Soulwoven

Chapter Five

~5~

Ryse Lethien stared at the rainspout.

It hung from a thick wall of plaster in front of her, twenty feet high at least, sticking out from a wooden gutter below a red tile roof. A light breeze, smelling of dampness and rain in the west, ruffled her robes. The moon hung high and bright.

Her legs burned. Her heart beat fast and hard.

I haven’t climbed this in eight years, she thought, but she put her hands on the slick, old wood and started up anyway. Her body remembered where every hand and foothold was: when to reach around the back of the spout and stick her thumb into a divot on the side of the house, where to jam her toe in order to get her knee up onto the roof, which tile to hook her fingers underneath to pull the rest of her body up. It was easier than it had been eight years before. Much easier.

I’m taller now, she realized. And stronger.

She stood cautiously on the slick, clay tiles, took a deep breath of chilly air and surveyed the lights of the city—Temple Dome bright and harsh in the north, the palace stern and white to the east, a few hazy glows in streets or houses between. A heavy fog covered the breadth of the Eldwater and most of the slums, was already creeping in amongst the houses of the Merchants’ Crescent.

On top of the roof, she rose above it all.

Breathe, she told herself, then move.

Ryse had little with her. Just her bag and her white robe on her back and a brown cloak over the top. She had snuck through the columns of Temple Complex like a ghost in the moonlight and run pell-mell down the streets of Temple Hill, ducking through alleyways and jumping fences. When the dilapidated old homes of Thieves’ Rise had risen before her, she’d curved west and doubled back toward the river and the tall houses of the Crescent.

She hadn’t even realized where her feet were taking her until she’d slowed down and discovered she was only two streets over from the Jin household.

Of course, she’d thought. Where else would she go?

She crept gently across the red roof and jumped catlike from its slate tiles onto the spiky, damp thatch of the Jins’ home. The scent of a thousand rainstorms and a hundred memories wafted over her. She remembered endless nights spent bundled under blankets with Litnig and Cole, naming the stars and telling stories and boasting over a hundred little nothings.

She crawled across the thatch and peeked down. The brothers’ old window was open, just a few feet below her.

She hoped it still led to their room.

Ryse lay on her belly and dug her hands into the thatch for support, then swung her legs through the window and dropped to the balls of her feet on the sill.

The room beyond the window definitely still belonged to Litnig and Cole. The wardrobe had crossed the floor, and the beds had moved from the inside walls to the outer walls, but—

A dark shape shot toward her from the corner, and as she pivoted to face it, her heel caught on her robe. Her butt dropped toward the street. Her wrist slammed into the window frame. Her feet lost traction—

A hand caught her wrist.

She looked up into the gray eyes of Litnig Jin. He was shirtless, his hair mussed at crazy angles. His grip was strong as iron.

“Ryse?” he whispered as he pulled her in. “What are you doing here?”

Her stomach roiled as her feet found the floor. Twenty feet was a long way to fall onto hard stone.