Read Online Spinning Starlight by R.C. Lewis - Free Book Online Page A

if a bit darker, and he has the
same dark hair, but his features aren’t anything like mine. Sharper, more angular, including the shape of his eyes. His voice was that way, too, with an accent that somehow made the words
themselves sharper. Then I can’t see him as well, because he crouches at my side, blocking the light from his companion.
    “You just came out?” he asks.
    I nod. It has to be pretty obvious.
    “Not feeling too great then, eh? That’ll pass. I’m Tiav. What’s your name?”
    I think that’s the first time in my life anyone’s asked me my name. Even if I
could
talk, the newness of it might have held me speechless. When I don’t answer, his
eyes pass over me from head to toe, then return to study my face. His mouth sets in a flat line. “You’re from one of the Points, aren’t you?”
    Another nod. If he knows what the Points are, this isn’t so bad.
    The strange one makes a noise, but Tiav ignores him. “Which one?”
    Um, problem. That’s not a question I can answer with a nod or shake of my head.
    My silence doesn’t sit well with him. “Maybe my friend Kalkig was on the right track.”
    “It doesn’t matter which she’s from,” Kalkig says. At least, I think he does. His voice is made for the guttural language he used earlier. “We have to send her
back, Tiav—she shouldn’t be here. She
can’t
be here.”
    No, I can’t go back, not without helping my brothers, not back under Minali’s control, which will be even tighter with my attempted escape, knowing what she’s willing to do to
carry out her plan. The lives she’s willing to cut down. I shake my head emphatically, eyes wide.
    “Are you in trouble back there?” asks Tiav. Nod. “Then you need to tell us the truth.”
    I don’t know how to explain. I shake my head and point to my throat. The boy’s expression eases, less on guard.
    “You can’t speak? Okay, maybe this, then.” He pulls a flat-screened device from his pocket—it looks like one of our com-tablets, but different—taps a few commands
on its surface, and sets it on the ground between us.
    An image of light floats in midair. It’s a grid, five-by-ten, filled with symbols I’ve never seen before. Not like icons. They’re something else.
    They still have written language here. We phased it out centuries ago. Only certain archivists on Tarix know how to decipher it anymore. I certainly don’t.
    Kalkig makes a noise that sounds like gargling his own teeth but might be laughter. “Not just a Pointed heathen, but uneducated, too.”
    I don’t know what a “heathen” is, and I might be the least intelligent person in Jantzen family history, but I take exception to being called uneducated by an overgrown
lion-monkey. We don’t
need
those symbols of theirs in the Points. Enough strength has returned that I can sit up, but before I can go at Kalkig, Tiav puts a hand on my shoulder.
    He does it so casually, reaffirming he has no idea who I am. The shock of it holds me in place.
    “Kal, if you’re not going to help, go back to the streamer. Let’s try something else.” He taps at the device again, and the hovering image changes. It’s the Seven
Points’ icon, but not quite. The web is more intricate, almost like lace, and a star is in the place of the fire at the top. “Which one is your home?”
    I point to the circle just right of the bottom.
    “Sampati? That’s a start. Until I can teach you enough writing to tell me your name, I’ll call you Sam, all right?”
    There are worse things to be called, so I nod. Then I point to the icon again, gesture to everything surrounding us, and raise my eyebrows.
    “Where is this? You’re on Ferinne. Right here.” He points to the star at the top of the icon.
    Ferri. The “Eighth Point” that isn’t a Point. Or isn’t supposed to be. That’s supposed to be death. Going through the portal
felt
enough like dying, and
maybe Kalkig is one of the demon servants of the Wraith.
    The Wraith that