[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
in peace. She frowned. I don t know if that day will ever come.
Let s not worry about that day. He reached across her for the bread-and-fruit plate. Let s finish our
wedding.
They drank enough wine and fed each other enough food to stuff their stomachs and weight their eyelids
with drowsiness. Then they made love again, with a slow heat that gave them hours to find every inch of
bliss on each other s bodies.
Alanka fell asleep in their entangled embrace, feeling pure contentment for the first time she could
remember. Her Spirit and her beloved were with her at last. Tomorrow she would return to her mission,
with more power and strength than ever.
But tonight she would rest.
35
M arek walked behind Basha, his gaze on the pale gray stones beneath his feet. He barely noticed the
market crowd jostling around him. It was larger than usual on this holiday honoring some god who
existed only to make the temples rich. Two guards kept close to him. The short swords in their belts
squashed any thought of escape he might entertain.
He felt the midday sun sear the back of his neck, the lower part of which was bare. Basha wanted his
hair to grow long again. He wished for a knife to cut it short, though he was no longer sure if he d use it
to slice only his hair.
Nilik gurgled and cooed in the carriage pushed by Petrop. Basha laughed with delight. Demedor, you
love a crowd, just like your mother.
Marek s stomach felt another pang. He d eaten and slept little in the past several days. His body seemed
to rebel against itself, perhaps in retribution for the things it had done with Basha.
He saw her embroidered boots near his feet. She took his hand and pressed a coin into it.
Marek, fetch me one of those fried breads with the fruit on it. She scrutinized his face and clicked her
tongue. Get one for yourself, too. You look positively skeletal. People will talk. She looked at his
guards. Go with him.
The fried-bread line was endless. The treat was one he d always looked forward to at the midsummer
Fiddlers Festival in Velekos, but now his gut heaved at the thought of the sweet, oil-soaked flour.
While he waited, he explored his new powers. Fox had taken him under Her care, enhancing his hearing
and night vision, though his sense of smell was diminished from that of a Wolf. He wondered if he had the
second-phase Fox power of camouflage blending into his background by remaining motionless or if
he would start over in the first phase. None of his people had ever changed Spirits midlife.
He couldn t test his camouflage, since he was never alone, not even to bathe or piss. Basha said he was
so valuable, someone might try to steal or harm him. He wondered if she sensed that Marek posed the
greatest threat to his own life.
If it weren t for Fox, he would have found a way to die by now. Even his son wasn t enough to live for
anymore. As soon as Nilik reached the age when he could understand who his real father was, Marek
would be sent away or killed. Basha couldn t take the chance that he would tell his son of his identity. It
would ruin her experiment.
A Wolf would have chosen the noble route, to perish rather than betray his beloved Rhia, to put honor
before life. Fox had saved him, but for what?
A stone rolled near his feet. He glanced at it, then froze.
It was tied to a crow feather.
He lifted his head and looked behind him.
A young man stood in a vendor s stall across the street, perhaps twenty paces away. His dark brown
gaze bore into Marek, cutting through the air like a hurled dagger.
Arcas.
Marek turned back to the fried-bread stand to keep his guards from getting suspicious. His mind reeled.
Why was Arcas here, his old rival, the man who d once held a blade to Marek s throat for stealing
Rhia?
Marek pushed back his shoulders in a long stretch, feigning stiffness in his lower back. As he did, he let
his glance trip over the crowd, back to the stall.
Arcas was surrounded by wooden carvings. A sign read Custom Designs, from what Marek could tell.
The Spider looked at the other side of the street. Marek followed his gaze.
Basha.
His mind made the connection with a sudden spark.
Your order!
One of his guards jabbed him in the back. He turned to the fried-bread stall, where the vendor was
glaring at him. Hurry up, she snarled. There s people waiting.
He stepped forward and ordered as Basha had instructed, one for her and one for himself. His stomach [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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in peace. She frowned. I don t know if that day will ever come.
Let s not worry about that day. He reached across her for the bread-and-fruit plate. Let s finish our
wedding.
They drank enough wine and fed each other enough food to stuff their stomachs and weight their eyelids
with drowsiness. Then they made love again, with a slow heat that gave them hours to find every inch of
bliss on each other s bodies.
Alanka fell asleep in their entangled embrace, feeling pure contentment for the first time she could
remember. Her Spirit and her beloved were with her at last. Tomorrow she would return to her mission,
with more power and strength than ever.
But tonight she would rest.
35
M arek walked behind Basha, his gaze on the pale gray stones beneath his feet. He barely noticed the
market crowd jostling around him. It was larger than usual on this holiday honoring some god who
existed only to make the temples rich. Two guards kept close to him. The short swords in their belts
squashed any thought of escape he might entertain.
He felt the midday sun sear the back of his neck, the lower part of which was bare. Basha wanted his
hair to grow long again. He wished for a knife to cut it short, though he was no longer sure if he d use it
to slice only his hair.
Nilik gurgled and cooed in the carriage pushed by Petrop. Basha laughed with delight. Demedor, you
love a crowd, just like your mother.
Marek s stomach felt another pang. He d eaten and slept little in the past several days. His body seemed
to rebel against itself, perhaps in retribution for the things it had done with Basha.
He saw her embroidered boots near his feet. She took his hand and pressed a coin into it.
Marek, fetch me one of those fried breads with the fruit on it. She scrutinized his face and clicked her
tongue. Get one for yourself, too. You look positively skeletal. People will talk. She looked at his
guards. Go with him.
The fried-bread line was endless. The treat was one he d always looked forward to at the midsummer
Fiddlers Festival in Velekos, but now his gut heaved at the thought of the sweet, oil-soaked flour.
While he waited, he explored his new powers. Fox had taken him under Her care, enhancing his hearing
and night vision, though his sense of smell was diminished from that of a Wolf. He wondered if he had the
second-phase Fox power of camouflage blending into his background by remaining motionless or if
he would start over in the first phase. None of his people had ever changed Spirits midlife.
He couldn t test his camouflage, since he was never alone, not even to bathe or piss. Basha said he was
so valuable, someone might try to steal or harm him. He wondered if she sensed that Marek posed the
greatest threat to his own life.
If it weren t for Fox, he would have found a way to die by now. Even his son wasn t enough to live for
anymore. As soon as Nilik reached the age when he could understand who his real father was, Marek
would be sent away or killed. Basha couldn t take the chance that he would tell his son of his identity. It
would ruin her experiment.
A Wolf would have chosen the noble route, to perish rather than betray his beloved Rhia, to put honor
before life. Fox had saved him, but for what?
A stone rolled near his feet. He glanced at it, then froze.
It was tied to a crow feather.
He lifted his head and looked behind him.
A young man stood in a vendor s stall across the street, perhaps twenty paces away. His dark brown
gaze bore into Marek, cutting through the air like a hurled dagger.
Arcas.
Marek turned back to the fried-bread stand to keep his guards from getting suspicious. His mind reeled.
Why was Arcas here, his old rival, the man who d once held a blade to Marek s throat for stealing
Rhia?
Marek pushed back his shoulders in a long stretch, feigning stiffness in his lower back. As he did, he let
his glance trip over the crowd, back to the stall.
Arcas was surrounded by wooden carvings. A sign read Custom Designs, from what Marek could tell.
The Spider looked at the other side of the street. Marek followed his gaze.
Basha.
His mind made the connection with a sudden spark.
Your order!
One of his guards jabbed him in the back. He turned to the fried-bread stall, where the vendor was
glaring at him. Hurry up, she snarled. There s people waiting.
He stepped forward and ordered as Basha had instructed, one for her and one for himself. His stomach [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]