The Red Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

concentric circles. A vast set of organ pipes took up the stage at the opposite end of the Citadel, Maesters tending to the holy mechanisms all throughout.
    Zubren inched his way down the aisle.
    “My son, what brings you here?” asked a Maester from the seat beside him. A gleaming gold suit clung tightly to his every bit.
    Zubren let his angst get the better of him. “The rain and questions, what else?”
    “The rain brought you, but you also bring the rain. My son, there is no need for sarcasm. Understand?”
    Zubren shifted his jaw and grunted. The Maesters still clung to that poetic way of speaking. He sat.
    “What questions do you have?” the Maester asked gently. Though he looked to only be in his forties, he spoke slowly with a certain wisdom that made him seem much older. His grandmother told him that there was no physical sign given to denote Elite Maesters from the rest. There was just a way you knew. Something about them. Could this aura of knowledge be it?
    “First, everything we speak of is confidential, right?”
    “So long as it does not mean harm to anyone.”
    Zubren reached into his pocket and pulled out the insect mold from his fireplace mantle.
    “My wife found this in a dig site. I saw this same insect at Sector 20 yesterday, only larger. And it was a Crawler. One had corroded a cast of itself against a wall.” He shook the imprint. “Meaning this is not a terrestrial insect mold. It's a Crawler strain. The same one. I’ll ask you point blank, do you know why this might be?”
    The Maester gave a low, croaking noise from his throat. “You’re of the Fleet Services?”
    “Yes.”
    “You must ask about such matters elsewhere. My job is to bring people peace, not war.”
    “This isn’t about war. I’m trying to figure things out. And that might bring peace.”
    The Maester’s expression turned a shade of somber. “My son, let us not debate about whether or not war brings eventual peace. I give truths and guidance. But I cannot give truths that are unearned.”
    Zubren stiffened at those words. The way he said it. With the kind of guilt-inducing tone used when speaking to criminals. Zubren felt like he’d swallowed a brick.
    Clenching back his rage, he pocketed the imprint and rose to leave.
    * * *
    There were no windows in the Sky Barge Tavern. The better not to see the Haze as the sun set. Zubren had frequented this bar during Basic. Just taking a stool soothed his nerves. But he’d thrown in several beers to be sure.
    On the TV, a geologist was discussing a series of major earthquakes near the Southwestern fault line. Rumors indicated a new Crawler nest had caused the recent surge, as they had in the past. News blips running across the bottom of the screen stated that the Oras Union Congress had just met regarding fears of water reserves running out faster than predicted. Zubren recoiled at the possibility.
    Three young field operators pulled up stools next to Zubren. They each had a variation of curly hair. As they called for Crawler cocktails, he tapped one on the shoulder.
    “Hey, is it still raining out there?”
    “Not anymore.”
    Zubren leaned his neck from side to side, alleviating the aches from sitting slumped over for the past few hours, finished his beer, and turned away from the counter.
    “Hey buddy,” the bartender, a former field operator in his mid-thirties, called.
    “Yeah?” Zubren said.
    The bartender set a full glass of beer in front of him. “Compliments of that gentleman over there,” he said, cocking his head to a lone uniformed man down the stretch. Recognizing him at once, Zubren glowered. This was wholly unexpected.
    He grabbed the beer and marched over to the man. Even sitting, his unimpressive size was clear. He was the last person one would expect to start trouble in a bar. Several years had passed since they’d last seen each other, but the combination of his ever-smirking face, well-groomed goatee, and bald head were hard to forget.
    “Is this