Read Online Fires of the Desert (Children of the Desert Book 4) by Leona Wisoker - Free Book Online Page A

place. And yet...there was a presence that shouldn’t be here, a tickling sense of being watched that chilled Tank like an ice-water bath.
    “Tank,” Dasin said sharply from near at hand.
    Tank turned back to find Dasin staring at him with a deep, almost petulant frown. “Sorry. What?”
    “You haven’t heard a word, have you? I thought you were right behind me.” Dasin didn’t give Tank a chance to answer. “Over here—” He motioned impatiently, leading the way to a paying-table behind which stood a tall, lean man.
    The vendor’s blue-grey eyes watched their approach with keen interest. He was stooped from something other than age, long blond hair tied in a series of thin braids as a southerner might have done. A tattoo of a chain, links a bright mixture of orange and blue shades, wound from his left wrist around his wiry arm, disappearing under the loose sleeve of his grey shirt.
    “Merchant Lohim,” Dasin said, his irritation smoothing into politeness, “may I present one of my mercenary guards, Tank. He’ll be primarily responsible for the safety of my caravan.”
    Tank bit his lower lip, trying to think of how to get out of that misstatement without publicly embarrassing Dasin.
    Lohim rubbed his nose with a knuckle, his sharp gaze taking them both in. “What d’you know about transporting plants, then?” he inquired, doubt strong in his voice. “Mind you, it’s no hair off my neck if’n you lose the whole load, but I’m not inclined to cut prices for someone who won’t be back.”
    “Nothing at all,” Dasin admitted. “I was hoping to carry seeds and dry, not live plants.”
    “Tuh.” Lohim pursed his lips. “I’ve already got a carrier for that. What makes you think you’re a better deal for me?”
    The odd sense of presence returned, itching along Tank’s back. He found himself turning to scan the crowd around them, and missed Dasin’s reply. Still nothing. But the peculiar feeling was stronger this time, as though he’d almost seen something important—
    “Tank,” Dasin hissed a moment later, yanking at his sleeve sharply. Tank shook his head and returned to the negotiations. Lohim seemed more inclined to listen now, so Dasin had more than likely thrown Yuer’s name on the pile.
    “Through Sandsplit?” Lohim said, frowning and rattling his fingers on the board in front of him. “Mmnnhh. I’ve got a bit extra, something my other carrier didn’t have room for. I can let you have that for a discount—”
    “Tanavin,” someone said in Tank’s ear.
    Tank whipped around, one hand reaching for the sword he’d left behind at the Copper Kettle; even peace-bound, he’d been told, weaponry was frowned on in the market. He wished he’d risked the frowns, on seeing who stood behind him.
    Lord Eredion Sessin stood well out of arm’s reach, his arms folded together. He didn’t flinch at Tank’s quick startle.
    “No harm,” he said; and while his lips barely moved, the words seemed to emerge just by Tank’s ear.
    Tank planted his feet steady and glared, unwilling to back up.
    “Need to talk to you,” the Sessin lord said, again pitching his voice to land on Tank’s shoulder. “Have a moment?”
    Tank glanced at Dasin. The blond was deep in conversation with Lohim, and hadn’t even noticed Tank’s sudden movement.
    “One,” he said grudgingly, coming forward a few steps.
    “Something of a crisis going on,” Eredion said, his dark stare steady.
    Tank stood still, watching the lines shift on Eredion’s face. “Alyea?”
    “Not this time. But it’s just as serious.”
    “So?”
    “Need your help.”
    Tank started to shake his head. Eredion’s face tightened.
    “It’s only going to take an hour of your time, and then you can go back to your ordinary life. I’ll explain on the way—”
    “Can’t help you,” Tank said stubbornly, crossing his arms and lowering his head. The prospect of enduring someone else’s hell-memories, bringing them back from an abyss of