The Universal Mirror Read Online Free PDF Page B

he followed the five through the winding maze of streets that led down from the heights of the Thana and into what he’d heard sailors call the “Underbelly.”
    This was a different world than either dock or palace.  The Underbelly was a cramped, crowded area that bled out from the edges of the water and into the city proper though it never touched the heart.  It was said that you knew this part of Cercia first by smell.  It was a saying proved instantly true as the group wound its way through the narrow alleys—the streets smelled of dead flowers and murder.  Asahel found himself gasping a little at the scent as they passed one doorway, overpowering cologne drifting out into the air from the cracked windows.  His eyes lifted to the sign hanging cocked above the door.  Medical Doctor.  He frowned as he saw it but wasn’t surprised.  The poor had no options for their medicine.  The perfume, no doubt, was sprayed to hide the death-smell within.
    Embr carried Quentin past the doorway easily.  His prisoner’s head stirred as they walked past the doctor’s but his breath was still shallow.  Asahel couldn’t tell whether or not Quentin was coherent but he thought that he glimpsed bright eyes opening for a second before closing again.  He ducked into a doorway as Embr passed the next corner and Taggart halted, his face crinkling up as he stared into the crowd.  Asahel was out of place, even here, his clothing rough but still clean.  Unlike Pig and Taggart, his pants were not constructed from crudely-hewn patches.  It was a sure sign that he was an outsider and this was not a place he could afford to be marked.
    His eyes stared up at the door, noticing that it had a crude crest of its own.  It had been hacked above the window with some blunt knife, a shovel resting on a lily.  He frowned, not understanding what it meant.  It was, however, a reminder of where he had to go.
    Turning on his heel, Asahel began to walk as quickly as he could towards the city’s heart.  He kept his head lowered, hoping that he’d avoid any trouble.  As he’d expected, he did.  The Underbelly throbbed in the darkness, with encounters far more desired than any that he could provide.  His feet shuffled against the cobble, stumbling on the uneven paving as he kept moving.  There was no real sense of direction, simply a need to keep pressing on lest his friend find danger at the hands of the men that he’d met at the Thana.  The anger that he’d felt at Quentin was still present, though muted—it had dulled in the wake of a bigger problem.
    Asahel ran out of the Underbelly and towards the heavy stone structures that marked the district in which Quentin lived.  He was out of breath by the time he reached the first of the streets, resting his palm against a tree, huffing as he tried to formulate his thoughts about who to take this problem to.
    The City Guard wasn’t an option.  Their ranks had been corrupt as long as Asahel had been alive.  They were just as likely to save Quentin and ransom him themselves.  They’d call it a fine, Asahel knew, but it was as good as extortion in the end.  Not to mention—he shuddered—the penalty that the Guard would call for if Quentin’s reasons for being in the Thana were discovered.  Quent’s lips were loose at the best of times.  Asahel didn’t believe the possibility of torture would tighten them.
    He straightened up, letting his feet carry him as he thought.  Catharine Gredara was another obvious option.  Quent’ll not forgive you if you ask her, he realized.  The light in his friend’s eyes flared as he spoke of his wife but invariably deadened when the subject of Catharine’s affection came up.
    No, if Catharine truly had no love for Quentin, he wouldn’t wish him worse.  Even if, Asahel was silently cursing him for the mess he’d created.
    His foot stepped on a twig.  The sound of its crack was harsh in the silence.  A passing Guard paused, touching the