Read Online Ever by Gail Carson Levine - Free Book Online Page A

young man waves to him from shoulder-high stacks of baskets.
    â€œGo,” I say. “I’ll find you when I’m finished.”
    Pazur nods and is off.
    Someone is shaking timbrels. Someone taps a drum. Stepping high, almost dancing, I follow the sound.
    Chickens flap in their cages. The turtle woman stands by her wide bowl of turtles. Half a dozen men stand at the beer vat, paying their coins for pulls at the straw. Children cluster nearby, waiting their turn at the plum-juice vat.
    The musicians are playing next to a market cook, who is grilling goat meat on an open brazier. Poor musicians. Several people are eating the cook’s wares, but no one is listening to the music. The musicians’ coin cup is empty, and no wonder. Their rhythm isn’t interesting, although they gesture as the masters do. The drummer leans over her drum and shakes her hair. The timbrel shaker squeezes his eyes shut in concentration. He raises his arms and sways. The fringes of his shawl skim close to the cooking meat.
    Out of pity I put a coin in the cup and step side to side along with the simple beat. Something bumps into mytoe. A ball of yellow wool! I bend over. Although the ground is level, the ball rolls away, trailing a strand.
    My heart pat-pat s again. I follow the strand.

25

    OLUS
    M Y GROUND BREEZE rolls the ball of wool toward me. Kezi follows. Outfitted as a wool peddler with a deep basket of yarn, I wait outside the city gate.
    The wooden gate doors have been pushed inward because the city is open. Facing outward to the right and left of the gate are twin colossi, enormous stone lions with bearded human heads. I stand under the beard of the right-hand lion.
    My scheme had been to peddle my wool down Kezi’sstreet, but when I saw her making her way to the market, I came here.
    The ball of wool unwinds past the furniture makers, the sellers of remedies, the scribes for hire. Then it veers left, away from the stalls, beyond the water trough for the merchants’ donkeys and camels, and down the deserted final stretch of the King’s Road. When the yarn rolls through the gate, Kezi hesitates.
    I send the wool back to her and dismiss my ground breeze. If she fears leaving the city, she can take the yarn and go. I’ll find another way to speak to her. I don’t want to frighten her again.
    She picks up the wool and rolls the strand onto the ball. The yarn is speckled with gold. She scratches a speck with her fingernail. I performed the same test myself. The gold won’t come off.
    â€œOlus?” She rounds the lion’s huge paw.
    She knew it was me! “Greetings, Kezi.” I put my fist to my forehead.
    She bows her head. “Greetings, Olus.”
    We stand awkwardly, smiling but not speaking. Now that we’re together I have no idea how to start. I say, “Er . . .”
    She says, “Um . . .”
    We laugh.
    I collect myself. “You’re looking for something in the market?” This isn’t what I want to say.
    She holds up the yarn and laughs. “Wool.” Her eyes go to the wool in my basket. “Does the wool come from your goats? Do they have gold in their coats?”
    I shake my head. “The wool is from Akka.” I take a knife from the pouch at my waist and cut lengths from a few balls of yarn. “Here.” I give them to her, samples of Enshi Rock’s finest.
    â€œThank you.” She arranges the strands in her palm.
    â€œKezi . . .” I may never have another chance to be alone with her. “Kezi, I know about your pado’s oath. I know you’re to be sacrificed.”
    To my astonishment, she nods. “Admat sent—”
    Screams come from the market.

26

    KEZI
    S MOKE RISES ABOVE the gate lion’s head. Olus drops his wool basket. He grasps my arm and we run toward the market.
    A stiff wind hurries us along. I fear that the wind will fan the flames, but it dies when we get close. We race