The Blinding Knife(24)

“We have one week,” he told Karris. “This bay is too wide, so we’ll need to build seawalls off that point and from there to there. I’m going to have to clear out the reefs. I’m thinking of clearing them in a zigzag pattern so that if an invading navy comes here, they’ll be destroyed, but we’ll have marked the safe way so that the locals can direct traffic. Buoys that can be moved? I also haven’t decided how wide the safe path should be. If it’s too narrow, you keep supplies from getting into the city and it simply becomes too expensive for many people to live here, but too open and the reefs no longer serve as a deterrent. So your thoughts are more than welcome. Other than that, I’ll need your help prioritizing what things I need to build to give my people a running start. Do we clear the jungle—and if so, how? Do we need to build a wall against the native animals, against the native people? Should we try to build any houses, or would that be too much work?”

Karris was just looking at him. “You know, every time I think I know you… You’re really doing this, aren’t you? You’re founding a city. Not just a village. You’re planning for it to be a major center.”

“Not during my life.” Gavin smiled.

“You know, if you keep changing everything you touch, nothing’s going to be the same five years from now.”

Five years. It was supposed to be the remainder of his term as Prism. But he was already dying, and pretty soon Karris would notice. “No,” he said, “I hope it’s not.”

Five years, and five great purposes left. Except now he only had one year.





Chapter 14




The only thing this place needs to make it creepier is cobwebs blowing in the wind. Kip stared into the pitch black of Lord Andross Guile’s room with something less than glee.

“You’re letting in light,” Grinwoody said. “Are you trying to kill my lord?”

“No, no, I’m—” I’m always apologizing. “I’m coming in.” He stepped forward, through several layers of heavy tapestries that blocked light from the room.

The air inside the room was stale, still, hot. It reeked of old man. And it was impossibly dark. Kip began sweating instantly.

“Come here,” a raspy voice said. It was low, gravelly, like Lord Guile hadn’t spoken all day.

Kip moved forward with little steps, sure he’d trip and disgrace himself. It was like a dragon’s den.

Something touched his face. He flinched. Not a cobweb, a feathery light touch. Kip stopped. He had somehow expected Andross Guile to be an invalid, seated in a wheeled chair perhaps, like a dark mirror of the White. But this man was standing.

The hand was firm, though with few calluses. It traced Kip’s chubby face, felt the texture of his hair, the curve of his nose, pressed his lips, went against the grain of Kip’s incipient beard. Kip winced, terribly aware of the pimples he had where his beard was coming in.

“So you’re the bastard,” Andross Guile said.

“Yes, my lord.”

Out of nowhere, something nearly tore Kip’s head off. He crashed into the wall so hard he would have broken something if it hadn’t been covered in layers of tapestries, too. He fell to the carpeted floor, his cheek burning, ears ringing.

“That was for existing. Never shame this family again.”

Kip stood unsteadily, too surprised to even be angry. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but a blow out of the darkness hadn’t been it. “My apologies for being born, my lord.”

“You have no idea.”

There was silence. The darkness was oppressive. Whatever you do, Gavin had said, don’t make him an enemy. Could it get any hotter in here?

“Get out,” Andross Guile said finally. “Get out now.”

Kip left, having the distinct feeling that he’d failed.





Chapter 15




The Color Prince was rubbing his temples. Liv Danavis couldn’t take her eyes off of him. No one could. The man was practically carved of pure luxin. Blue plates covered his forearms, made spiky gauntlets for his fists. Woven blue luxin made up much of his skin, with yellow flowing in rivers beneath the surface, constantly replenishing the rest. Flexible green luxin made up his joints. Only his face was human, and barely at that. His skin was knotted with burn scars, and his eyes—halos so broken as to be absent—were a swirl of every color, not just his irises, but the whites as well. Right now, those sclera swirled blue, then yellow as he sat on the great chair in the audience chamber of the Travertine Palace, deciding how to split up the city he’d just conquered—and found nearly empty.