The Broken Lands Read Online Free PDF Page A

can do it?”
    â€œHe’s expecting us to have made significant progress before he arrives,” mumbled Bones. “He may understand if we need a bit more time before the taking of the place, but if we can’t at least identify the pillars of the cities first, we’re in trouble.”
    The other man didn’t look like he entirely agreed. “No. If he arrives and we aren’t ready—properly ready, I mean—Jack will never forgive us. Not after last time.”
    â€œI don’t care about being forgiven,” Bones said, his silvery eyes glinting as a ship under sail passed beneath the unfinished bridge. “There are worse things than not being forgiven.”
    "So this is our crossroads, is it?" Bones mused.  
    Walker nodded under his hat. “There are, indeed.” He pulled a gold silk handkerchief from his pocket, tied it across his nose and mouth, and pulled his hat down low over his eyes. Then he backed into the shelter of a doorway. “Get on with it.”
    Bones nodded. He turned to the river and faced westward, toward the city of New York. Then he took a deep breath, and a breeze lifted itself off the water and stirred through the empty street.
    He sucked mouthful after mouthful of air, and the breeze strengthened into a rough wind, carrying to him the dust and dirt, flotsam and jetsam, and random detritus from the city of New York across the river. Bones breathed it all in, eyes closed.
    Walker shrank his lanky frame as far away from the wind as he could. Then the bald man turned eastward, facing into the depths of Brooklyn, and took in three more breaths, hauling the winds to him again. He stood at the center of a whirling vortex of dirt and debris, inhaling and tasting it, while his blue felt coat flapped around his ankles.
    Then he opened his eyes and frowned. The air stilled.
    â€œBrick dust and stone dust, riverside muck . . . coal and offal, paper and steel and sewage . . .” Bones spat on the street. “I cannot taste the veins of this city, or the one across the river. There is too much in the way, too many people, too much industry. We will have to find the pillars some other way.”
    Walker’s mumbled curses were muffled by his handkerchief. He yanked it away from his face and snapped it once to shake off the dust. “I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on what that other way might be.”
    Bones gave him a cold look. “Two days is not enough time to do it well. We would be lucky to find even one of the pillars in that time. We certainly can’t take all ten.” He looked up at the bridge again. “We’ll have to do it by cinefaction, I suppose. If we can manage that, we can claim the city for him before he even arrives. Please tell me you have tinder.”
    Walker reached into his watch pocket and tugged loose the chain. At the end of the fob was a small, cylindrical box of punched tin. “Jack said not to use it if we had any other choice. The coal was small to begin with. He can’t go hacking pieces off all the time.”
    â€œWell, we had other choices until you wasted two weeks on that idiot riverboat. Any other means of taking the place requires more time than we have.”
    â€œWell then, we’d better use it,” Walker retorted, stowing the tinderbox back in his pocket.
    â€œYes, we’d better.” The hard-packed sand that made up Bones’s face shifted and his mouth cracked into a smile like a break in stone. “And I do like a good fire. We’re going to need someone to perform the cinefaction. If we can’t find the pillars, but we locate a conflagrationeer . . .” he mused. “Might be time to try digging up a few of Jack’s old chums.” Then he raised a hand thoughtfully to his chin. “Hang on.”
    Walker shot him a wary look.
    â€œSpeaking of old chums, before we resort to a taking-by-fire, why haven’t we talked