Blood and Moonlight by Erin Beaty EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author:Erin Beaty
- Language: English
- Genre:Epic Fantasy
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I’m waiting for the moon.
All other ground-level windows in the neighborhood are shuttered for the
night as I lean out of ours to look. A breeze whisks up the deserted street,
carrying the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder from the west.
The city of Collis covers a large hill rising from the flat plains, but my view
of the approaching storm is blocked by angled roofs. If I balance on my
hips and crane my neck as far as it will go, the rose window and towers of
the Holy Sanctum to the east are just visible through a gap between houses.
Even without moonlight, the white facade glows against the ebony blanket
of sky, washing out all the stars.
Not high enough yet.
I sigh and lever myself back inside as Magister Thomas comes down the
stairs into the workroom behind me. The architect pauses when he sees me,
his eyebrows so high they disappear in the chestnut hair peeking out from
under his cap. “Catrin?” he says. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”
“No, Magister.” I remove the angled support and lower the shutter,
sliding the bolts into the frame before turning to face my employer’s frown.
“If I didn’t know better,” he observes, “I’d say you’re dressed for
climbing.”
After dinner I’d traded my calf-length working skirt for a much shorter
one over a man’s breeches and bound and pinned my dark curls into
submission. “I am,” I admit. “I wanted to check on a bowed crossbeam I
noticed this morning on the southern scaffolds.”
The master architect’s frown deepens, creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t
you do it earlier?”
“Well…” I count the reasons on my fingers. “Between showing the
Comte de Montcuir around the work site all morning, verifying the
alignment of the drainage system, writing up the stone orders for you to
sign, and visiting the market in search of fresh rosemary for Mistress la
Fontaine, I ran out of time.” I drop my hands and shrug. “Besides, it’s easier
to inspect when the scaffolds aren’t crawling with workers.”
“Hmmph.” The architect eyes my belt, which doesn’t hold the small
hammer I usually carry. “And no wandering hands to smash. How many
this week?” he asks severely.
His ire isn’t directed at me, so I smile. “Only three or four.”
If the apprentices—and some of the older craftsmen—would just keep
their hands to themselves, they wouldn’t have to worry about their fingers. I
don’t hit hard enough to break bones the first time, and once is usually
enough.
“Show me where your concern is, then.” Magister Thomas nods to the
scale replica of Collis’s Sanctum which dominates the room. The model is
as old as the Sanctum itself, started decades ago.
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