Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(11)

A feeling of urgency struck her heart. It was Rand communicating to her. There was a thrill of excitement. The tempest was coming. He could see it.



Cettie joined Rand on the rooftop of the warehouse. The guards who hadn’t fled for their lives had been dispatched, their bodies brought below to avoid the notice of anyone in the sky ship.

“I’m going to stay,” Rand whispered to her. “I’ll get a better view from up here. You just keep the sky ship from fleeing. I know you can overwhelm the pilot. I’ll join you on board when you bring it low enough.”

She nodded. “I’ll wait down below.”

She was about to leave, but he caught her arm. “You did well, Cettie.” She felt his approval, his respect, and it made her cheeks warm. Rand wasn’t the man whose good opinion she most desired, but there was something intoxicating about his admiration.

Are you sure he’s truly Rand?

As she walked back down the stairs, she wondered at the ring she’d felt on his finger. She hadn’t seen it, only felt it, which meant it was a ring that could alter his appearance. Did that mean this man was someone else, pretending to be the Rand she knew? But he was so exactly who she remembered him to be . . .

Were there other kinds of magic rings in this world?

The situation unnerved her, yet she tried to banish her feelings, lest he sense them too.

Back in the lower room, she checked the pulse of the man she’d drugged. He was still alive. Breathing a sigh of relief, which she quickly cut short, remembering Rand could feel her feelings too, she exited the room back to the courtyard. She sat behind a large crate, her back to it, and felt the night wind caress her hot face.

Sitting in the shadows, she waited and waited, and then she heard it. Faintly, just a whisper, almost as gentle as the breeze. It grew louder. Not the rush of wind, not the distant echo of voices, but a clear and simple blend of harmonies that carried on the air. Leering magic. The sounds came from the tempest descending to the warehouse’s interior courtyard. As it lowered toward the ground, she heard the voices of the men on board. They spoke the language of the empire. Just hearing her own language again made her giddy inside.

Suddenly, the Leerings on the underbelly of the tempest were activated, and the courtyard was bathed in light. It was strong and made her wince. If she hadn’t been hiding behind a crate, too near a wall and too far from the tempest to be seen from its vantage point, she’d have been exposed.

The tempest hovered over the courtyard. She could sense its magic, along with the confusion and fatigue of the tired crew.

“I don’t see anyone waiting for us,” someone said, his voice rebounding off the cobblestones. “Is this the right warehouse?”

“It’s the Arsine. I’ve been here before,” said another man. “They should be expecting us.”

“I don’t like it,” said another man.

“Captain, want me to go down and knock on the door?”

Cettie frowned. If he did, he’d see the bodies strewn there. Where was Rand? Why hadn’t he acted yet?

“Go down and see,” said another voice. She could sense the changing mood of the crew—dread and worry creeping up on them the longer their welcome was delayed.

Cettie heard the noise of a rope ladder being unfurled and dropped over the edge of the sky ship. The stretching noises the rope made indicated a member of the crew was on the way down. She bit her lip, straining to hear the sound of Rand’s arquebus.

The man’s boots hit the ground and started across the courtyard. Peering around the edge of the crate, Cettie saw him reach the doors. She held her breath as he tried the handle, then pushed the door open.

That was when Rand struck.

In three quick bursts, three members of the crew were shot down.

“Up! Up!” screamed someone, and Cettie felt the Leerings thrum to life. She reached out to the ship’s Control Leering with her mind and ordered it to drop the tempest lower and swing it around. It obeyed her at once, and she heard the cries and shouts of crew members as they were thrown down by the sudden spin. Some of them tottered over the side and crashed onto the cobblestones.

She felt the pilot struggling to wrench control of the tempest away from her, but her will, backed by the power of the kystrel, outmatched his. Keeping the tempest in a spin, she rose from behind the crate and walked toward the dangling rope ladder. Rand continued to fire down on the crew from above, killing those who’d fallen overboard with brutal efficiency.

As soon as she grabbed the scratchy rope of the ladder, she felt another will join the pilot’s. There were at least two mastons on board, then—the pilot, and someone else. As the weight of their combined will pressed against hers, the tempest began to rise again. She quickly dug her boots into the rungs and started up, quelling their command with her own. The tempest trembled in the air, like a leaf caught in a gale.

She gritted her teeth, climbing up the ropes quickly, efficiently, as the tempest suddenly began to rise faster. She felt the wind whip through her hair. Cettie scowled, impressed with the strength united against her. Were there three of them? Was the captain one of them, perhaps? She felt a surge of anger from Rand as he united his will with hers. The tempest began to list toward the warehouse itself, its movement uncontrolled. If she were still on the rope ladder when it struck, it would crush her.

Cettie had climbed the waterfall wall dozens of times, and a rope ladder, even in these conditions, was easy in comparison. She grasped the top edge of the tempest just as a man looked overboard. She caught a glimpse of graying hair and enormous sideburns, before she grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him down. He landed in the courtyard with a thud.