Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

daughter or another old associate may cover readmission.”
    Nahel pointed at him. “I meant you —the one I’m here to guard. Without me, you wouldn’t make it past lunch.”
    “Of course. But tell me, Nahel. Doesn’t it bother you owing fealty to a—”
    “Do you want me to tell you what's going on, or not?” the malakh interrupted.
    “Certainly. Say on.”
    “I’ve been poking around, even though you said, ‘The worst this flyspeck has to offer is late turndown service.’ I’m not so sure about this place. It’s quiet—like the buildings, the streets, and even the land are asleep.”
    “Not that there’s much else to do here,” Damus said.
    Nahel’s eyes moved from side to side as if the sunlit room held hidden foes. “I smelled something wrong when we got here. It’s like the air’s heavy; weighing everything down.”
    “Nahel, do me the favor of climbing down from that lofty abstraction.”
    “Sorry. It’s just that whatever’s sleeping might wake up, and we shouldn’t be here when it does.”
    “‘We should leave Medvia’ is a tautology,” Damus quipped. “Sadly, it’s one we can’t act on, absent willing guides.”
    The twin sheaths of Nahel’s blessed short swords slapped against his thighs as he approached the east window. His furry hands gripped the sill. “I was just talking to some of the Shrine Guard. They said there’s Nesshin in town.”
    Damus sprang into motion, snatching up his possessions from the chair. “The Nesshin? That’s the best news you could’ve brought. If I can arrange passage with the tribe, we’ll be on our way first thing tomorrow!”
    Damus had nearly finished buttoning his brocaded silk shirt when Nahel chimed in again. “The guards didn’t say it was a whole tribe ; or even a clan. ‘A stranger wandered in from the desert—one of those Nesshin,’ was what they said.”
    Damus’ brow furrowed as he thought. A moment later, his eyes shot open and focused tightly on his escort. “All may not be lost.”
    “Don’t get carried away,” said Nahel. “He might be on his own.”
    “The fact to keep in mind about nomads is that they’re, well, nomadic . A close-knit family structure is vital to desert-dwelling peoples. Therefore where you find one nomad you’ll invariably find others! Let’s greet this newcomer. We’ll at least get our foot in the tribe’s door.”
    “You’ll get your foot in something ,” grumbled Nahel.

    Two sets of strong, mail-clad shoulders supported Xander’s arms. Though exhaustion pushed him to the edge of unconsciousness, he could tell where he was by the blessed moisture in the air. The Shrine of Water, God’s Blessing stood alone upon the shore of a lake. Fed by a sacred spring, the Water was the saving grace that staved off the desert and made Medvia prosper.
    Relief and puzzlement contended in Xander’s mind. Shouldn’t he still be days from town? Perhaps he was dreaming. But if he had reached Medvia, so had the caravan—including his father.
    A pair of shrine guards carried Xander through sun-drenched streets toward the two floor step pyramid. The green and blue waves painted on the temple’s façade, and the gentle lapping of real waves nearby, lulled Xander’s fevered mind to sleep.
    Xander awoke on a canvas cot in a small room that smelled of ointments. His muscles throbbed dully. Two priests clad in white, blue-striped robes sat across the dim chamber watching him. They gave him clean-tasting water, told to him drink it slowly, and admonished him to remain in bed for the rest of the afternoon. Then they left to attend their sacred office.
    When the cup sat empty by his bed and the heat haze had lifted from his mind, Xander thought about the strange images pressed into his memory. The humming radiance haunted by strange shapes, his wild flight from a pack of unnatural beasts; the stranger who wielded the setting sun.
    Releasing a long sigh, Xander tilted his head back and ran a hand over the