Read Online Lesson of the Fire by Eric Zawadzki - Free Book Online Page A

an eyebrow and hunched his
shoulders. “More fabrications?”
    “How much do you remember about your first
days at Nightfire’s Academy?”
    Sven glared at the man. “How would you know
any of that? How could you know anything about me?”
    The Traveller spread his hands, sitting
straighter. “Stories of you, Mardux, have spread, in one fashion or
the other, throughout Marrishland. I consider it a trifle if I hear
these stories and pass them along. There are huge chunks of your
life unopened to me. Maybe I can hear these words from your own
lips, or you will let me talk to those nearest you.
    “This tale, however, I can trace to the
slave who heard from the mundane who heard from the mapmaker who
heard from the wizard who heard from the apprentice who heard from
another slave who came to Nightfire’s Academy soon before you did.
Their names are unimportant. Surely you are versed in the strong
Mar oral tradition? I find it fascinating, myself.”
    Einar did, too. He watched Sven to see if
the Mardux would prefer this conversation to be private, and he
rubbed his thumb over his belt absently. Sven appeared nervous
about something, but the only threat was of a story. Einar
waited.
    Sven seemed to digest this. “Why would I
want to hear any more about a life I have already lived? Despite
your words, I do not forget as easily as others do.”
    Now the Traveller sat forward, his hands
gripping the chair. “Even great men cannot see themselves through
another’s eyes.”
    Sven’s green eyes searched the Traveller’s
blue ones. The Traveller began to speak, and Sven was drawn back
into his memories.
    * * *
    Sven pulled the black cloak around his naked
body to deter as many insects as he could as Nightfire led him
barefoot to a narrow gate in the palisade. He could almost feel the
konig worms burrowing into the soles of his feet as he walked
lightly across the soft, goddess-cursed ground.
    Nightfire’s a wizard. If he can heal me
after all that he just put me through, maybe he can protect me from
Dinah’s Curse, too.
    He touched his bald scalp gingerly but felt
no pain. The blisters on his hands and arms had vanished, too,
leaving him hairless but uninjured. Nightfire followed Sven’s
eyes.
    “You can bring nothing of your past life
into the place you are about to enter,” Nightfire said, voice heavy
with the repetition of a ritual. “The Sven Gematsud who left
Rustiford is dead. He is ashes as surely as your clothes and boots
are.”
    Sven looked at him with uncomprehending
eyes, trying to make sense of what Nightfire hoped to achieve. His
temper flared. “If slavery’s death, I’ll only stay dead for eight
years,” he snapped.
    The wizard smiled as if at a secret joke.
“Come, Sven. I will show you where you will be staying.”
    Nightfire, red cloak swirling around his
ankles, led Sven to a huge four-story building and opened one great
double door. They stepped into a room that could easily have housed
everyone Sven knew. A bonfire burned brightly in an immense hearth,
casting light and shadows in equal measure. A handful of Mar
without boots looked up at them in surprise from where they were
scrubbing the clean floors. Nightfire acknowledged them with a nod,
and they returned to their tasks.
    Perhaps Rustiford isn’t the only town in
Nightfire’s debt.
    Nightfire took a lantern
from a table and led Sven upstairs to a dark room. The room seemed
a closet compared to downstairs, but it was still as large as his
home in Rustiford. Not mine
anymore . But I
will go back, someday. The room had one
small window covered with sheer cloth to keep out insects, a sturdy
bed and a dresser. Sven stepped inside and looked
around.
    Such luxury for slaves’ quarters.
    “Dress, and then I will show you what to
do,” Nightfire said, leaving the lantern and closing the door
behind him.
    “But the konig worms!” Sven protested. The
wizard did not respond.
    Sven frowned deeply and wiped his feet off
as thoroughly as he could