Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 229
was to come.
Now the Winds had arrived, and they were destroying the
estate! He would have thought they disapproved of Yuri’s
assassination, were it not that he could hear plainly they
wanted only one thing: Jordan Mason.
Turcaret himself meant nothing to them. That knowledge
came as a deep blow, worse than anything Chan had inflicted.
At the foot of the stairs, people were spilling into the
courtyard. He could see Linden Boros trying to organize his
men among tilting statues. The terrifying arms of the Hooks
reared overhead.
Turcaret ignored them; they were no threat to him. He
scanned the faces in the courtyard. He had seen Mason once,
being hoisted aloft in Castor’s courtyard for some minor
victory. And indeed, there he was coming out of the front hall.
He looked more boy than man, his dark hair tousled, eyes wide.
"Give me your sword," Turcaret demanded of a passing
soldier. Dazed though he was, the man hurried to comply.
Turcaret hefted the blade and walked through the mob, eyes
fixed on Mason.
What was this boy to the Winds? He was nothing but a
loutish tradesman, and yet the Heaven hooks were willing to
kill everyone on the estate to get at him. "You!" Turcaret
levelled his sword at Mason. "What did you do to anger
them?"
"I don’t know!" shouted the boy. He shook himself and
glared at Turcaret. "And who are you to accuse me?"
Anger always calmed Turcaret; it gave him focus. He
smiled now at the boy. "You've spent too long with Chan.
Answer me! What have you done to offend the Winds?"
Uncertainty crept into Mason's eyes again. He was lit in
intermittent flashes of lightning, making him seem to shift in