flushed. “Why post guards if you have nothing to hide?”
    Grumbles of assent from the crowd. Temoc glanced back, and the grumblers fell silent. “What if I look myself, Sim? I give you my word I will tell you if I see anything unsavory.”
    â€œThese are my kids. I trust no eyes but my own.”
    Kemal rolled hers. “Waste of time, Temoc. Sim, I’m sorry your kids are sick, but it’s no fault of ours. We have work to do.”
    She must have thought the matter settled—she turned her back on Sim and lifted the tent flap.
    Sim rushed her. Bill tried to block his path, but he wasn’t a fighter. The angry man threw him to the ground and tried to shove past Kemal. Kemal shoved him back, turned with cleaver raised—not out of anger, Elayne thought, she just happened to have it in her hand, one of those thousand unhappy coincidences of which tragedies are made. Sim seized her wrist, twisted—the cleaver swept down toward their legs—Elayne woke a glyph in her arm, in case—
    But suddenly Temoc stood between them.
    Sim lay on the ground, staring up wide-eyed. Bill had caught Ms. Kemal before she fell. Temoc held the cleaver.
    The crowd pressed close and angry. “Kapania,” Temoc said. “People are upset. Let Sim look.”
    â€œNo.”
    The new voice clamped like a fist around the murmurs of the crowd, and crushed them to silence. Elayne turned, Chel turned, the whole crowd turned, even Sim lying prone. When he saw the new arrival, he blanched.
    A man of steel emerged from the crowd.
    Golem, Elayne thought at first, but no, the movements were too fluid, the voice too wet—the figure was human, armored from helmet to boots in scrap metal plate, all sharp lines and jagged edges and dark leather. A lead pipe hung in a sheath by the figure’s side, and a red enamel circle glinted on his left arm.
    â€œLong time, Sim.”
    There was no trace of Craftwork about the armored man, but the crowd hushed all the same.
    Save for Chel, who whispered to Elayne: “The Major.”
    As if Chel’s voice broke some binding spell, Sim spasmed to his feet, shocked upright by terror. He hadn’t quite gained his balance before he tried to run.
    The Major’s hand flicked out, and Sim crumpled. Craftwork, Elayne thought before she saw the blood