Breath of God.pdf

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breath of God
by Bruce R. Cordell
BRUCE R. CORDELL
Credits
Writer
Bruce R. Cordell
Editor
Susan Morris
Proofreader
Dennis Detwiller
Cover Artist
Lie Setiawan
Graphic Designer
Bear Weiter
© 2016 Monte Cook Games, LLC
CYPHER SYSTEM and its logo are trademarks of Monte
Cook Games, LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.
All Monte Cook Games characters and character names,
and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are trademarks of
Monte Cook Games, LLC.
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BREATH OF GOD
Breath of God
By Bruce R. Cordell
He trudged along in the dust, pausing occasionally and
adjusting the straps holding a massive book that rode
his back like some mute ungainly infant. The road was
deserted and bone-cold under the moon’s dreaming face.
Dim light from the pearly glow surrounding the moon’s
disk revealed dead trees, tumbled structures, and the
ruins of a failed civilization in all directions except ahead,
along the road.
Indignant trumpeting came from somewhere behind
him. He looked around. An elephant was catching up
to him, but was still far back along the dim track. The
swaying lanterns on the carriage fixed to the beast’s back
jolted with each step.
He shuffled to the road’s edge and took out his pipe.
Red light flared as he set matchstick to tobacco brick.
Smooth smoke gave him a moment’s peace from the
tome’s weight as he watched the plodding beast advance.
When the elephant finally drew even, it stopped with
a jingle of reins.
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BRUCE R. CORDELL
A craggy female face peered down at him from the
sedan chair surmounting the carriage. “Need a ride,
padi?”
“Padi? I’m no teacher. Call me Sabien.”
“My apologies. The book you bear . . .”
Sabien adjusted the straps, which were cutting into
his shoulders. “No. I do not instruct. But I’ll take that
ride.”
“Two stars,” said the elephant driver. “For that, I will
carry you all the way to Corso. Four stars, and you can
ride in the carriage. It’s warmer.” The driver’s smile was
ingratiating.
Sabien knocked the ashes from the bowl with a tap
on his boot heel. “No carriage. I’ll ride with you.” The
carriage driver let down a rope ladder, and Sabien joined
the woman on the sedan chair. He counted out two gold
coins into the driver’s gloved palm.
The driver pocketed her payment and twitched the
reins. The elephant heaved into motion. He unbuckled
the straps securing his burden, shrugged it around with
a relieved sigh, and took the book’s weight in his lap.
He leaned his head back against the cracked headrest,
closing his eyes. The elephant’s dry, faintly sweet odor
somehow made the chill air less biting.
“I’m Bolaz,” came the driver’s voice.
Sabien grunted, his eyes still closed. He hoped she
would recognize his desire for silence—
“Lone travelers on the road between Corso and
Somorrah are rare. Are you a trader?”
Sabien counted to three, then opened his eyes. “I
have an appointment that is long overdue.”
“Oh?” Bolaz’s attention flickered from Sabien to his
book.
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