Today's Reading
"I saw a few on my way over," Sunho said, recalling the pounding of feet and the bobbing of the lanterns in the dark streets. He'd kept to the shadows to avoid their light.
He'd come directly from a job in the eighth ward, as hired muscle for a raid. If he'd been caught without the proper papers explaining his presence in Mid City, he'd have been thrown in prison. Two big jobs in one night was risky, but Yurhee's missive that morning had promised a large payout.
"Sunho, you're hurt." Yurhee reached out a hand to his neck, and he took a step back on instinct. He must have been nicked in the raid.
Yurhee lifted a brow, then drew her hand away. "Sorry. Habit. I have a soft spot for closed-off, emotionally inaccessible boys."
Behind her, Tag lifted his brow, frowning slightly.
Sunho had met the two of them a month ago, when they'd hired him for a job pilfering cargo from a petty gangster. They only stole from 'greedy bastards who deserve it, the bastards', as Yurhee put it. Neither of them was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, which was why they'd posted a job seeking a sword-for-hire.
"I'll check on the explosives," Tag mumbled. Crouching by the wall, he shifted aside strands of ivy to reveal two canister bombs rigged to detonate on a timer.
Unease settled in Sunho's stomach. His jobs up until now had been low risk—stealing from a Sareniyan mithril factory was on an entirely different scale. If they were caught, they'd face far worse than prison.
Yurhee reached into her jacket and pulled out a scroll, unfurling it with a flick of her wrist. Sketches of buildings in a wide area were scrawled with notes on guard rotations and estimated travel time between marked locations. "We need to get from here"—she pointed to their position outside the wall at the northeast corner—"to here." Her finger jabbed a point in the largest building at the back of the factory grounds, marked with an 'X'.
"What's there?" Sunho asked.
She winked, rolling up the map and tucking it into her jacket. "You'll find out soon enough."
There was still time to back out, but then he wouldn't get the payment Yurhee had promised. Sunho adjusted his strap so that his sword, sheathed inside a bag slung over his shoulder, fell more securely across his back. He lifted his gaze upward to where the top of the factory wall was barely visible through the thick haze of smoke.
"Heads up," Yurhee called. He turned in time to catch the grappling gun she tossed him. "You do know how to use that, right?" Without waiting for a response, she jumped onto Tag's back. He aimed and fired—the hook pierced the wall near the top. Then he triggered the line, and they zoomed up and over.
Sunho aimed the barrel to the left of Tag's hook and pressed the trigger. It split the concrete, and he braced his grip as he was yanked upward, landing atop the wall in a crouch just as the factory horn let out another booming sound, smoke billowing out of the flues.
He rappelled down the opposite side, joining Tag and Yurhee behind a stack of tall crates. Yurhee placed a finger to her lips. Through a crack between the crates, they saw two security guards making their rounds, their lanterns casting grotesque shapes on the walls of the buildings they passed.
They wore smoke-filtration masks, standard-issue shortswords at their waists. Their voices carried, and Sunho picked up pieces of their conversation—a noodle shop had opened in the eighth ward and they planned to grab a late-night meal after their shift.
The guards passed by the opening of an alley, the light from their lanterns illuminating the narrow gap, before disappearing from view around the corner.
"See that?" Yurhee said. "We'll cut directly across. It's the fastest route."
They moved silently from behind the crates, sprinting across the open space and into the alley. Here the smoke was thicker, funneled as it was between buildings. In front of him, Yurhee unhooked a mask from her utility belt, strapping it over her face. On either side of them were the refineries, where the mithril ore was purified into bars, the leftover material discarded as scrap. The alley was littered with piles of the metal, and he was careful not to kick one loose where it might skitter and alert the guards.
Even though he'd only glimpsed the map, Sunho had memorized the layout of the factory, with the refineries—six total, built side by side in blocks of three—at the front of the compound and the warehouse at the back, nearest the gate that led into Mid City.
At the end of the alley, they waited for the guards to pass, their bright lanterns giving away their positions. No one spoke, conscious now of the danger on all sides—paired guards circling all three refinery blocks made for a lot of passing lanterns. They were at the end of the last alley, almost in the clear, when a door opened in a recessed part of the wall. A guard wearing a filtration mask stepped out.
Sighting Sunho, he lashed out at him with a concealed dagger. Sunho dodged the attack. Lunging forward, he gripped the guard by the mask and slammed his head against the wall. The guard slumped unconscious to the floor.
Tag slipped through the open door, returning a short few minutes later. He shook his head. No one else was in the building.
This excerpt is from the ebook edition.
Monday we begin the book SOLVING FOR THE UNKNOWS by Joan Le.
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