22
Blue Fire and Black Rage
A week after he and Amlinn arrived in Divpaxis, Petra crouched behind Denthold in the low tunnel that ran fore and aft, between ranks of firejars, through the belly of the giant war-wagon the Heretic had named Liberator. Holding a lightwand between his teeth, Denthold was using a fine brush to paint a silver sigil on the strange box of gears and cables that drove the rear axle of the giant six-wheeled wagon. Petra couldn’t clearly see his handiwork, though: his only clear view of Denthold at the moment was of the man’s fine-clad buttocks.
Petra had not seen Amlinn since they’d been separated. He spent every minute he was not with Denthold locked in a cell in the old city guard barracks. He knew Amlinn was working in the kitchen of the Duke’s old house. He fan
