The Broken Kingdoms Read Online Free PDF Page B

they did a lazy job of it, which left the people of the city to find their own ways of resolving problems—exactly as most of us preferred it. However, something told me this man was no lowly Order-Keeper.
    He hadn’t asked a question, so I didn’t speak, which he seemed to take as an answer in itself. I felt my front table shift alarmingly; he was sitting on it. The tables weren’t the sturdiest things in the world, since they had to be light enough for me to carry home if necessary. My stomach clenched.
    “You look nervous,” he said.
    “I’m not,” I lied. I’d heard Order-Keepers used such techniques to throw their targets off-balance. This one worked. “But it might help if I knew your name.”
    “Rimarn,” he said. A common name among lower-class Amn. “Previt Rimarn Dih. And you are?”
    A previt. They were full-fledged priests, high-ranking ones, and they didn’t leave the White Halls often, being more involved in business and politics. The Order must’ve decided that the death of a godling was of great importance.
    “Oree Shoth,” I said. My voice cracked on my family name; I had to repeat it. I thought that he smiled.
    “We’re investigating the death of the Lady Role and were hoping you and your friends could assist. Especially given that we’ve been kind enough to overlook your presence here at the Promenade.” He picked up something else. I couldn’t tell what.
    “Happy to help,” I said, trying to ignore the veiled threat. The Order of Itempas controlled permits and licenses in the city, among many other things, and they charged dearly for them. Yel’s stand had a permit to sell on the Promenade; none of us artists could afford one. “It’s so sad. I didn’t think gods could die.”
    “Godlings can, yes,” he said. His voice had grown noticeably colder, and I chided myself for forgetting how prickly devout Itempans could be about gods other than their own. I had been too long away from Nimaro, damn it—
    “Their parents, the Three, can kill them,” Rimarn continued. “And their siblings can kill them, if they’re strong enough.”
    “Well, I haven’t seen any godlings with bloody hands, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not that I see much of anything.” I smiled. It was weak.
    “Mmm. You found the body.”
    “Yes. There was no one around, though, that I could tell. Then Madding—Lord Madding, another godling who lives in town—came and took the body. He said he was going to show it to their parents. To the Three.”
    “I see.” The sound of something being put back on my table. Not the miniature Tree, though. “Your eyes are very interesting.”
    I don’t know why this made me more uneasy. “So people tell me.”
    “Are those… cataracts?” He leaned close to peer at me. I smelled mint tea on his breath. “I’ve never seen cataracts like those.”
    I’ve been told my eyes are unpleasant to look at. The “cataracts” that Rimarn had noticed were actually many narrow, delicate fingers of grayish tissue, layered tight over one another like the petals of a daisy yet to bloom. I have no pupils, no irises in the ordinary sense. From a distance, it looks as though I have matte, steely cataracts, but up close the deformity is clear.
    “The bonebenders call them malformed corneas, actually. With some other complications that I can’t pronounce.” I tried to smile again and failed miserably.
    “I see. Is this… malformation… common among Maroneh?”
    There was a crash from two tables over. Ru’s table. I heard her cry out in protest. Vuroy and Ohn started to join in. “Shut up,” snapped the priest who was questioning her, and they all fell silent. Someone from the onlooking crowd—probably a Darkwalker—shouted for the priests to leave us alone, but no one else took up his cry, and he was not brave or stupid enough to repeat it.
    I have never been very patient, and fear shortened my temper even more. “What is it you want, Previt Rimarn?”
    “An