Smoke and Shadow: The Fireweaver, Book 1

Chapter 4. BRICK BY BRICK

CHAPTER 4. BRICK BY BRICK

He cut through her hair, one knotted section at a time. Once, it had fallen thick and gleaming over her shoulders, like cut obsidian. Now a stranger stood behind her working a dull, stolen dagger through it like it was boat rigging. 

"Piece of shit," he said, sawing through another piece.

"Excuse me?"

"Shit blade," he said, and got through the last chunk, which fell in a frizzed cloud around her ankles. She brushed the stray hairs off her neck. Good. Wouldn't be as recognizable this way. Besides, it had been a snaggled mess from prison. She was glad to be rid of it.

She could hardly believe he'd agreed to take her to the house, which sat on the quiet outskirts of Sorchea. Not a soul in sight. Probably the only reason he'd agreed to it. Or maybe the five-thousand lezions had tempted him after all.

They approached it slowly, what was left of it. Scorched foundation, black timbers poking out like some grotesque, broken ribcage. The wind scoured the land, loud enough to smother the dry sobs rising in her. The huef stopped suddenly and snorted. Wouldn't go any closer. The Anadeim tied the reins to a tree.

Only the steps and hand rail of the house were untouched by flame. The blackened timbers stood all around shells of rooms, hinting at what the house had once been. The wind tugged at a scrap of frayed blue linen where her kitchen window had been. Where she had countless times pulled back the curtain to watch the sun rise, or after dinner, to watch her son push trucks through the sand box. A small bulldozer and a scoop stuck out right where he'd left them. She fell to her knees, retching, but there was nothing left to come out.

He yanked her back up as his voice pushed into her head. 

Quiet. We're not alone. He straightened, stilled. Two heartbeats not far from the house. 

They returned to the cover of trees where the huef waited, also alert. The voices came over the wind, and two men appeared around the perimeter of the stone foundation. 

Did you know they were here? He gripped her arm. 

I swear I didn't know.

"All of it," said the one stranger, tall and beak-nosed. "Every last piece of this shithole. I want it gone by end of the day tomorrow."

The shorter, fat one shook his head. "Gonna take my crew a few days to haul it all out. Slow goin'."

"Get a bigger crew."

"Gonna cost you."

The taller man said something she couldn't hear. And then she saw it, there, under his arm. All the life savings she and her husband had saved through the years. A stranger had the smooth wooden box clutched under his arm. 

She let out a gasp and the Anadeim clapped a hand over her face, but the man with the strongbox had heard and squinted in their direction. A twig cracked under the huef. The Anadeim swore. 

Let me guess. That's the strongbox?

She nodded, unbelieving, his hand still pressed to her mouth.

And you don't know either of them?

No. She wanted to stamp hard on his foot. Elbow him in the face. I've never seen either of them before.

The man holding the box pulled out his gun with a subtle and smooth flick of a wrist. She heard the click of the safety. They had the cover of trees, but not for long. The tall man pressed something that was on his wrist, began speaking.