Servant of a Dark God - By John Brown Page 0,118

once told Ke how to look at a beautiful woman and still keep your wits straight. “Look her right between the eyes.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Ke had said. “I’ll be staring at her cross-eyed. That’s sure to impress her.”

“No, you won’t,” said Da. “Look at me. You can’t tell I’m looking at your nose, can you?”

“Cross-eyed,” said Ke.

“I am not.”

“Are.”

“Am not.”

They had argued until Da finally chased Ke out into the pasture.

“Atra,” Talen said.

She stopped and glanced back at him.

Nothing bespoke confidence more than the eyes. Talen wasn’t going to appear to be the shy little boy Nettle talked about, so Talen looked her right in the eye.

He promptly forgot what he was going to say. All that came into his mind was Nettle’s line about breeding. The silence stretched on a bit too long.

“The sun burns brightly,” he finally said. “And so does your face.”

He had known it was stupid before he’d said it, but couldn’t help himself.

She looked at him quizzically, then came that sad smile again.

“Yes, very hot,” Talen said.

Nettle laughed then tried to cover it with a cough.

“You two dare to travel alone?” she asked.

“Yes,” Talen said. “Actually, my Da was summoned to the Council. We’re on our way back.”

Now was when he could use one of River’s helpful questions.

“We heard about the creature coming for that woman,” said Atra. “To think she’s loose again. My da hopes the Skir Master mounts a hunt the likes of which has never been seen. When he does, Da will volunteer to fetch the crows that will pick her head to a nub.”

“Oh?” said Talen.

“Yes, he’s been quite affected by this whole thing. You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?”

He could feel that something had shifted between them. When he’d last seen her, it seemed the stars and moon and torchlight had danced in her eyes and smile. All that was gone.

He thought about the two hatchlings.

“What do I know?” he said. “Nothing. Except that this woman should be brought to justice. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

Atra began to talk. He hoped she was an irrigation ditch because that’s the only topic he could remember to bring up and because he hoped that her talking would simply fix whatever had happened between them.

Atra went on to repeat many of the same rumors Talen had heard today. He nodded and added a comment here or there, but mostly he just let her talk.

She was definitely an irrigation ditch.

Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe “tell me” was one of those helpful questions. Thank the Creators he’d stumbled on it.

As she talked Talen looked at her eyes. He concentrated on them. He noticed that they were not all of one color. There was a darker ring of brown inside a lighter one. Talen wondered if that’s what perhaps made them so beautiful. But he decided against it. It was more their size and the loveliness of her brow.

Then Talen realized she had just said something and he had no idea what it was.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I fear the new baker puts more than flour and honey in his cookies. What did you say?” Da was right. She’d gone from Sleth to something else and he’d missed the whole journey looking into her eyes.

She shook her head. “I said that it seems Koramites are out of favor.”

“Well, not all Koramites I hope.”

Her mouth was drawn in a line of disappointment. Had she just told him he was unwelcome? His heart began to sink.

“You can’t judge a whole people by the actions of a few.”

“No,” she said. “But some people do.”

Then she changed the subject. “Would you like to see my new saddle?”

“I’ll gladly view anything you want to show me.”

She looked at him oddly.

“Anything having to do with saddles,” he said.

The humor he knew her for flashed across her face, but then faded. He needed another helpful question. He couldn’t quite believe, didn’t want to believe she’d said what she had about Koramites. Maybe she wouldn’t lump him in that group because he was going to be part of the Shoka.

“Tell me about your saddle.”

Atra turned to Nettle. “Does the loafing captain want to see a saddle?”

“Naw,” he said. “One saddle is pretty much like the other.”

He gave Talen a look then. Nettle was trying to buoy him up and tell him that he should take his fish elsewhere.

“Suit yourself.” She turned to Talen. “This way,” she said and led him to the back of the stable. It wasn’t proper for a boy

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