Read Online The Way of the Black Beast by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online

don't really want me. Trust me. I know only one thing, one person who might know where they are. That's it. That's all I know. Hardly worth all this effort."
    "If it's so meaningless, then give me the name."
    Fawbry's face contorted as he strained for an escape. He looked from one side to the other. No answer appeared. His wild hair made him look cornered, and for a moment, Malja thought he might strike out like one of his oxters.
    But he brightened a fraction. Then a bit more. An idea had formed. "Fine, fine. You want me to talk? Take me to Barris Mont. He can keep me safe. You get me to him, and I'll tell you the name."
    "Thought I wasn't safe."
    "I'm not stupid," Fawbry shouted. "You're better than nothing. And I'm marked now. Right? So, you take me to Barris, okay? That's the deal."
    Malja nodded. "So where is this guy?"
    "He's not a guy. He's a ... well, he owes me. He lives near Lyngrovet. At Dead Lake."
    Wonderful.

Chapter 6
     
    The rich campfire aroma did little to soothe Malja. Though Tommy and Fawbry had been snoring loudly since sundown, Malja couldn't quiet her tired head long enough to fall asleep. They had been riding west for several days, but not making good time. The horses needed extra rest. They had been pushed hard, and the Postkryssta coolness had given way to a surprising, late blast of heat. Malja figured it would be better to go slowly, if it meant still having the horses in the long run. Besides, if she rode the horses into the grave, Tommy would be even angrier with her. For a boy who didn't talk, he had become even quieter since their fight.
    She stood, stepped to the side, and faced away from the fire before stretching her sore body. She didn't think about the motions, designed to keep her night vision clear and her awareness toward possible danger, she just moved. Her popping joints blended with the snapping fire. Stifling a yawn, she walked to a wide stream nearby. The conjured assault suit she wore never needed cleaning, but she did. She removed her clothes and stepped into the cold water. Her over-heated body relished the sensation, and she carefully undid the braids in her long hair, letting the water seep in all the way to her scalp. If only everything in knots could be undone so easily.
    As she washed off dirt and sweat, her hands felt the ridges and valleys of her numerous scars. They're my tattoos. Except these didn't turn a person into an object of power. These didn't drive a person mad. It was so unfair — an innocent boy like Tommy doomed for nothing. Nobody asked him if he wanted to be a magician. He had no choice.
    Nobody gave me a choice either.
    Gregor had tried to build a normal life for her. He had given her dolls and dresses. Took her flower-picking. Built her a dollhouse, even. But the magicians had done their damage. She ignored the dollhouse and played with the kitchen knives. She dirtied the dresses with mud and blood. She sliced through hordes of pansies and violets. When those bastards are dead, she thought, then I'll have a choice. And Tommy will, too.
    She remembered reaching out to Tommy's cowering form, offering to rescue him — No, I can't allow myself to rewrite the past. The night she found him should remain a night she paid honor.
    Bending backward so her head cooled in the water but her ears stayed just above and always aware, Malja opened the gates on this one particular memory. Not to pay any honor, she decided, but simply to be honest with herself.
    She remembered waking to urgent banging on the cabin door. She remembered the churning sea rolling her stomach like a thoughtless mother rocking her baby too hard. She remembered the young crewman standing in the corridor.
    He wore blue, threadbare trousers, a filthy, torn shirt, and a round, white cap — what passed for a uniform on a thief's ship. He took her to see Captain Wuchev, and when they stepped into the narrow corridor, she saw blood decorated the metallic walls in long slashes. Through one cabin door,