Read Red Seas Under Red Skies for Free Online

more of his alcoholic haze, as they made their way down and across the Golden Steps, north by northeast to the Great Gallery. The Eldren craftsmen (Craftswomen? Crafts- things ?) responsible for Tal Verrar had covered the entire district with an open-sided Elderglass roof that sloped downward from its peak atop the sixth tier and plunged into the sea at the western island’s base, leaving at least thirty feet of space beneath it at all points in between. Strange twisted glass columns rose up at irregular intervals, looking like leafless climbing vines carved from ice. The glass ceiling of the Gallery was easily a thousand yards from end to end the long way.
    Beyond the Great Gallery, on the lower layers of the island, was the Portable Quarter—open-faced tiers on which the miserably destitute were allowed to set up squatters’ huts and whatever shelters they could construct from castoff materials. The trouble was that any forceful wind from the north, especially in the rainy winter, would completely rearrange the place.
    Perversely, the district above and immediately southeast of the Portable Quarter, the Savrola, was a pricey expatriate’s enclave, full of foreigners with money to waste. All the best inns were there, including the one Locke and Jean were currently using for their well-heeled alternate identities. The Savrola was sealed off from the Portable Quarter by high stone walls, and heavily patrolled by Verrari constables and private mercenaries.
    By day, the Great Gallery was the marketplace of Tal Verrar. A thousand merchants set up their stalls beneath it every morning, and there was room for five thousand more, should the city ever grow so vast. Visitors rooming in the Savrola who didn’t travel by boat were forced, by cunning coincidence, to walk across the full breadth of the market to travel to or from the Golden Steps.
    An east wind was up, blowing out from the mainland, across the glass islands and into the Gallery. Locke and Jean’s footsteps echoed in the darkness of the vast hollow space; soft lamps on some of the glass pillars made irregular islands of light. Scraps of trash blew past their feet, and wisps of wood smoke from unseen fires. Some merchants kept family members sleeping in particularly desirable stall locations all night…and of course there were always vagrants from the Portable Quarter, seeking privacy in the shadows of the empty Gallery. Patrols stomped through the Gallery tiers several times each night, but there were none in sight at the moment.
    “What a strange wasteland this place becomes after dark,” said Jean. “I can’t decide if I mislike it or if it enchants me.”
    “You’d probably be less inclined to enchantment if you didn’t have a pair of hatchets stuffed up the back of your coat.”
    “Mmm.”
    They walked on for another few minutes. Locke rubbed his stomach and muttered to himself.
    “Jean—are you hungry, by chance?”
    “I usually am. Need some more ballast for that liquor?”
    “I think it might be a good idea. Damn that carousel. Another losing hand and I might have proposed marriage to that gods-damned smoking dragoness. Or just fallen out of my chair.”
    “Well, let’s raid the Night Market.”
    On the topmost tier of the Great Gallery, toward the northeastern end of the covered district, Locke could see the flickering light of barrel fires and lanterns, and the shadowy shapes of several people. Commerce never truly ground to a halt in Tal Verrar; with thousands of people coming and going from the Golden Steps, there was enough coin floating around for a few dozen nocturnal stall-keepers to stake out a spot just after sunset every evening. The Night Market could be a great convenience, and it was invariably more eccentric than its daytime counterpart.
    As Locke and Jean strolled toward the bazaar with the night breeze blowing against them, they had a fine view of the inner harbor with its dark forest of ships’ masts. Beyond that, the rest of