Death Cultivator by eden Hudson (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📗

Mohawk Lady smirked. “Guess you’re here looking for offers from the Technols like everybody else out here in the bazaar?”

“I can’t see the odds on that being high, especially given the number of artificers out here.” Kest gestured at me. “We entered the riot bracket as a backup plan.”

“Not too dumb, then,” Mohawk Lady said. “And you’ve got that innocent look. Born on Van Diemann, I’m guessing?”

“I’m third-gen.”

“Then let me give you a tip. If you ever get off-planet, you keep that location-cloaking to yourself. Even knowing how to build it will get you locked up most places.”

Kest nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mohawk Lady typed something on her HUD. “And if you don’t make an affiliation from the riot bracket, message me. The Technols could use a builder who’s not afraid to fight. We might even be able to fund some off-planet expeditions for someone who looks clean and knows how to get around Universal law.”

Kest’s HUD buzzed.

Before either of us could say anything, the huge woman moved on down the line of unlicensed sellers.

When Kest turned to me, her lacy eyes were wider than ever.

“That was a Technol,” she said. “A Technol who wants me to work for the most well-supplied builders on the planet—maybe the universe. Technols run a lot of the most advanced unConfederated planets, and word is they’re the brains hiding behind a lot of the legit manufacturers in the Confederated system.”

A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Kest, are you excited?”

“I can’t tell. I think so? I kind of want to run after her and beg her to let me work for her.” She shook her head. “But you don’t jump at the first sign of interest. That’s what they want me to do. I need to get leverage. Negotiate.”

Then her lacy eyes cut to me and she blurted, “Don’t tell Rali,” out of nowhere.

“What?” I frowned. “Why not?”

“If he hears about it, he’ll put everything he’s trying to accomplish to the side.”

“What’s Rali trying to accomplish? He doesn’t care about...basically anything.”

Kest rolled her eyes. “You seriously haven’t seen through that yet? Rali’s got more irons in the fire than you know—than even I know, because I don’t ask him—but he cares about his friends more than anything.”

“Why not just tell us what he wants?” I asked. “We could’ve been helping him get it.”

“It’s just what he’s like. To him, it would look bad for someone who’s worked so hard at cultivating the appearance of a carefree slacker to get serious about something. It’s like an honor thing, except with looking lazy. I don’t read those old sword epics, so I don’t know what kind of nonsense quest he made up. I just know that if it comes out the Technols made an offer and I’m considering it, Rali will drop whatever he’s doing and put all his energy behind getting me affiliated.”

“Kind of like he’s doing right now for me and Warcry?”

“That’s different. Your lives are in danger.”

I nodded, but it didn’t sound different.

“Swear you won’t tell him?” Kest asked.

“If you really don’t want me to, I swear.”

She hugged me. “Thanks.”

Everything in the whole world stopped. I tried to think about anything but how awesome it was that she had her arms around me, but she was crazy soft, and she smelled like welding, and I wanted to remember everything about that second forever.

When she stepped back, I said, “Um, I’m going to see if I can find a cemetery to cultivate for a while, then head back to the hotel. You want to come?”

“The bazaar doesn’t shut down for another hour,” she said, glancing up at the overpasses blocking out the sky. “I’m going to stick around for a while. See you back at the hotel?”

I nodded. “Have fun doing metal nerd stuff.”

She grinned. “Have fun doing death nerd stuff.”

According to the hyperweb, Jade City, like most of the larger cities on Van Diemann, didn’t have a cemetery within city limits. Because of the rapid growth the planet experienced as soon as the Confederated Planetary Authority started using it as a criminal dumping ground, most of the major settlements had been forced to take out their old cemeteries for expansion. The bones that came from the old graveyards had been used to build ossuaries belowground, which eventually became train stations like the one we’d come into the city through. Nowadays, the page said, most cities left a corpse for a year out in the wastes, then brought in whatever was left and added it to the subway architecture.

I followed the map to the ossuary closest to me, trying not to stare up at the mechanical dragonflies spying on me and everybody else as I went. Down in the station, I found a spot in the corner where I wouldn’t get stepped on. It wasn’t quite as busy there as the first station, maybe because outsiders weren’t flooding into the city through it. Everyone who stepped off the train seemed like they knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing. They didn’t even look up at the bones.

Which was a shame, because the place was beautiful. There’s something about meticulously lined patterns that really appeals to my eyes. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the texture all those lines imply, like you could run your hands over them in a neverending series of ridges.

I stared up at the millions of femurs and tibias and fibulas, humeri, radii and ulnas, and breathed in the Death Spirit. Miasma filled the station like steam in a sauna. I pulled it into my Spirit sea, keeping a little cycling through my tissues and organs to maintain internal alchemy, while Hungry Ghost sucked more than his fair share of the turquoise smoke into my pocket.

After a while, I realized this hulking catfish guy in a pinstriped suit had been there for a few trainloads in a row. He leaned against the wall at the end of the platform, watching