Indomitus Oriens (The Fovean Chronicles) Read Online Free

have gone for the hottie, and he wouldn’t have had to fetch her cigarettes to get her. Back in his twenties, it had been a brave new world and he had been on top of it.
                  He checked his watch. Ten minutes left. He took another pull.
                  “Been here long?” she asked him.
                  That surprised him. Normally a girl like this would get what she wanted and go somewhere else
                  “A year,” he said. “Been in sales more than twenty, though.”
                  “Wow,” she said. “That’s a really long time. Did they do telemarketing back then?”
                  Oh, man ! “Yes, but I sold switches.”
                  “Like, light switches?”
                  Another drag. “Phone switches. Calls coming in and out.”
                  That had been so sweet for so long. Every big company had to have them. They were all unique, making it easy to say, “Mine handles more trunks and more lines,” and get a giant commission.
                  Years and years of sales and specialization, knowing his product, knowing his clients, and then the damn phone companies had surprised the world with the exact same features at a fraction of the price. Switches all became computerized and the industry had left him behind.
                  He had paid to put his kids through college, but they were done with college now and had their own lives with their own kids, in other parts of the country. He had been divorced for a decade and never bought a house, because he didn’t want to have to cut his own lawn.
                  She nodded. He had almost forgotten her standing there. “Don’t they have that here?” she asked.
                  “Not the same,” he said. “They’re computers now. Totally different sales.”
                  “So why not sell those?”
                  Another drag. She took one, too. “Totally different,” he repeated. “I don’t know anything about computers.”
                  She nodded, then giggled. “Me, neither,” she said. “You do okay here?”
                  “It pays my bills. Can’t beat the hours.”
                  “Yeah,” she agreed, and took a drag. “One of my girls works here and got me in. She got a hundred bucks for signing me up.”
                  “Had a payment to make?” he asked.
                  She nodded. “Car needs work.”
                  “Hate that,” he said. “Been taking a bike here lately. Trying to drop weight.”
                  She giggled again. He wished she would get to whatever she wanted, because he had a hard time not looking down her blouse.
                  “I’m Melissa,” she said, and stuck out her hand. “Pleased ta meetcha.”
                  “Bill,” he said. “Bill Howard.”
                  Her hand felt soft as silk. He held it maybe a second too long, but he couldn’t help himself. She managed to stroke his thumb as she pulled her hand away.
                  “So, what do you do for fun, Bill?”
    * * *
                  The song had come to Glynn in a dream six months before and burned itself into her memory. It had taken every fiber of her concentration and training not to burst out with it, every moment of the day, since then.
    Had she been a normal Uman-Chi, if there were such a thing, she would have been unable, however Glynn had received Caster training from Chaheff Tamulin. Through her mind’s focus and discipline she could command the control necessary to suppress the imperative, to hold back the tide, the power. With Chaheff to guide her, she had come before the King that first morning and begged to sing