Those Below: The Empty Throne Book 2 Read Online Free Page A

white stone bridge, above a canal of water that had begun its journey as a droplet from the Source. Back on solid ground she turned upslope, following along with the portion of the Lord’s directions she had memorised. The Aubade had not told her how he had learned the location of the meeting – as the Prime he had access to whatever rudimentary intelligence service the Roost could claim – but however he had acquired it, Calla found it authenticated almost as soon as she had passed out of range of the docks. The Five-Fingered wore rough canvas trousers and colourless wool-spun shirts, and they wore them as if they were badge or armour, caging a potent and terrible force, one that might erupt into brutality at any moment. They stood at even intervals, watching the passer-by with a more than casual interest. About the same time she realised that her movement was no longer entirely self-directed, that without realising she had gotten caught in a current of pedestrians. They were feeding themselves into a vast warehouse a short way upslope, one of the massive standing structures built for holding stock, though this evening it seemed to have been repurposed. The current slowed and then stopped, the guards at the front inspecting each entrant.
    With forward motion stilled it became impossible not to notice the innumerable contrasts that marked her out as alien. Not only her costume, which despite its rough make was finer than anything any of the other women in line were wearing, but her demeanour itself. The crowd stood in a fever of anticipation, nervous and enthusiastic, speaking with expectant happiness to the newly discovered friends in front and behind. Meanwhile Calla’s fear had again grown so loud in her mind that she felt certain it must draw attention, that at any moment the packed mass would turn as one and stare at her, first revealing and then punishing her deception.
    Before she could make up her mind to leave, Calla found herself at the front, two men guarding the entrance and looking at her with serious attention.
    ‘Greetings, sister,’ said the smaller of the two. ‘You have come for the meeting?’
    She nodded and looked aside awkwardly.
    ‘Do you know the word?’
    ‘I did not know I needed one,’ she said quietly, trying to appear meek and unsure of herself, a girl far from home, trying and not finding the guise particularly difficult.
    The guards looked at each other, wary though not unfriendly. ‘May we see your brand, sister?’ said the larger of the two, still smiling but forceful, and coming towards her as he spoke, reaching his hand out to take hers.
    She pulled it back quickly, turned her head behind her in the same moment, saw the line of people who were now staring at her with wary concern, knew that there could be no escape.
    ‘What seems to be the problem?’ a voice asked.
    She would have known the speaker was important even if the two guards hadn’t snapped to attention, shoulders rising and levelling off, eyes straight ahead. It was the same tone of command that she might have given to a scullery maid or a new assistant at the bestiaries, assertive and self-certain. ‘She is ignorant of the password, and has declined to show her brand.’
    ‘This is your first time here, sister?’ the boy asked. Not boy, man, younger than Calla and shorter but with wide shoulders and round biceps. His eyes were dark and blunt as an extinguished torch, and they seemed somehow familiar, though she could not recall the circumstances of their last meeting.
    ‘I was told that all humans are welcome at the meeting of the Five-Fingered,’ Calla said. ‘That there is a man here who would speak something I needed to hear.’
    ‘The second is the truest thing in the world,’ he said, ‘though the first is sadly outdated. There are some so clouded as to imagine themselves our enemies, and thus precautions must be taken. May I see your brand, sister?’
    Calla knew well the tone of voice, one she had