The Darkness Comes (The Second Book of the Small Gods Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bieta and Stirk hid, the bleeding man draped in his arms. The injured lad chose that precise moment to groan.
    They froze.
    The girl stared right at them, not seeing them in the dark, and took a half step their direction, but got no farther. The one-armed man rested his hand on her back, directing her away down the avenue. Bieta watched until they disappeared around the corner.
    “Let’s go,” she whispered, dragging Stirk by his shirt sleeve once more.
    At any second, the tavern crowd might come rushing through the doors. She didn’t know what’d happened, but she could make a good guess. With men lying dead on the floor, someone within might come out seeking vengeance, and they didn’t want to get caught up in it. And if no one had retribution on their minds, then one of them might decide to find a See-Gee and report the incident. Not that the city guard would care nor do anything about it, but they’d for sure take an interest in Bieta and Stirk and the man bleeding on Stirk’s shirt.
    She yanked on her boy’s arm, urging him to put aside his theatrics and increase his pace. Two more blocks remained to the bridge, and two more beyond to the stinking room behind the tanner’s where they made their home. If they didn’t dally, they should be able to get well-hid long before any lazy-assed See-Gee showed his face.
    They hurried through the next intersection and Bieta took a peek to her right. The two they’d seen leaving the tavern stood in the middle of the street far enough away to be no more than black shapes in the distance. With them heading that direction, she assumed they must be going to gather the city guard themselves. She pulled harder on Stirk’s sleeve.
    “Hurry up, dummy.”
    “Shut it, Ma, or you’ll be carrying your friend.”
    One Way Bridge loomed ahead, so named for the fact its breadth only allowed one wagon to cross at a time. For this reason, most carts and wagons found their way to another bridge rather than get caught in a jam. The old One Way Bridge saw mostly pedestrian traffic, and this easier use had left it in better condition than the other paths over the river, save those reserved for nobles. Flagstones worn smooth by boot heels paved the bridge, but their edges remained unchipped by horseshoes and steel rimmed wheels. Since she was a young girl, Bieta had liked coming to the bridge and leaning over the edge to watch the swirling water flow by.
    Not tonight.
    She ran her hand along the crown as they crossed, fingers grating on the rough bricks, their corners worn smooth by innumerable hands over the course of a thousand of turn of the seasons. They reached the far side without notice, but figures milled about on the street ahead. Bieta leaned close and whispered in Stirk’s ear.
    “We’ll have to go the back way.”
    “No,” he groaned. “Ma, I—”
    “Shh.”
    She tugged hard on his ear and he bent toward her to release the pressure. The lad moaned again, a sad, pained sound that brought Bieta back to the task at hand. This wasn’t just about sneaking back to their humble abode, but saving the young man’s life, too.
    She held on to Stirk’s ear as she led him down the side street running alongside the river. A block along, they took a right into a narrow lane. The mingled smells of murky river water, the sausage factory, and the tanner’s shop made her stomach grouse and complain.
    Along the alley, they side-stepped broken crates and a man she presumed to be sleeping before finally arriving at the tanner’s. Here, the river’s smell and the sausage aroma faded, overpowered by the stench of the tannery. As much as she despised it, the stink was the only reason they had somewhere to live—no one else wanted to reside where the shopkeep used dung and urine in his work.
    “Get him in,” she said, releasing Stirk’s lobe and ushering him ahead of her before glancing along the alley to ensure the man they stepped over hadn’t awakened.
    Stirk went through into the