Stitching Snow Read Online Free PDF Page A

helped without worrying about what was in it for her.
    I’m not Mother.
    A chill seeped through my spine, telling me how true the thought was. But it didn’t matter. All I wanted was to keep safe and keep to myself.
    Then again . . . I could do this one thing my mother would’ve approved of. And as unhinged as Dane’s idea sounded, maybe it could work. Maybe there really was a treasure, and he could fi nd it, and it would be enough wealth for the Garamites to risk uniting against Windsong. And maybe with the Garamites’ tech turned against the crown, Windsong would be defeated. The war would fi nally end, and the crown’s lies would die with it.
    No more killing on either side.
    That would be a good thing, even if it rested on some very shaky threads of “maybe.” I sighed and prioritized the list of needed repairs.
    “Give me and Ticktock an hour or so to fi nish stitching the electrical so you won’t freeze through the night in here. Then we’ll go to the Station, see if Petey can rig a spur.”
    “What’s a spur?”
    26

    R.C. ll E WI S
    “You know, spur of the moment.”
    “But a spur-of-the-moment what ?” I grunted and shouldered past him on my way to the forward compartment. “There are only two ways to earn extra shares in the settlements, and I already told you—I’m no one’s good time.”
    27

    3
    BY THE TIME DANE AND I got to the Station, the midafter-noon crowd had packed in. Most of the men were drinking, a few over card games. Others picked up deliveries from MineNet . . .
    then picked up a tankard and joined everyone else. If the staggering drunks weren’t enough to knock Dane over, the stench was ready to do the job.
    “What are we doing here?” he shouted over the din.
    “I told you, getting enough shares to get you back in the air. Now shut it.” I shoved my way through the crowd, drawing plenty of glares that turned wary when they saw a strange boy with me. Clearly word had spread about the crash and the settlement’s visitor.
    Should’ve made him stay with his shuttle.
    “Essie, there yeh are.”
    I turned at the voice, the gravel as recognizable as the crooked nose. “Aye, here I am, Hawkins.” R.C. ll E WI S
    “I hear yeh’re not willin’ to fi x up the botched transmission on the old pulverizer.”
    “Unwilling and unable. My hands are full with things the mech-bots can’t handle.” He opened his mouth, probably to repeat what Petey had said about the mech-bots only doing half a job, so I cut him off. “I’ll get one of the drones on it when I have the time. Best I can do.”
    Hawkins protested, something about my having a fi ner touch than the drones, but I stopped listening and continued to push my way to the bar. The men didn’t understand. There was no puzzle to solve when it came to mining equipment, just replacing worn-out parts and kicking it until it worked. No real challenge like Dane’s shuttle offered.
    “Petey!”
    The old miner spotted me and waved for us to follow him into the storeroom, where the noise was more muted. “Our new friend’s up and about, I see.”
    “In better shape than his shuttle, anyway,” I replied.
    “Still no alerts from Immigration Control,” Petey said, shifting his gaze to Dane. “Listen, boy, yeh got in undetected, and no one here wants Windsong’s watchdogs sniffi n’ around. But if yeh’re here to make trouble—”
    “I’m not,” Dane said. “I just want to get where I’m going.”
    “And where might that be?”
    A good question. Where did he think he’d fi nd this treasure of his?
    “The Umbergild Ascetics.”
    I stiflled a laugh at the answer, and Petey did the same, letting a snort slip through. If Dane thought he could get information from the Ascetics, he didn’t know nearly enough about them.
    29

    S T I T C H I N G S N O W
    “They like to grow them delusional on Garam, and who are we to argue?” I said. “Repairs’ll be steep, though. Think you can rig me a spur?”
    Petey’s mouth always