Read Online A Painted Goddess by Victor Gischler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victor Gischler
Ads: Link
is.”
“Of course, your grace.”
The old death priest’s words echoed in her mind. The southern path pays a debt .
Rina still wasn’t sure what that meant. She didn’t know what waited for her in the south, but she could guess it involved danger on top of danger. For herself and anyone around her.
“I won’t think ill of you if you want to return to Klaar,” Rina said. “You’ve done your part.”
“With respect, your grace, serving you is only a small part of my consideration,” Hark said. “I sense that we’re living through a critical turning point of history, and the best view of it will be near you. If I’m to have some hand in it, if I can help in some way, then I think coming with you is most likely how that will happen.” He shrugged. “A wizard threw lightning at me, and by Dumo’s will I survived. I think I’m meant to go on.”
Rina smiled. “Good. Truth is I didn’t really like the idea of going by myself.”
They mounted and galloped the road south until they came to the small town Rina had seen through the falcon’s eyes. They refilled their water skins from the town well and stocked up on food in an open-air market. Rina noticed the prices were significantly higher than she’d expected, and few of the vendors responded to her haggling. She remarked on this to a man selling turnips.
“The refugees, milady,” said the man selling turnips. “They come through in waves, buying up everything in sight. It drives the prices up.”
“Refugees?”
“From Sherrik,” he said.
That didn’t sound encouraging.
Hark munched an apple as they rode out of town. It looked like the color had come back into his face. When Rina had thrown the man unconscious over his own horse, she hadn’t been confident he would make it.
An hour later, they met the first group of refugees.
About two score of them, looking bedraggled and hollow eyed, men with young children on their backs, all carrying their worldly possessions in bundles and baskets.
“Brother,” Bishop Hark hailed one of the men. “What word?”
The man looked up, blinked at the bishop as if coming out of a daze. His clothes marked him as possibly some upper-class merchant, but he trudged through the mud with everyone else. “Me? Are you talking to me?”
“Indeed, my good man,” the bishop said. “What news from the south?”
“Sherrik is sealed,” he said. “Anyone inside is going to stay there. Anyone outside isn’t getting in. The Perranese fleet is on the way, might be there already.” He slogged on, shaking his head and muttering defeat.
Hark turned to Rina. “Now what?”
“We keep going,” she said. “And when we get to Sherrik, we knock on the front gate and ask to be let in. I’m told I can be very persuasive.”
CHAPTER TEN
The rough cavern walls gave way to carved stone. The floor smooth and even. They walked a wide hallway, the ceiling stretching high above them into the darkness.
“What is this place?” Maurizan asked.
“The hall of the ancient wizards,” said the Fish Man.
That caught Maurizan’s attention. Had she come as far as the place marked on her map? If her mother were right, then there were secrets of ink magic somewhere in the depths of this place . . . if they’d survived the centuries.
They were coming to a T intersection, and from around the corner Maurizan saw the flickering of firelight casting jagged shadows and heard echoing voices.
Maurizan slowed her walk. “Who’s down here?”
“The Moogari,” Kristos said.
“Why do they want to see me?”
“Maybe they don’t,” he said. “But you want to see them.”
“Do I?”
“Your map,” Kristos said. “The Moogari are the ones you want to see even if you don’t know it.”
“Who are the Moogari?” She was still worried they might be cannibals. According to Miko, there was apparently a cannibal behind every palm tree on the Scattered Isles.
“They belong to this place,” Kristos said. “They are
“Of course, your grace.”
The old death priest’s words echoed in her mind. The southern path pays a debt .
Rina still wasn’t sure what that meant. She didn’t know what waited for her in the south, but she could guess it involved danger on top of danger. For herself and anyone around her.
“I won’t think ill of you if you want to return to Klaar,” Rina said. “You’ve done your part.”
“With respect, your grace, serving you is only a small part of my consideration,” Hark said. “I sense that we’re living through a critical turning point of history, and the best view of it will be near you. If I’m to have some hand in it, if I can help in some way, then I think coming with you is most likely how that will happen.” He shrugged. “A wizard threw lightning at me, and by Dumo’s will I survived. I think I’m meant to go on.”
Rina smiled. “Good. Truth is I didn’t really like the idea of going by myself.”
They mounted and galloped the road south until they came to the small town Rina had seen through the falcon’s eyes. They refilled their water skins from the town well and stocked up on food in an open-air market. Rina noticed the prices were significantly higher than she’d expected, and few of the vendors responded to her haggling. She remarked on this to a man selling turnips.
“The refugees, milady,” said the man selling turnips. “They come through in waves, buying up everything in sight. It drives the prices up.”
“Refugees?”
“From Sherrik,” he said.
That didn’t sound encouraging.
Hark munched an apple as they rode out of town. It looked like the color had come back into his face. When Rina had thrown the man unconscious over his own horse, she hadn’t been confident he would make it.
An hour later, they met the first group of refugees.
About two score of them, looking bedraggled and hollow eyed, men with young children on their backs, all carrying their worldly possessions in bundles and baskets.
“Brother,” Bishop Hark hailed one of the men. “What word?”
The man looked up, blinked at the bishop as if coming out of a daze. His clothes marked him as possibly some upper-class merchant, but he trudged through the mud with everyone else. “Me? Are you talking to me?”
“Indeed, my good man,” the bishop said. “What news from the south?”
“Sherrik is sealed,” he said. “Anyone inside is going to stay there. Anyone outside isn’t getting in. The Perranese fleet is on the way, might be there already.” He slogged on, shaking his head and muttering defeat.
Hark turned to Rina. “Now what?”
“We keep going,” she said. “And when we get to Sherrik, we knock on the front gate and ask to be let in. I’m told I can be very persuasive.”
CHAPTER TEN
The rough cavern walls gave way to carved stone. The floor smooth and even. They walked a wide hallway, the ceiling stretching high above them into the darkness.
“What is this place?” Maurizan asked.
“The hall of the ancient wizards,” said the Fish Man.
That caught Maurizan’s attention. Had she come as far as the place marked on her map? If her mother were right, then there were secrets of ink magic somewhere in the depths of this place . . . if they’d survived the centuries.
They were coming to a T intersection, and from around the corner Maurizan saw the flickering of firelight casting jagged shadows and heard echoing voices.
Maurizan slowed her walk. “Who’s down here?”
“The Moogari,” Kristos said.
“Why do they want to see me?”
“Maybe they don’t,” he said. “But you want to see them.”
“Do I?”
“Your map,” Kristos said. “The Moogari are the ones you want to see even if you don’t know it.”
“Who are the Moogari?” She was still worried they might be cannibals. According to Miko, there was apparently a cannibal behind every palm tree on the Scattered Isles.
“They belong to this place,” Kristos said. “They are
Similar Books
