Read Online The Land's Whisper by Monica Lee Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B

bellies began
to churn in emptiness. Even Brenol grew quiet and troubled. The
path hooked sideways and dove its way steeply downhill in a grassy
descent. It seemed unusual for a well-tended path to dive at such
an incline, but as it appeared to be the only option, they
continued on without remark.
    The two attempted a handful of other
methods, but since their bare feet lacked traction, they eventually
succumbed to scooting down slowly on their backsides with palms out
to brace. Once the slope evened, they lifted their sore rears and
continued on. They came upon several new footpaths branching away.
After a short deliberation, they agreed to continue in the
direction they believed—from the sun’s course—to be west.
    They had not gone five minutes on the new
path before they heard voices. Every muscle in Darse tightened. He
clamped onto Brenol’s arm and pulled him to the road’s side behind
a clump of bushes. “Bren, quiet. ”
    A party of four men ambled around the bend.
They were stocky but not overweight, muscular and bronzed, and each
could not have reached the height of half a man. Their voices
boomed in the previous still, and they strode with steps
surprisingly fleet for their small frames. One was clearly younger
than the rest of the party—face as smooth as a baby’s belly—while
the other three sported smartly trimmed beards dappled in the gray
of many orbits. Each hefted a wooden bucket brimming with blossoms
over one shoulder, while the opposite was laden with a cloth sack.
Each also bore a musical instrument, either in hand or strapped
upon back.
    Darse exhaled in surprise, quietly peering
between bushes. Brenol, though, straightened in his awe, leaving
behind all chance of concealment. Darse cursed softly as the men’s
eyes jumped up to the open-mouthed youth. He then emerged and
firmly grasped the boy’s shoulder.
    The men’s gazes carried a peculiar
expression as they surveyed the two, but they finally rested their
vision squarely upon Brenol.
    They see something there, Darse
realized. Like I am barely here, beside him. The thought
knotted his insides. What does this place want with him? Why
him?
    Brenol clambered forward—with Darse in
pursuit—and asked softly, with childlike curiosity, “What are you?” He held his hands behind him, for the compulsion
to poke the men itched in his fingers.
    The men jutted their chins out in
indignation. The darkest of the group, tanned a swarthy copper,
arched his head to the side and eyed the two strangers.
    “Foreigners, eh?” He did not pause long
enough for a reply. “Lugazzi babes not taught anything.” He gave
Darse a sideways glance, but just as quickly spread his face into
an easy expression. “Ah, but where are my manners? My name
is Rook.” He bent his sunned head in greeting. “And here are Spence
and Murphy. Colvin right there is the baby.” Spence and Murphy
bowed their heads, and Colvin nodded casually.
    “We,” continued Rook, “are visnati .
Of the terrisdan Garnoble. Fullness and joy.”
    “Fullness and joy,” the other visnati
intoned.
    “I am Darse, this is Bren,” said Darse. His
voice was strained despite their apparent geniality.
    Murphy asked, “Where are you going? What
terrisdan do you belong to? Or are you of the
lugazzi ? ” He was about a hand span taller than the others
and wore black suspenders atop blue trousers and thin, round
glasses upon a hook nose. His eyes glinted in amusement but carried
a sharpness that Darse perceived warily.
    Darse replied reluctantly, “We have no idea
where we are going.”
    Rook’s amber eyes narrowed, but his tone
remained courteous. “That’s fine. Your business, you know. Please
speak if there is anything we can assist you with.” He bowed to
them respectfully and gestured to his companions that they should
continue on their journey.
    “Wait!” yelped Brenol. “Wait. We really
don’t know. Please. Do you have food?”
    Rook gave a large, toothy grin. Without a
word,