Read Online Beneath the Thirteen Moons by Kathryne Kennedy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryne Kennedy
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water and propelled her boat through the clogged channel, wondering about how much easier it seemed, the Power in her system barely tapped by the Seeing.
When they emerged from the flower-tunnel the channel narrowed; the now unhindered rain flooded the half of her boat not protected by the tent. Mahri bailed, continued to Push the current, and sang the bawdiest chanty she knew. The downpour shrank to a light mist and as she reached for the pouch again a pale head emerged from the tent.
“Food,” the prince demanded. “Water.”
She had Jaja fetch her journey sack while she reached for more root, stilled when he spoke again. “Another of the dangers from zabba is that it kills your appetite—and eventually you. From starvation. Eat, Mahri.”
So they sat together and ate by the glow of the moons, and drank fresh rainwater from the buckets attached to the boat for that purpose.
“That’s the second time,” she said, noting the damp and tattered condition of his clothes, “that you’ve rescued my monk-fish. You don’t need him to get home. So why’d you do it?”
Korl frowned, his face all soft angles in the moonlight, and answered without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I?”
And Mahri knew then that he was a dangerous man, that she’d have to be very careful. He was of that rare breed that not only seduced the body, but also the heart.
Chapter 5
M AHRI CONTINUED TO S EE INTO THE CURRENT AT occasional intervals, to nudge it along, make sure they followed the water’s path and protect her boat from any obstructions. Before the coma, that would’ve taken all of her concentration, and she tried not to wonder at her capacity for the Power now.
She’d never heard of anyone surviving a zabba-wrought coma, although many had taken the root to their death. Some were more immune than others, Wildings like herself, and of course the Royals—that carefully cultivated line of heredity. Most had such a low tolerance level that they could See into the nature of things but not Push or Alter them; some could do small magics, and most would die from even the smallest piece of zabba. So, as Korl would say, what made her so special?
Cool rain misted her face and the interlaced branches above cleared to give her an unobstructed view of the evening sky. Stars glittered like morning dew around the moons, small and bright.
Could her dream have had some truth? Did her people come from the sky and settle on this planet like tribal wanderers? And if so, where had her ancestors come from—those twinkling lights or even the moons? How powerful they must’ve been to fly from place to place!
The branches crowded together again and ended her stargazing. She could hear Korl’s gentle snores with anoccasional nasal squeak from Jaja within the tent, the rolling of the water, and the constantly changing song of the forest.
Mahri knew this to be her reality—how it had come to be didn’t matter. Yet, why would she dream such a thing? And if it wasn’t a dream… could the natives have helped her to survive the overdose so that she’d help this prince to rule? And why her—and forget about being the other half of someone’s soul. That had to be nonsense.
Mahri groaned aloud. Her head ached from all this thinking, stupid really, since she didn’t have any answers for anything that had happened to her since she’d kidnapped a prince from his bed. Like why a sensible woman like herself could act so ridiculous over a handsome man. She’d never acted this way around Vissa. He was undeniably attractive; a prosperous tavern keeper who had a charmingly crooked smile and tempting rakish eyes. Mahri acknowledged his appeal, might even have felt herself tempted once or twice, but had never succumbed to his single-minded pursuit of her. She was too level-headed, too independent. She didn’t want to be tied to anyone ever again.
Mahri’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she Sensed deep water below. She didn’t like what had come
When they emerged from the flower-tunnel the channel narrowed; the now unhindered rain flooded the half of her boat not protected by the tent. Mahri bailed, continued to Push the current, and sang the bawdiest chanty she knew. The downpour shrank to a light mist and as she reached for the pouch again a pale head emerged from the tent.
“Food,” the prince demanded. “Water.”
She had Jaja fetch her journey sack while she reached for more root, stilled when he spoke again. “Another of the dangers from zabba is that it kills your appetite—and eventually you. From starvation. Eat, Mahri.”
So they sat together and ate by the glow of the moons, and drank fresh rainwater from the buckets attached to the boat for that purpose.
“That’s the second time,” she said, noting the damp and tattered condition of his clothes, “that you’ve rescued my monk-fish. You don’t need him to get home. So why’d you do it?”
Korl frowned, his face all soft angles in the moonlight, and answered without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I?”
And Mahri knew then that he was a dangerous man, that she’d have to be very careful. He was of that rare breed that not only seduced the body, but also the heart.
Chapter 5
M AHRI CONTINUED TO S EE INTO THE CURRENT AT occasional intervals, to nudge it along, make sure they followed the water’s path and protect her boat from any obstructions. Before the coma, that would’ve taken all of her concentration, and she tried not to wonder at her capacity for the Power now.
She’d never heard of anyone surviving a zabba-wrought coma, although many had taken the root to their death. Some were more immune than others, Wildings like herself, and of course the Royals—that carefully cultivated line of heredity. Most had such a low tolerance level that they could See into the nature of things but not Push or Alter them; some could do small magics, and most would die from even the smallest piece of zabba. So, as Korl would say, what made her so special?
Cool rain misted her face and the interlaced branches above cleared to give her an unobstructed view of the evening sky. Stars glittered like morning dew around the moons, small and bright.
Could her dream have had some truth? Did her people come from the sky and settle on this planet like tribal wanderers? And if so, where had her ancestors come from—those twinkling lights or even the moons? How powerful they must’ve been to fly from place to place!
The branches crowded together again and ended her stargazing. She could hear Korl’s gentle snores with anoccasional nasal squeak from Jaja within the tent, the rolling of the water, and the constantly changing song of the forest.
Mahri knew this to be her reality—how it had come to be didn’t matter. Yet, why would she dream such a thing? And if it wasn’t a dream… could the natives have helped her to survive the overdose so that she’d help this prince to rule? And why her—and forget about being the other half of someone’s soul. That had to be nonsense.
Mahri groaned aloud. Her head ached from all this thinking, stupid really, since she didn’t have any answers for anything that had happened to her since she’d kidnapped a prince from his bed. Like why a sensible woman like herself could act so ridiculous over a handsome man. She’d never acted this way around Vissa. He was undeniably attractive; a prosperous tavern keeper who had a charmingly crooked smile and tempting rakish eyes. Mahri acknowledged his appeal, might even have felt herself tempted once or twice, but had never succumbed to his single-minded pursuit of her. She was too level-headed, too independent. She didn’t want to be tied to anyone ever again.
Mahri’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she Sensed deep water below. She didn’t like what had come
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