The Diamond Isle

RESISTANCE HERE.

‘What is it?’ the Bladesman asked.

‘See for yourself.’ Disgleirio showed him the note.

‘Where did it come from?’

‘I don’t know. It must have been…somebody in the crowd.’ He scanned the street again, puzzled.

Two blocks away, sheltering in the entranceway to a stable, Aphri and Aphrim were locked in a lingering kiss.

‘We can’t loiter here, my love,’ she whispered, gazing deep into his barren eyes.

He nodded. There was something in that simple gesture which could have been interpreted as sadness.

‘Soon,’ she promised.

He shrunk in her embrace, not in stature, but mass. His body joined with hers. She drank him.

Aphri stretched, and belched.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, drawing her sword.

‘What the hell do you think you’re up to?’ Devlor Bastorran demanded.

She relaxed and let the sword slip back into its scabbard. ‘Just keeping my hand in.’

‘Fool. Do you have any idea the risk you’re running brawling in public like this? Not to mention forcing me to be seen with you.’

‘You worry too much. We were only disposing of a few malcontents. You should be grateful.’

‘Grateful be damned. We’re perfectly capable of dealing with this rabble without your help. I want you out of here.’

‘All right, all right. I’m going.’

‘Oh, no, I’m not taking your word for it. You’re leaving under escort. I’ll have my aide go with you.’ He looked around. ‘Where the devil is the man? Where’s Meakin?’ he yelled at two lieutenants twenty paces distant. They shrugged and shook their heads. ‘Well, find him!’ he bellowed. The pair scurried off.

‘It’s wonderful,’ Aphri told him.

‘What is?’

‘The new state I’m in. The connection with the grid. I’ve never felt so powerful.’

‘I know,’ Bastorran said. ‘But do me a favour, Kordenza. Save it for Caldason.’