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Chapter 1
TWO WEEKS WE’D been in Cofton and was still getting lost. The town lay inland, west of the Novel Zem coast, miles from the harbor where we’d landed.
Soon we would go farther, deep into the wilds of the Zemeni frontier. Maybe then we’d begin to feel safe.
I checked the little map I’d drawn for myself and retraced my steps.
Mal and I met every day after work to walk back to the boardinghouse together, but today I’d gotten completely turned around when I’d detoured to buy our dinner.
The calf and collard pies were stuffed into my satchel and giving off a very peculiar smell.
The shopkeeper had claimed they were a Zemeni delicacy, but had my doubts. It didn’t much matter. Everything tasted like ashes to me lately.
Mal and I had come to Cofton to find work that would finance our trip west, It was the center of the jurda trade, surrounded by fields of the little orange flowers that people chewed by the bushel.
The stimulant was considered a luxury in Ravka, but some of the sailors aboard the Verrhader had used it to stay awake on long watches.
Yemeni men liked to tuck the dried blooms between lip and gum, and even the women carried them in embroidered pouches that dangled from their wrists.
Each store window I passed advertised different brands: Brightleaf, Shade, Dhoka, and the Burly.
I saw a beautifully dressed girl in petticoats lean over and spit a stream of rust-colored juice right into one of the brass spittoons that sat outside every shop door.
I stifled a gag. That was one Zemeni custom I didn’t think I could get used to.
With a sigh of relief, I turned onto the city’s main thoroughfare. At least now I knew where I was. Cofton still didn’t feel quite real to me.
There was something raw and unfinished about it. Most of the streets were unpaved, and I always felt like the flat-roofed buildings with their flimsy wooden walls might tip over at any minute.
And yet they all had glass windows. The women dressed in velvet and lace.
The shop displays overflowed with sweets and baubles and all manner of finery instead of rifles, knives, and tin cookpots.
Here, even the beggars wore shoes. This was what a country looked like when it wasn’t under siege.
| Author | Leigh Bardugo |
| Language | English |
| No. of Pages | 336 |
| PDF Size | 1.5 MB |
| Category | Story |
| Source/Credits | archive.org |
Siege And Storm Book PDF Free Download