The Waking Engine Read Online Free PDF Page B

on the desk in his father’s study. Yes. He had a green leather blotter with brass studs, and if you wrote on it you had to press very softly with the pen because he didn’t want to score the leather. Cooper knew these things still existed, but they were no longer his.
    “What was wrong with that man?” he asked, walking in the lee of Asher’s arm down the street. How did he know my name? And what was that other thing he called me? Alm Fail? What does that mean?
    “Ignore it.” Asher’s tone was clipped. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. The man was a con artist. He tailed us, or something. Whatever you do, don’t let crazy people on the street make you question your own sanity. In all likelihood that’s how they got that way.”
    “Why does everyone seem to want to die?”
    Asher merely shook his head. His eyes darted around as if looking for an escape. “Watch out for the crazies.” They passed two grimy men playing cards on a rubbish bin. Asher dipped his head in their direction and added, “And watch out for the swindlers. Don’t be a fool with your money.”
    Cooper snorted. “I’m not an idiot—money is money. But what are they playing?”
    “Three Whores. It’s a scam, can’t be won.”
    “OK,” said Cooper as they turned down yet another side street. “Then why would anyone play?”
    “Why does anyone ever gamble?” He gave Cooper a sideways look. “Don’t your people enjoy things that are bad for them?”
    When Cooper didn’t answer, Asher gave him another, more searching look. Cooper couldn’t help but notice the perfect proportions of Asher’s gray face, or the squared lope of his shoulders.
    “What happened to you, Cooper?” Asher asked with an edge of intensity.
    “How the fuck should I know?” Cooper threw up his arms. “Am I not the clueless one here? Wherever here is?”
    All of a sudden, a clamor of wheels sounded from behind them. Asher threw Cooper face-first against the stone wall and held him flat as something big and fast and loud rushed down the cobbled lane at their backs. Startled, Cooper strained his neck to see a massive black-lacquered carriage bearing down the street like an angry bull made of gilt and teakwood— scattering hawkers and hausfraus alike lest they be crushed by its cherry-red wheels. As the carriage rushed by, Cooper saw a woman’s hand with blue- green nails dangle from a red-curtained window. The hand twitched as the vehicle passed, and for an instant a finger pointed directly at Cooper’s heart.
    He stared at the receding, accusatory finger while Asher narrowed his eyes in distaste. A tattooed rickshaw driver stood drenched in sodden filth, shaking his fist and hurling unintelligible curses after the carriage. Across the street, a matronly woman held her hands to her head and despaired at an overturned bushel of bright green apples, gemlike fruit spilled into the mud.
    “Dead gods fucked, fed, and flattered!” Asher cursed with a sneer.
    “What the fuck was that?” Cooper demanded.
    “There goes Lallowë Thyu, second wife of the Marquis Oxnard Terenz-de-Guises, who ‘governs’ this precinct.” His eyes flickered red with hate and he stood motionless, glaring at the bulk of black opulence as it careened around the corner. “Sic transit pure evil.”
    “Uh-huh,” Cooper mumbled, not really in the mood for local politics. “Well, your pure evil just pointed a finger at me as she hurtled past.” The finger had pointed at him, he’d felt it.
    Asher paused and gave Cooper a curious look, half- accusatory, half- hopeful.
    “You didn’t see that?” Cooper asked.
    “Of course I saw it, but you’re imagining your own significance.” Asher scooped up an armful of apples and returned them to the grumbling woman, who handed one back with a nod. “Thyu has no reason to know you exist, and if you’re lucky she never will.”
    “Then what was she pointing at—you?”
    Asher hid his face behind the apple.
    “Of course not. She