The Burn (A Runner Series Companion)

Chapter 14: Kay

206 A.B.

(3 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

I lie stretched out on the rooftop, my arms folded behind my head while the sun warms the stone beneath me. My eyes are shut, my face turned up to catch the bright rays while I drift in that lovely place between sleep and wakefulness.

A small smile pulls at my lips as I settle myself more comfortably. The chatter of the distant crowd carries on ceaselessly, completely oblivious to my presence. The high, gentile voices of the Intact citizens fill my ears, alerting me to the fact that I am lazing well outside of my faction.

It doesn't matter. When I am up here, I am within no one's territory but my own. These roofs are more home to me than the street have ever been, and I wouldn't trade this rough, sun-baked surface for the cushiest Palace salon.

My stomach growls noisily, distracting me from the pleasant feeling of sunshine on my extremities. I grimace and sit up, peering over the edge of the roof and down into the wide street below. The front doors of the temple are still tightly shut, but the day's sacred service should be concluding at any moment.

As if on cue, there is the ringing of bells. I stand up straight, dusting my hands off on my torn pants and adjusting the satchel I have slung across my back.

It's showtime.

I swing down over the side of the building, sidling along its exterior towards the sound of chiming bells. The belltower reverberates beneath my hands and feet, threatening to throw me from the wall. I grit my teeth as I grip the uneven stone, curling my toes into the narrow gaps and moving quickly towards the opening ahead.

The bells clatter madly over my head, assaulting my senses when I slip through the opening to the tower and drop down onto the floor.

"Bloody bells." I grumble. Stooping, I flip open my satchel and withdraw a light blue robe. I slip it on over my head, belting it securely before stashing my satchel below the window and jogging lightly to the stairs.

The relentless clanging does a handy job of disguising my footsteps as I spiral down the narrow tower steps. I draw the hood of my robe up and over my head, pushing back the wayward strands of hair as I descend. I encounter another hooded holyman when I reach the bottom of the stairs but he pays me little mind, nodding cordially and humming an eerie hymn as he floats past.

I tuck my hands into the folds of my robe and bow my head, being careful to keep my steps slow and deliberate. Mimicking the low hum of the oblivious priest, I murmur to myself while I move down the hallway. I spy a discarded collection plate lying on a table ahead and I alter my path, scooping up the dish without slowing or breaking my stride.

With my posture stooped and my head bowed, there is nothing to distinguish me from the other blue-robed priests and priestesses littering the upper walkway. My eyes continually flick around my surroundings, darting to the scene below and narrowing as I watch the Intact congregation raise themselves out of their kneeling positions. I pick up my pace and scurry down the ornately-carved staircase, aiming to head the crowd off at the door.

"Tokens, a token for the service." I murmur, raising the collection dish up in front of my face.

I move smoothly through the throng, angling my shoulders so that I brush against the elegant, sweeping clothes surrounding me.

"Tokens? Madam, a token, please if you can spare it." I offer up the dish, eyeing the heavy purse dangling from her belt.

The woman releases a small, exasperated sound and reaches for a coin, placing it daintily in the silver dish.