Read Online Magisterium by Jeff Hirsch - Free Book Online Page B

aside. The only thing that mattered now was Kevin. She nodded stiffly and Aamon rolled Kevin into her waiting arms. He was still unconscious and seemed to weigh little more than a puff of air. Only a hint of a pulse fluttered at his throat.
    “Do what I tell you and say nothing,” Aamon instructed. “Do you understand? Outsiders are not welcome here.”
    Glenn drew Kevin close but before they had taken more than a few steps a bell began to toll deep within the compound. In between the tones, Glenn could hear people moving inside. Shadows leapt into the guardhouses with a clank of metal.
    “No farther,” a voice boomed, followed by what sounded like ropes being stretched taut in each watchtower. Small metallic points glinted in the firelight.
    Bows and arrows , Glenn thought, with an almost giddy edge.
    They’re pointing bows and arrows at us.
    “I said no farther, stranger, or we’ll drop you where you stand.”
    Aamon didn’t check his stride. Every step brought him closer to the ring of firelight around the village. There was a leather creak as bowstrings were pulled farther back. Aamon was less than a yard from the halo of light now and wasn’t slowing.

“Archers!” the man called out, readying them.
    “Stop!” Glenn shouted.
    But Aamon didn’t stop, not until he was standing fully in the light. Everything went still. Aamon’s bluish-gray fur shone in the fires’
    glow. His clawed hands were clasped behind his back, and his head was slightly down as if he was waiting patiently for a visit from the welcoming committee.
    There was activity behind the walls, jostling bodies and panicked voices followed by what sounded like a lock being thrown and a long creak as the front gate swung open. An old man came hurrying out of the village gate. Every step seemed a prelude to his tripping over the fluttering ends of his dark robes and sprawling out into the grass.
    When he reached them the man crumpled to his knees before
    Aamon. His bald head, fringed in white, fell and his open palms spread out on the ground next to him.
    “Aamon Marta,” the man stuttered. “Please forgive us. It’s been so long. I am Decker Calloway. We thought you had gone. We … we all are pleased at your return. We’ll send an emissary to the Magistra right away. I —”
    “No,” Aamon snapped. “Stand up.” Calloway trembled but didn’t rise. “I said stand up!”
    Aamon’s voice was a clap of thunder. Calloway flinched, then did as he was told, his body shaking, his eyes on the ground.
    “I have an injured human,” Aamon said. “He needs attention.”
    Calloway glanced nervously at Glenn and Kevin. His eyes moved over Kevin’s green hair and leather jacket. Glenn stepped back, drawing Kevin closer to her.
    “They are returning spies,” Aamon said quietly. “Sent across the border by the Magistra. Is Calle Frit still doctor here?”
    “Pardon me, sir, but no. His son is, though he is out with the regent at the moment.”
    “Who is the current regent?”
    “Sir, it is Garen Tom.”
    A sound rose in Aamon’s throat like an idling engine. Calloway tensed as he clearly fought the urge to flee.
    “Is he near?” Aamon asked.
    “No, sir. He is out near White Oak, hunting a Farrickite traitor.
    We could send word —”
    “No. Prepare his quarters for us and bring me the doctor’s spare instruments. We also require food and drink.”
    “Of course, sir.” Calloway leapt to his feet and backed away from Aamon, head down, not turning his back until he was some distance away.
    Glenn followed Aamon through the gates, studying the wall as they drew closer. In the spill of the firelight, she saw that the spaces between the logs were filled with a mix of mud and hay. High up in the towers, the eyes of the guards, framed in tarnished armor, watched them pass.
    Glenn stepped through the gateway and onto a dirt road that led through the center of town. As soon as she did she clutched Kevin tight and had to stifle a gasp.
    The