Page 96 of As Above, So Below

My lips work into a fine line.

“Last I knew, there were around six thousand city guard and two thousand royal guard posted in Ollora.” Her eyes narrow as she recalls the detail. “But it’s been near a decade since I left the guild, so those numbers could very easily be different now.”

I have to admit, Eve’s history intrigues me.

What kind of life does a member of a thieving guild lead?

“You don’t live that life anymore, Eve,” Cora says with a soft smile and gives her a quick kiss. “It doesn’t matter how many guard there are.”

Eve huffs a small resigned laugh as she turns her head forward. “You’re right.”

My brows raise slightly. Eve misses it. She misses the life she had then. Service to Celesta isn’t what she would have chosen for herself if given the opportunity. She made that much clear in her lack of reverence for the goddess.

“What is it you need out here, Cora?” I ask, wanting to shift the subject and tone of the conversation.

We walk past several stalls and booths displaying an assortment of herbs, polished stones and gems, woven baskets, and jars of pickled goods.

“Valerian root and snakeroot,” Cora answers. “Artemise has requested them to help with insomnia.”

“Don’t bother stopping at any of the vendors here,” Eve warns with a roll of her eyes. “Cora has a preferred shop a couple blocks over.”

“They carry everything!” Cora laughs, bumping her shoulder into Eve’s playfully. “It makes it easy.”

“It gives me a headache,” Eve shoots back in a grumble.

“You’re welcome to wait outside with Ves,” Cora chides, arching a brow.

A stream of fire jets above the crowd a half a block away, and a congregation of people begin to clap and cheer. A dark-haired, sun-kissed male stands on a small platform. Another bloom of fire takes to the skies from his fingertips.

The flame shifts, becoming the shape of an eagle, and it soars over the heads of the crowd.

My eyes narrow as I watch.

How?

As the eagle moves, blue-silver glimmering runes become apparent in the sunlight.

Old magic.

He’s using old magic to create shaped wards to contain his innate. I’ve never seen such an entwined use of innate and old magic. I stare in awe as the creation flies overhead before vanishing. I’ve only used old magic as a means to create light or defensive wards, never something so beautiful.

“Who is that? And what is he doing?” I ask, peering through the space between Cora and Eve’s shoulders.

They follow my stare.

“Oh, that’s an innate painter,” Cora chimes vibrantly. “You’ll see them all around Ollora putting on shows in popular market places like this.”

“Many do it to earn gold,” Eve adds.

“Mortals are paid to demonstrate their innate?” I ask, confused.

“No,” Cora laughs with a toss of her head. “People in the crowd will give money to innate painters as a way to say thank you for the entertainment.”

“It’s not steady work, but it’s one way to earn a living,” Eve quips with a chuckle.

Wedging myself around Cora and Eve, my feet carry me closer to the sea of heads and raised hoods. Shouldering my way through the crowd without reservation, I find a place to stand among those in the front, eager to witness his next creation.

Focused on his hands, I watch as his fingers crook and bend rapidly, casting the runes to summon the ward. Too many runes cast too quickly for me to fully decipher, and the ones I can read are unfamiliar.