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A couple of the other stranded travelers had drifted his way. “What are they doing to repair the bridge?” one of them demanded.
The young man put his hands up in a gesture of ignorance, causing his gems to flash in the sunlight. His smile was disarming. “I don’t know. But there’s a whole committee trying to figure out what to do next.”
“What about the other bridges?” a woman asked. “Did they fall, too?”
“They don’t seem to be damaged, but they’re being checked out. No one is going in or out of the city just now.”
The woman groaned. “Then we’re stuck here for a while at least. I hope we don’t run out of water.”
The two of them turned away and were quickly replaced by two teenage boys, eager to talk to the city man. Jayla edged closer to listen.
“How’d you do that?” one of the boys demanded. “Walk across that rope like—like it was just something you’d do every day?”
The man laughed. “I’m courier in the city, so Idorun along the cables a lot,” he said.
The boys looked blank. “What cables?” one of them asked.
“There’s a gridway—a cable net that hangs over the whole city. It provides the power for all the light and all the transportation in Corcannon.”
“And you’re a courier?” the other one said. “What’s that?”
“I carry messages and packages. The faster the better. When traffic is slow or there’s no direct route from one place to another, sometimes I’ll run across the power net instead of along the streets.”
“And you never fall?”
“Haven’t so far.”
“Maybe I’d want to be a courier,” one of the boys said.
The city man held out his left wrist, where the bracelet was suitably dazzling. “It’s a good life.” He dropped his hand. “What are you coming to Corcannon for?”
One of the boys shook his head. “Our dad died. Our mom’s got folks here. She’ll be looking for work. I guess we all will.”
A little nervously the other boy said, “We’ve never been out of Chibain before.”
“Well, I’ve never been out of the city,” the courier answered. “Never saw a reason to leave.”
Before the boys could ask more questions, a woman’s voice called to them above the ongoing murmur of the crowd. Without a word of farewell, they spun on their heels and darted off.
The city man watched them for a few seconds, then pivoted directly toward Jayla and smiled. She disciplined an instinctive desire to step backward, out of his line of sight. She hadn’t realized he’d even known she was there.
“And what about you?” he asked. “Why are you coming to the city?”
She came nearer, since she didn’t feel like shouting. This close, she could see the color of his eyes, a clear blue almost as bright as the gems in his bracelet. “Like everyone else,” she said. “Looking for work.”
Making no attempt to be subtle about it, he dropped his eyes to check out the bands on both her wrists. “Soldier?” he asked, glancing up at her again. He didn’t comment on her other bracelet, plain silver edged with a thin line of gold. A woman who preferred men.
“That’s right,” she said.
Now he gave her a more thorough inspection, as if noting her practical clothing, her soft leather boots, her visible weapons. Maybe assessing her strength and skill, though she wouldn’t think a courier would be particularly good at making such judgments. “Doesn’t seem like an easy life,” was all he said.
A small smile came to her lips. “I haven’t noticed too many lives thatareeasy,” she replied.
He laughed. “Well, that’s the truth of it. Maybe life is easy for rich folk, but I know a couple of those, and they have troubles of their own.”
“I’ve worked for a few,” she said. “And I agree.”
“Where are you from? By your looks I’d say Oraki, but your accent is more southern Marata.”
