Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
He’s wearing a black and red silky robe and shorts, lounging on his bed with a paintbrush in his hand, a canvas perched on an easel to one side. He’s painting a view of the city, and it’s not bad. Wouldn’t have picked him for the artistic type. His hair isn’t gelled up the way it was when I saw him in the Hall of Bones. It is swept to one side in an artistic sort of way, giving him the appearance of a relaxed, surprisingly cultured young thing. He appeared to be such an incorrigible little shit when he was brought before Avel. This change in appearance and temperament is quite interesting.
“Torin, right?” I check to make sure it’s really him. It could easily be some other saurian, I suppose, though I don’t think I could forget his face, and the smirk he gives me is highly reminiscent of the looks he gave Avel before he was humbled.
“Yes,” he says, making a few languid strokes on his canvas. There’s something very strange about this scene, though I am finding it hard to say exactly what is striking me so oddly. Perhaps it is simply how calm it is. I have been roughly treated, injured, cursed at, and dragged about the place for what feels like days. Now it seems as though I am waking up at some perfectly congenial sleepover.
“How did I get here?”
“They brought you to me after you overdosed on saurjuice. You drank enough to drop a tank. You should probably be dead.” He glances over at me, lime green gaze somewhat reproachful, as if I should have known better.
“I’m surprisingly hard to kill.”
“Actually, you’re very easy to kill. It’s just that I decided to give you the antidote. Saurspice reverses the effects of the juice.”
These names are pretty odd. They’re the equivalent of saying peoplejuice and peoplespice, but I’m not here to challenge the saurian linguistic experience. I’m here to float on a raft of cushions, none of which came from anything resembling the same place. This whole room looks thrown together by someone who picks up anything that takes their fancy and brings it home whether it makes sense or not.
“Thank you. Why did you do that?”
“Thought saving you might earn me some time off my sentence or commute it completely. I know Avel likes you. He almost murdered my uncle in front of the entire city to get you. So I figure, if I save your life, he won’t send me off to do…” Torin pauses for a moment, then shivers visibly with disgust. “Construction.”
“You don’t want to do construction? You just want to do crime?” I am curious. This version of Torin is so different from the one I encountered earlier.
“I don’t want to be a criminal. That was all for my father and uncle’s benefit. I want to be an artist. But I knew they expected me to do something to make them proud on my birthday. So I stole a couple things, then dressed the part, and got Avel’s beating. That whole thing should have earned me a free pass for years. But then Avel had to sentence me to hard labor. So I went into hiding. I heard the idiots who took you trying to decide how to end you, and the rest is history.”
“That was nice of you. Thank you.”
He gives a languid shrug. “I didn’t do it entirely for you. I figured you might be useful.”
I’ll give him that. At this point, I don’t really care why he helped me. I’m just glad he did.
“Where are we right now?”
“Tunnels,” he says. “Old tunnels. They existed even before the primal that made Grave City what it is came here to pass on. My clan use them for getaways and storage and things like that. Saurians don’t like to be underground, generally, so this is a good place to be when the alpha and his minions are on a roll.”
“They must know about the tunnels too? The alphas?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Are you hungry? I have cake.” He gestures to a cake sitting on a little round table near his bed. “Help yourself.”
I get to my feet, which is not a painless experience, but it can be done. I am not sure that eating is the best idea. I have sustained damage to my face and jaw and ribs, and god knows what else, but those juicy numbing effects are still in, well, effect.
When I reach the plate containing the confection, I discover that he doesn’t just have cake. He has gooey berry chocolate cake. Chocolate is one of the universe’s most prolific exports, and a plant of human origin. I serve myself a generous slice onto a small plate which sits nearby. Torin’s little den has plenty of creature comforts to hand. Feeding a handful of the stuff into my face, I chew gingerly as my mouth is absolutely suffused with some of the most delicious texture and flavor I have ever had the joy of experiencing.