Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 211
good as dead. Was he just going to stand here and let whatever
it was that was coming take him?
Angry at his own helplessness, Jordan stopped walking,
dropped his arms to his sides, and breathed in deeply. Once.
Twice. He called on all the things Calandria had taught him,
and tried to subdue the panic. All so he could have his own
eyes back, for just a moment.
He felt the kaleidoscope of visions clearing, and tilted his
head back. He saw the cloudless sky, scattered with the first
stars of evening like finest jewels on blue silk.
And he saw the Heaven hooks.
Linden Boros displayed the family smile to Calandria. It
was no more charming coming from him than it had been from
Yuri or Marice. He was dressed in dark riding breeches and a
red embroidered jacket, as if he had just arrived from the
stables. He had ten men with him, all armed. August Ostler
stood near him, looking uncomfortable.
"August told me there was a fight," said Linden. "Were
you a witness to it, lady?" His bodyguards had their swords
out.
Calandria looked at the swords, wide-eyed. "What is this
about?"
"It would seem my bastard brother has overstepped his
boundaries," Linden said dryly. "Through his friend Turcaret."
He gestured for her to come up the steps. She walked up to
stand before him.
"Where is my apprentice?" she asked. "He should be
with your man here." She indicated Ostler.
Linden's brows furrowed slightly. He glanced at Ostler,
who shrugged. "Not my concern," he said. "But I think you
owe us an explanation."