Bloodwerk is a skill mastered only by Embers. The power bestowed by the God Anyme is what makes Ember blood superior. This book documents the four foundational runes of Ba, Ru, Kha, and Gi, as well as the hundred and fifteen supplementary runes that can alter the purpose, direction, and nature of the bloodwerk.
—Introduction to the Book of Blood
Sylah ran up the stairs, the basket bashing against her hip with each step. She was almost breathless by the time she reached Anoor’s chambers.
Dinner had already been served. A cold plate of greens and chicken sat on the corner of the counter in the hall. She felt queasy just looking at it. The nausea brought on by her body’s detoxification from the joba seeds still came in waves. She fingered the seed in her pocket.
Anoor’s bedroom door opened a crack. Her red-rimmed eyes widened at Sylah’s presence.
“You came back!” She ran at Sylah and wrapped her in a hug.
“Get off! You’re crushing all the wares I spent the day collecting.”
“But the market closed strikes ago, I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“I had some personal things to attend to,” Sylah said.
“Personal things?” Of course Gorn just had to appear right then and there. Her shaved gray hair was so fine it made the veins at her temple seem even more pronounced.
“Yes, I had to send a letter to my uncle—”
“Uncle Gallo.” Anoor nodded deeply.
“We have a duty office here; they would have sent your letter via the duty chutes,” said Gorn.
“Well, I had to write it first, and I suppose I thought I should get to know the city.” Sylah sighed dramatically. “But I’m afraid I got a little lost.”
Gorn opened her mouth to question her poor show further, but Anoor cut her off.
“Gorn, would you mind putting away Sylah’s purchases? I need her help with my homework.”
Sylah held out the basket and smiled lightly.
Gorn took it and turned away, her shoulders rigid.
“I really thought you weren’t coming back.” Anoor shut the door behind them. She was in her loose training clothes: black cotton pantaloons, flexible leather shoes, and fingerless gloves to protect her knuckles. Sweat glazed her brow.
“You were training?”
“Yes.” Her smile was infectious, like a virus Sylah didn’t want to catch, though she felt the corners of her lips lift.
“Show me.”
Two strikes later Sylah was still refining Anoor’s basic Dambe arm stances.
“Okay, okay, enough. Time to bloodwerk.” Anoor waved Sylah’s hands away from her waist where they had been desperately trying to get her muscles to suck in, suck in.
“Guess what?” Sylah walked over to her disregarded coat.
“What?” Sylah pulled out her inkwell and stylus.
“You got one!” Anoor clapped her hands and reached for it.
“It’s very pretty, where did you get it?”
“A friend helped me.”
“A friend? Are they an assassin too?”