Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,40
one spoke. Elyea stood at Khirro’s side, her hand resting on his shoulder making him feel both comforted and uncomfortable at the same time. He fidgeted beneath her touch. It seemed natural for her to lay her hand upon a man, but it was anything but to him. Athryn clapped his hands sharply, startling Khirro from Maes' scars and Elyea’s touch. A man appeared from behind a tapestry that Khirro wouldn’t have guessed hid a doorway.
“Prepare horses for everyone,” Athryn said to the juggler when he entered the room, his long dark hair loose about his shoulders. “And food. We leave within the hour.”
The illusionist’s words didn’t surprise Khirro. The thought of Athryn joining them caused peace in him instead of the trepidation he felt at revealing their intent to Elyea, though he didn’t know why. Safety in numbers, perhaps. Or maybe because of the illusionist’s connection to the Shaman. No matter the reason, Ghaul didn’t share his ease.
“We appreciate the use of your horses,” Ghaul said, the forced restraint in his voice too obvious to fool anyone. “But our party has already swollen to one more than it should be. We have no room for a performer of parlor tricks.”
“I am no mere illusionist, and you will be joined by two of us. I go nowhere without Maes.” The little man halted scribbling and looked up.
The muscles in Ghaul’s jaw knotted, his fingers curled into fists. “You don’t even know where we go, prestidigitator.”
“Lakesh. You seek Darestat to raise the king and deliver Erechania.”
Ghaul glanced at Elyea, eyes smoldering. Her gaze held steady, neither confirming nor denying his thought.
“She did not tell me, nor did Khirro.”
“Cease your trickery and lies, illusionist. We have no need of your company, or that of a clumsy midget.”
The warrior’s words finally affected Athryn and he threw back his cape, exposing the sword hidden beneath. Ghaul’s hand went to his weapon and he freed an inch of steel from the scabbard. The air in the room suddenly grew heavier and Khirro worried he might lose touch again.
“Wait,” Elyea said. “There’s no reason for this.”
“Sit down, harlot,” Ghaul growled.
“Enough, Ghaul,” Khirro said taking offense at his words even if Elyea didn’t. He leaned forward on the couch. “This journey is mine, and I say they can join us.”
The warrior’s eyes flickered from Athryn to Khirro and back. “It may be your journey, but it is my life. And look at you: you’re not well.”
“I’m fine. My strength has returned.”
“But what of him?” Ghaul gestured toward Athryn with his free hand. “Do you expect me to trust a man who doesn’t reveal his face in the privacy of his own residence?”
Khirro pushed himself up on shaky legs, looked at Ghaul and Athryn, then Elyea and Maes, hoping someone would do or say something because he didn’t know what to do next. Athryn must have seen the desperation in his eyes.
He raised his hand, gripped the white cloth mask and pulled it slowly from his face with a performer’s dramatic flair. Elyea sucked in a surprised breath; Ghaul’s stern look softened; Khirro felt a sinking at the pit of his stomach. Only Maes didn’t react as Athryn revealed that he didn’t wear the mask to disguise his identity but to hide the pink scar covering most of his features. The flesh around his left eye was all that remained untouched, the single eyebrow the only hair on his face, as the smooth, shiny skin stopped short of the blond hair he wore in a ponytail as he had the day before.
Athryn said nothing as they stared. His piercing blue eyes glowed, gauging their reactions. Khirro felt he should say something, but nothing came to mind. Elyea finally broke the tense silence.
“How did this happen?”
“Dragonfire.”
Khirro saw Ghaul’s expression shift again, this time to disbelief. “Dragonfire? If you speak the truth, prove it.”
The illusionist said nothing as Khirro looked questioningly at Ghaul. The warrior folded his arms across his chest.
“A man who survives the touch of dragonfire retains a portion of the dragon’s magic. If Athryn speaks the truth, he should be able to show us more than hiding coins on the back of his hand or making a woman disappear through a trap door.”
“I didn’t—” Elyea protested, but Athryn held up his hand to stop her.
“Let him show us,” Khirro said, curiosity making him forget his bout of vertigo.
Athryn nodded. From the corner of his eye, Khirro saw Maes lay his quill and bark aside. The illusionist closed