Many Roads Home Read Online Free

wishing that Mathias had told him about the manumission when he’d signed the papers. Given him a chance to grow used to the idea while Mathias was still there to help.
    Paole drove the cart to the edge of the town, near the cemetery and shrine. The priest there climbed up on the cart and murmured pious words over Mathias’s body, smeared oil and ash over his forehead, and accepted a coin from Paole to pray for his spirit. “And for you, my son? A blessing as you start your new life?” he asked after Paole helped him step down.
    Paole didn’t believe in the Karvin gods—or any god—but this priest offered kindness, and Paole knew well enough how little there was in the world. So he knelt, accepted the blessing and suffered the painting of a holy symbol on his brow.
    “Fortune smile on you.” The priest bowed, leaving Paole with the body of his dead master.
    Paole wiped the oily mess off his face and climbed into the driving seat of the cart. He didn’t believe in fortune either.
    Mathias had given him everything he could to make a life on his own—a house, the drug stores, the wagon, the training. A tidy sum of gold too, more money than Paole had ever seen in his life. But he couldn’t give Paole the respect of strangers. That, he’d have to earn for himself.

Chapter Three
     
    Yveni, fortunately, wasn’t prone to seasickness, and neither was Gerd, but the first few days on board were accompanied by the sounds of vomiting, and the smell of illness tainted the clean salt air. Yveni spent as much time on deck as he could, away from the puking passengers. He enjoyed it up there, never having seen the sea before. If he hadn’t been a vicont or—the gods forbid—couldn’t return to Sardelsa, he could imagine working on one of these great ships. He was strong enough. Being a sailor wouldn’t be so bad.
    He found it much less dull than the hostel. Here he could talk relatively freely to Gerd, and though the man’s tales made his hair stand on end sometimes, they always entertained.
    “Aren’t you worried that when I become duc, I might have you arrested?” he asked one night after Gerd related a particularly daring scheme which involved escaping the duchy under the noses of the ducal soldiers.
    “No. Gil wouldn’t trust you if you were that kind of person.”
    Probably true. He couldn’t do that to Gil, if nothing else.
    The belt, it turned out, was waterproof, and though apparently much the same as what Yveni already wore, this had secret linings where money and papers could be hidden safely. The silver and moonstone pendant Gil had given Yveni to prove his identity to Gil’s cousins and the letter of introduction were stowed, along with enough coin to help Yveni should he lose all his other possessions.
    “Wear it to bed, and sleep in your clothes,” Gerd told him that first night. “And leave your pack behind, it’ll drag you down. The ship runs a battery—that’s what their windmill is for—and if there’s trouble at night, you’ll see small lights guiding your way out. Now you need this too.” From his pack, he produced a small metal whistle on a chain, which he put around Yveni’s neck. “If you end up in the water, blow this until you’ve no breath left at all. It’s the only way you’ll be found in the dark.”
    “I wish you’d stop talking about all this.”
    “Better now than trying to shout it to you in a sinking ship, my lad.”
    “Been shipwrecked before?”
    “Four times. I figure the water spirits don’t want me, but you’d make a tasty morsel.”
    Yveni wrinkled his nose in disgust and Gerd had laughed. But it was far from funny, and Yveni had some nasty nightmares those first few nights, for which he glared at Gerd in the morning.
    Many of the sailors were Uemirien, and when they found Yveni spoke their tongue, were glad to chat as they worked. It gave Yveni a chance to polish his accent and learn more about his new home. He still worried that Gil’s cousins would