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Gates of Thread and Stone

Gates of Thread and Stone - 1

Lori M. Lee

To Kay and May, the best friends and sisters a girl could have

MAP

CHAPTER 1

DEATH LIVED IN a glass tower at the center of the White Court. I could see the tower from anywhere in the city. It cut the skyline like a blade. Death—she probably had a real name—was Kahl Ninu’s right hand and his personal executioner. Or, at least, that’s what the rumors said. I didn’t really care if they were true so long as it wasn’t my head on the chopping block.

The fact that the Kahl’s executioner lived in the most impressive building in the city wasn’t the only reason the White Court unsettled me. I never went any farther than the barracks along the inner wall, but I could see the Court’s elaborate Grays dashing through the cobblestone streets, some with monstrous forms, their hulking bodies big enough to carry three riders at once.

The strap of my messenger bag dug into my shoulder, and I hoisted it up as I turned right, toward the gate. Twenty-foot walls separated the White Court from the rest of the city. Only people with the right permissions could enter or leave.

“See you tomorrow, Kai. ” The Watchman on duty waved me out. As a mail carrier, I had access during work hours.

Once through the gate, the tension left my body. The North District—fondly nicknamed the Alley by some and not so fondly called Purgatory by others—was nothing like the White Court. The buildings here were plain stone and brick, ugly and brown and comforting in their uniformity.

I stepped off the curb into the gutter to avoid a glittering patch of broken glass on the sidewalk. A shattered window sat in the crumbling wall of the building right above the mess, jagged shards still clinging to the frame.

As I turned the corner, I glanced at a poster stuck to a dented lamppost. It was one of only a half-dozen posters in this particular neighborhood—no point advertising to people with no credits.

Today, the poster displayed a half-naked man and woman enticing people to visit them down at the docks. I snorted. Last week, it had featured some crap about the wondrous city of Ninurta. Really smart companion advertising there. Who were they trying to kid?

But, hey, as long as Kahl Ninu left me and my brother alone, he could do whatever the drek he wanted.

A shoulder smacked mine on the sidewalk. I didn’t bother checking my pockets. They were already empty. But sometimes I left little notes in them I thought might amuse a pickpocket: “Try me again tomorrow. I forgot my diamonds at home” or “Might have better luck with that guy,” alongside a scribbled arrow.

Well, they amused me anyway.

The sidewalk grew narrower here. Some boys from school loitered around the next corner, their loud voices carrying through the ruptured street. One of them finished off an apple and then lobbed the core at a passing Gray—the gleaming form of a stag with curved horns. Bound for the White Court. The Court Grays were easy to discern from the Alley Grays, which were dirty and rusted.