Read Online No Return by Zachary Jernigan - Free Book Online Page A

think they’re fighting for dust. The real fun starts on the first day of the new year.” He held up a finger. “But because the sects are hosting the whole thing, it’s their rules.”
    “What does that mean?”
    The smile broadened. “The eight fighters who make it to the winners’ circle may opt out with their cuts.”
    Churls felt mildly insulted. “Are you saying I can’t win?”
    “Yes.” His hand fell over hers. “The gambling houses are going mad with the news. Berun registered before leaving Golna. Even at your peak, you couldn’t have taken him.”
    She felt more insulted, but knew he spoke the truth. “How, then,” she asked, “do you know I won’t be matched against him in the lower rounds?”
    Gorum shrugged. “I don’t, obviously. The odds, though, are in your favor. One in eight isn’t bad, and they’re trying to organize the groups geographically.”
    That kind of bracketing would not work out well, Churls reasoned, because more than a few fighters from Dareth Hlum would have dropped out when they heard Berun was fighting. Still, she could count on many people using Gorum’s rationale, hoping to avoid Berun and drop out once they made it to the winners’ circle. Adrashi fighters with backers, especially—men who could afford to travel across the continent in luxurious wagon trains, assured of their safe passage through Nos Ulom—would still find a way to attend.
    “Still,” she said. “How do I get there? Nos Ulom’s not the friendliest place in the world, and I sure as shit won’t go through any part of Toma.”
    “The people I want you to travel with aren’t taking that route.”
    Churls looked at him, hand raised to signal another round. “What other route is there?” It dawned on her. “Lake Ten? I suppose that solves a problem, but it’ll cost going through Tansot. And Bitsan isn’t the friendliest city in the world, either. You stopped that fight with Hoetz just because his people had scheduled it there, remember—even though I had arranged for a...” She curled her upper lip. “Chaperon.”
    “Regardless, that’s where you’ll sail from. Oh, and one other thing. Neither of your companions are trackers. Somehow, you must convince or fool them into going over the Steps.”
    This was too much. Churls slapped the table. “That’s five hundred miles out of the fucking way! What kind of fool would travel over the Steps when they could walk in a straight line through Stol?”
    Gorum looked torn between wanting to grin and wanting to duck his head under the table.
    “Your kind,” he said. “Now let me explain.”
    ‡
    Even with all the money at stake, it took some time to convince her. The young men of the badlands waited as long as they could, eventually shuffling out with wistful glances in her direction. The bartender upended the rickety chairs and stools, and then poured himself a drink, seemingly content to sit and listen to Gorum and Churls talk.
    It was after midnight when they stumbled into her hostel bedroom. They unclothed each other clumsily and made love on blankets she would not have touched sober.
    For Churls, it was like walking into her apartment in West Onsa, smelling the faint mildew rot everything took on near the ocean, stretching out in her favorite chair. She missed the city, of course. She had spent most of her life away from it, fighting in some form, but she had always known in which direction home lay.
    Sleep would not come. She sat in the room’s only chair, flipping a throwing knife in her hand and watching Gorum sleeping. Finally, she retrieved her sword and polished the blade with spit and a pinch of bonedust.
    He shook her shoulder. “I gotta go.”
    Her blade lay naked across her thighs. She did not remember falling asleep, yet the details of their conversation the night before had crystallized in her mind. She blinked away a map of Knoori marked with the planned route he had told her they would use.
    Ridiculous. Sailing across